One of the great story lines that runs through the Bible is the grace of God. Even in the OT which we don’t associate with grace as much as we do in the NT, there is amble evidence of the grace of God. It is in the book of Genesis that we read, but Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord (Genesis 6:8). And the thread of grace continues throughout the Old Covenant and into the New. Today we are recipients of God’s grace, often in ways that we may never know. But we are also recipients of God’s grace in many ways that are evident day after day in our lives.
I want to share a true story with you to illustrate the grace and mercy of our God. It was written by a missionary doctor who works in Zaire. I hope that it not only touches your heart but that it also increases your faith. Here is his story – it’s long but worth reading.
One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; in spite of all our efforts, she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We knew we would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator . . . or even electricity to run an incubator.
Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly and fraught with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot-water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. “It is our last hot water bottle!” she exclaimed.
As the Western saying goes, “ It is no good crying over spilled milk,” so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.
“All right,” I said, “put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm.”
The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot-water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.
During the prayer time, one 10-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. “Please, God,” she prayed, “send us a water bottle. It’ll be no good tomorrow God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon.”
While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of a corollary, “And while you are at it, would you please send a dolly for the little girl so she’ll know you really love her?”
As often with children’s prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, “Amen”?
I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything. The Bible says so. But there are limits, aren’t there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, even if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!
Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses’ training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the veranda, was a large 22-pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some 30 or 40 pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas – that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the . . . could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out – yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle!
I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, “If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!”
Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed doll. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted. Looking up at me, she asked, “Can I go over with you and give this doll to that little girl, so she’ll know that Jesus really loves her?”
That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. It had been packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God’s prompting to send a hot-water bottle to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child – five months before – answering the believing prayer of a 10-year-old to bring it “that afternoon.” (From The Message)
God does hear and answer prayer – sometimes even before we ask. And He often does more than we ask (Ephesians 3:20). That’s grace.
Stay in the Word