A Beautiful Story of Faith in God for Answered Prayer

This is a story that was passed on to me. It was written several years ago, 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 with treacherous 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.

‘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 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 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)

Corrie ten Boom wrote of a remarkable experience at the terrible Nazi Ravensbruck prison camp; “Together we entered the terrifying building. At a table were women who took away all our possessions. Everyone had to undress completely and then go to a room where her hair was checked.

 I asked a woman who was busy checking the possessions of the new arrivals if I might use the toilet. She pointed to a door and I discovered that the convenience was nothing more than a hole in the shower room floor. Betsie stayed close beside me all the time. Suddenly I had an inspiration, “Quick, take off your woolen underwear,” I whispered to her. I rolled it up with mine and laid the bundle in a corner with my little Bible. The spot was alive with cockroaches, but I didn’t worry about that. I felt wonderfully relieved and happy. “The Lord is busy answering our prayers, Betsie,” I whispered, “We shall not have to make the sacrifice of all our clothes.”

 We hurried back to the row of women waiting to be undressed. A little later, after we had had our showers and put on our shirts and shabby dresses, I hid the roll of underwear and my Bible under my dress. It did bulge out obviously through my dress; but I prayed, “Lord, cause now Thine angels to surround me; and let them not transparent today, for the guards must not see me.” I felt perfectly at ease. Calmly I passed the guards. Everyone was checked, from the front, the sides, the back. Not a bulge escaped the eyes of the guard. The woman just in front of me had hidden a woolen vest under her dress; it was taken from her. They let me pass, for they did not see me. Betsie, right behind me, was searched.

  But outside awaited another danger. On each side of the door were women who looked everyone over for a second time. They felt over the body of each one who passed. I knew they would not see me, for the angels were surrounding me. I was not even surprised when they passed me by; but within me rose the jubilant cry, “O Lord, if Thou dost so answer prayer, I can face even Ravensbruck unafraid.”

I was finishing off the peak inside of a log home I was building. I was working alone installing tongue and groove knotty pine on the cathedral ceiling. The ceiling was all done except the very peak. To reach the peak I had erected three sets of scaffolding, each set being five feet high for a total of fifteen feet. On top of the scaffolding I placed two 2×10 planks and on these I set a step ladder. Not the safest way to do things, but I wasn’t concerned about it at the time. Looking back it was rather foolish.

As I installed the ceiling I would climb up the ladder and measure, and then come down, cut a piece of lumber and then climb back up the ladder and nail it in place. Then I would measure for the next piece and do it all over again.

I had worked my way about a third of the way across  when I go this funny feeling. I looked down and to my horror one of the 2×10’s had slid off the scaffolding. The plank was just touching one side of the round bar it was setting on. With all the moving I was doing on the ladder as I was working, it was not possible that the plank could set like that. If it had slipped off, I would have went flying head first 20+ feet to the floor. To make matters worse I would have hit a cross tie log on the way down.

Very carefully I climbed down the ladder and worked my way around the scaffolding to the plank. Slowly I went to take a hold of the plank. As soon as my hand passed under the plank it dropped into my hand. It hadn’t fell when I was on the ladder moving around or while I was climbing around the scaffolding, but it fell the instant my hand went under it. I did not touch or bump the plank. My hand was three or four inches below it when it suddenly dropped. I know there was an angel holding up that plank until my hand passed under it. In fact, I spoke at the time: “I know that there is an angel here and I thank you and I thank God that sent you”. I’m sure I could feel the presence of God or his angel, although it could have been the emotion at the time.

A pastor friend of ours, teenage son Tim, was in a very bad automobile accident. He was in a coma and not expected to live. The doctors said if he did live he would have severe brain damage. But God in His wonderful mercy healed him completely and today he is a pastor himself.

Tim was however in the hospital for quite some time. His parents spent every minute that was possible with him at the hospital. Eventually the day came when Tim was able to leave the hospital. But before he left he wanted to say goodbye to Mr. Smith.

“Who is Mr. Smith” his parents asked?

Tim replied, “he is an old man that always came and set with me when nobody else was there”

They asked at the nurses station about Mr. Smith. You probably already guessed, there was no Mr. Smith that worked or volunteered at the hospital. Just another example of one of God’s ministering spirits in the form of an old man.

John Paton, an early missionary to the New Hebrides Islands tells a story when angels took on the form of humans to protect him and his wife. One night natives surrounded their mission intent on killing them. Rev. Paton and his wife prayed throughout the night that God would protect them. When morning came the natives were gone.

  A year later the tribal chief was converted to Christ. Rev Paton asked the chief what kept him and his men from burning down the mission and killing them that night . The chief told him that the mission was surrounded with large men in shining clothes with swords in their hands. After hearing that, Rev. Paton realized that God had sent his angels to protect them.

from: “Things You Probably Didn’t Learn in Church.”