A couple of years ago I entered (and won) a short story competition in the States. I can now reproduce the entry, below. It's a bit longer than my usual blogs, but I hope you find time to read it and that it blesses you.
I remember the Indian stamps.
Uncle Ben had been writing to me for two or three years from
his mission station in south India. My parents didn't have a Christian faith
and were concerned that as an impressionable eight-year-old, I would read his
letters and become ‘religious.’ There was no chance of that. To this day, I
only remember the stamps.
But one thing I do know, Uncle Ben was praying for me. And
God answers prayer.
On a field outside St Davids in Wales, a fifteen-year-old
boy heard the gospel. It made sense. It wasn't the most emotional of responses,
but that young man decided to pray. And it changed his life.
That was over fifty years ago. Many prayers have been
answered since. I have a wife and a grown-up family, and every one of them
acknowledges Jesus as Lord.
I have my own answered prayer stories, piled up over the
years. In my Bible, I keep an email. It's from a consultant I was working with
in the early 2000s. She suggested I meet her in New York to discuss some
financial issues relating to the company I was working for.
‘Why don't we meet up for breakfast? There's a restaurant at
the top of the two towers.’
The meeting was due to take place on Tuesday morning, September
11th, 2001. There were some other things to sort out, so we postpone
the meeting. And I'm here to tell the tale. And here to say that God knows our
every step.
Why me? Why was I protected that day when others were not? On
that day when the two towers fell? Only God knows the answer to that. But one
thing I do know, God answers prayer.
Over the years, I've told that story. I've waived that piece
of paper with the printed email. I've preached words of faith and declared
God's blessing and protection. I've worked with an evangelistic organisation
and have had the privilege of seeing thousands stepping over into God's Kingdom.
God planted India in my heart. I heard him call me to that
nation, the only time I ever heard an audible word from God. My wife is from
India. For a while, I thought that must be the answer - I didn't have to go to
India, India had come to me! But I did go. We went together. For over twenty-five
years we have had the privilege of serving the churches in India.
As it all started with a prayer.
One day, I'll get to meet Uncle Ben. I have no recollection
of him, although my parents assured me that I did see him when I was small. He
was so faithful in writing those letters and praying for me.
Did Uncle Ben have an inkling that God's hand was on my
life? Did he know I would find life? Did he know God would call me to India? Was
that the reason for his faithfulness in writing? Was that the reason he prayed
for me? I had other relatives, other cousins. Maybe he wrote to them too. But
one thing I am sure of, a man I don't remember meeting, living on a different
continent, prayed a prayer.
God answered Uncle Ben. I am here as a result of his prayers
for me. Thousands today have a living relationship with Jesus Christ as a
result of his prayers for me and my response.
By my maths, those letters were sent to me nearly sixty
years ago.
I only remember the stamps. But I am so, so grateful for the
prayers.
