Before they call, I will answer

Isaiah 65:24
I will answer them before they even call to me. While they are still talking about their needs, I will go ahead and answer their prayers!

This is a story written by a doctor who worked in Africa .

One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do, she died, leaving us with a tiny, premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive; as we had no incubator (we had no electricity to
run an incubator).

We also had no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly withtreacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such
babies and the cotton wool that 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). 'And it is our last hot water bottle!' she exclaimed. As in the West, 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, and that 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 prayer time, one ten -year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. 'Please, God' she prayed, 'Send us a hot water bottle today 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, 'And while You are about 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, 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 verandah 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 thirty or forty 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 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 dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted!

Looking up at me, she asked, 'Can I go over with you and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?' 'Of course,' I replied!

That parcel had been on the way for five whole months, packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator.

And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child - five months before, in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it 'that afternoon.'

'Before they call, I will answer.' (Isaiah 65:24)

Thankful for Everything

Three reasons God commanded us to give thanks in all things:

First, giving thanks in all things expresses faith-faith in the God who knows what He's doing; faith in the God who sovereignly rules in all that happens to us. Isn't that what He wants from us?

Second, He knew we wouldn't do it naturally. Giving thanks in all things means I am no longer walking as a mere man, grumbling and griping, but walking as a spiritual man (see 1 Cor. 2:14,15)-a man who sees God at work...even in the grains of sand that tend to fill my shoes.

Isn't that a little bit of what's wrong with twentieth-century Christianity? Don't we divorce God from the details of daily experience? Don't we ultimately dislike those things that we can't seem to control? Let's be honest, we'd rather gripe, complain and be miserable about circumstances than give thanks.

Finally, God wants to teach us how to deal with the irritating grains of sand so we can get on with climbing the mountains He has for us. All we see are the pebbles, and we think if we could just remove all those pebbles then we could get on with real life. But the pebbles are the real life that God brings us day by day. He wants to use those irritants to instruct us and to see us mature in Christ.

*Extracted from "Moments Together for Couples", a Crosswalk Devotional

Not Ashamed

I received an email with these instructions:

"If you believe that God is alive and well, send this to at least ten people and the person that sent it to you. This is so true. Sometimes it's the simplest things that God asks us to do that cause us, if we are obedient to what He's asking, to be able to hear His voice more clear than ever. Please listen, and obey ! It will bless you (and the world) - Philippians 4:3.

If you aren't ashamed to do this, please follow the directions. Jesus said, "If you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you before my Father". Not ashamed.... pass this on."

I'm not ashamed but it doesn't mean I have to spam all my friends, especially if this is the 50th time I've received this email. So here's the story:

A young man had been to Wednesday Night Bible Study. The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord's voice. The young man couldn't help but wonder, 'Does God still speak to people?'

After service, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways.

It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, 'God...If you still speak t o people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey.'

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, 'God is that you?' He didn't get a reply and started on toward home.

But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk.

The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli. 'Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.' It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.

As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, 'Turn Down that street.'

This is crazy he thought, and drove on past the intersection.

Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street.

At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.

Half jokingly, he said out loud, 'Okay, God, I will.'

He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi- commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.

Again, he sensed something, 'Go and give t he milk to the people in the house across the street.' The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat.

'Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.' Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.

Finally, he opened the door, 'Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to b e obedient. I guess that will count for some thing, but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here.'

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, 'Who is it? What do you want?' Then the door opened before the young man could get away.

The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. 'What is it?' The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, 'Here, I brought this to you.' The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway.

Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.

The man began speaking and half crying, 'We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk.'

His wife in the kitchen yelled out, 'I ask him to send an Angel with some. Are you an Angel?'

The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face.

He knew God still answers prayers.

I know it too.

Why I Converted

I'm not a computer geek, and I don't usually talk about operating systems and hardware. I am not exactly into the Mac vs PC debate either. I have a PC at work and a Mac at home.

Recently, however, I am compelled to make a list, to answer the question people often ask me : Why Mac?

1. it takes 1 minute or less to switch on my Mac. I rarely have to wait more than that for it to load its stuff. My PC still does its morning lagging exercise and its evening lagging exercise (I had to send a quick email this morning and I did it in 3 minutes total, including having to switch on and switch off my Mac);
2. everyone talks about how cool it is to own a Mac. How the pictures are sharper and sound is better. I can't argue with that;
3. people say Macs are too expensive. But I think it's about whether you are content to drive a Proton or a BMW. I think the people at Mac deserve it because they put so much thought into the making of a Mac and into developing it to be better. And, with that one price, you pay for speed, sleekness, efficiency, technology and practicability. I won't argue with anyone about this, because you have to own one to be convinced;
4. my Mac is mine and looks like mine, and no one who owns another Mac has a similar one. You can tell at once which Mac is yours because Macs are almost fully customizable;
5. I use my Mac for work and play. Contrary to wrong perceptions, there is no issue with compatibility.

In order not to sound like a geek (which I am not), I shall stop.

Note : this writer receives no payment for this post. However if Apple would like to pay her, she will not decline.

.... and yet another one

This Made Me Cry

Swiney Stuff

The month of June was full of surprises. Of course, there was the honeymoon. Suffice to say, it was great, not because of the place (I would have preferred Europe any time) but because it was wonderful travelling with him and being silly together.

I went back to the office on the 24th, and was told at 10am in the morning that I will need to fly to Manila in 2 hours time. For contract negotiations, apparently. For a contract I left alone for one week. Like a chicken losing its head, I rushed home, packed and went to the airport in 1 hour.

It was overwhelming because:

1) I did not know anything about Manila except that it is in the Philippines;
2) I did not have any foreign currency (my mind went - I think it's Pesos... gosh, how much is that in RM?);
3) I hated unplanned packing;
4) I wanted to be home after a week of traveling together;
5) I had no idea how much the contract has progressed in my absense;
6) I was told I am to convince the Iron Lady to accept our terms and conditions and that she may just eat me up.

I didn't have any choice, unfortunately. Except to pray profusely.

Manila is nice, because I don't have anything more to say about it. All I saw were offices and hotels. I went shopping for an hour, but that was it. The Edsa Shangri-la was nice, but I hardly had time to enjoy it.

Anyway, the point is, when I got back, I developed a cough, followed by mild fever a few days after that. Of course, that means I went to the Sungai Buloh Hospital to check it out. I will admit, the hospital looked impressive as we exited the highway. Unfortunately, that's the only good thing I have to say about it.

You would think that since Influenza is the pandemic at the moment, hospitals such as this would have clear signages and special units to direct people who may be having the it or who want to check it out. The only signages we saw were those asking you to wash your hands, wear a mask, telling you what the signs are, and which country is affected. It must have taken us 10 minutes (and I must have asked about 3 people) to find the place where they will check us for Influenza.

When we finally found it, it was a sad area on the tar road in front of the emergency entrance. They slapped a mask on my face and told me to wait. This was 7.15pm.

I must have waited for almost 40 minutes when some guy, fully masked, gloved and covered in plastic came walking out with a pen and pieces of paper. He asked me for some details of my traveling and then, I was to sign that piece of paper. After that, he took my temperature and told me to wait yet again.

Nothing happened for the next one hour or more, until I went up to one of them and asked them what I was waiting for. It was only then that they said to me, to go to the back of the building (some dingy room) where they would swab my throat for a sample. They told me that they would call me with test results in 2 days.

After being swabbed and interviewed, I was asked to wait for medication. I thought this was finally the end (it must have been 9.15pm by then). However, I was wrong.

We couldn't stand the waiting any longer, so at approximately 9.45pm, he went to the counter to threaten to leave if nothing is being done. Miraculously, the precious medication we were waiting for was given to us within 5 minutes. I left the hospital at 9.55pm. I daresay by the time I left, I already felt better and my fever may have decided to healed itself.

The very fact that this has to happen to anyone is in itself appalling. If I did have Influenza, I would have died, if not because the disease, because of the waiting. And, if I did not have Influenza, I may have contracted it after being left in that stupid place for so long. Or, I would have contracted something else from the patients going in and out of the emergency room.

So ask me now, is my country taking measures to curb the pandemic, or at least, trying its best to contain it? I would be too ashamed to answer.

By the way, I never got the call to tell me what the test results were. It has now been more than 7 days. If I had it, I would have passed it on to every single person I've spoken to, laughed with, in the same room with in the last 7 days. Thank God I am blessed with brains to know that since my fever and cough are now gone, I would be negative forInfluenza. I didn't need to wait 3 hours in a hospital for a stupid test (which may not have been done in the first place) to tell me that.