The Week That Changed My Life

Author unknown

Numb with weariness, I sat on the edge of the bed to remove my shoes and socks.

Suddenly I was totally alert. "The money's not there! How can that be? What will I do?"

Here I was in the middle of the Canadian wilderness on a missions trip, reluctantly, I might add, and I had been asked to keep the group's money for the return trip. Now it was gone.

What was I doing here anyway? Why did Angie have to get this "call" to missions? Why couldn't we just continue with the satisfying life we were living for the Lord already?

"Lord, I'm an auto mechanic. What does that have to do with missions? Ever since Angie went to the altar at family camp saying the Holy Spirit was calling her into missions and then sent for a missions application, I've been uncomfortable and dragging my feet. The missions agency said it would be good for me to go on a missions trip. A friend handed me a brochure about this trip, and here I am. We just got here, and already I'm in trouble!"

A long crowded van ride followed by a short plane ride left us sitting on our suitcases by a remote lake. No arrangements had been made to house us. That was the first blow. Several hours later we were taken by pickup to a hotel. The Indians were wanting a church service. A quick meal and a long service left us back at the hotel in the wee hours of the morning. The loss of the money was the second blow!

The minute I started to come awake the next morning, it came back to me, the money's gone. As I prayed, the Lord said to go and pray with the two women who would be upstairs. Quickly dressing, I met a woman from the team on the stairs, I greeted her with, "Why are you up so early?"

"Oh, I just couldn't sleep."

Upstairs another woman was making coffee. I asked, "Why are you up so early?"

"Oh, I just couldn't sleep."

Over coffee, I told them of the lost money and we started praying together. Suddenly one of the women stopped us. "Chris, you need to go to the nearby dirt road. Turn right and go 20 paces and you'll find the money."

Wonderingly, I obeyed. At 19 paces I could see nothing. At 20 paces, there was the plastic bag beside the tall grass at the edge of the road. (At 21 paces, I couldn't see the bag.) How it got there, I'll never know. I travelled that road only by pickup truck. I never walked it. I never took off my shoes or socks. Only God knows, but the one miracle set the stage for me to be open and alert to other miracles that week that showed God's mighty power in ways I'll never forget.

Wednesday, I was still pleading with the Lord "Why am I here? What are You wanting to show me?" I spent the afternoon down by the dock praying for direction. A breeze ruffled my hair as I watched a small missionary float plane do a circling approach for landing. It idled right beside me. Lazily, I wondered who serviced these planes. I thought the Lord said, "You do" -- strange!

A couple of hours later I was still there waiting for an answer. The dock felt hard.

Looking up, I saw the same plane circling. Again, as it landed beside me, the thought came to me, "I wonder who works on these planes?"

"Chris, I want you to."

That was my call , from auto mechanic to airplane mechanic, from a comfortable life at home to a life who knows where. I talked with the pilot about how to get involved.

The Lord had more to show me that week to cement forever in my mind and heart the greatness and power of the God who was calling me to take my family and launch out.

At each of our evening services there were four national women who disrupted the services with their mocking of everything that was said and done. This particular evening was our communion service, which I helped serve, and the mocking continued.

After the communion, the national pastor and I were kneeling at the front, and the Lord said to put my hand on his shoulder and pray for him. What followed has never happened to me before or since, but I began to pray words I didn't know and a man behind me interpreted in English. The whole time the pastor stared at me with intense concentration. The second I finished he grabbed his guitar and called out, "We're not finished. The Lord still wants to work in peoples' lives here."

As soon as he spoke, each of the four ladies rushed to the front weeping. There they gave their lives to the Lord. For a long time they lay on the dirt floor, their tears flowing. When they finally arose, one could see the imprint of their heads where their tears had turned the dirt to mud.

After the service finally finished, the national pastor turned to me. "Chris, you didn't know it but you were speaking my native language. I've been very discouraged and wanting to quit. The words the Lord spoke through you were identical to what He has said to me twice before. You're not to quit the pastorate yet. There are people who still need to know Me."

That week in northern Canada I learned to know God in new ways, and I knew I could totally trust Him. "For this God is our God forever and ever; He will be our Guide even to the end" -- wherever He chooses to send me and my family.

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