I work for the International Missionary Society and have missionaries come through our doors all year round. The stories they tell are simply amazing! So much so, that the story-teller in me just had to pen them down.
As each missionary comes through, I sit him/her down at a table, grab my laptop, notebook (the old-fashioned kind), and pen and listen!
After a few months of this, I now have enough stories to compile into a book.
Here is a little teaser...
You Don't Know My Tomorrow
The small house was abuzz with activity as preparations for the medical missionary conference were made. Tables and chairs were arranged. Pamphlets and magazines were placed on display. Charts and diagrams were hung on the walls. When everything was in readiness, the group of workers prayed for God’s blessing on the event.
On the second day of the seminar, Miguel, his wife, and mother-in-law strode up the front walk towards the house. As they stepped onto the front porch, Miguel, a young Bible worker, suddenly began to feel very strange. Even though the weather was cold, he felt as if his body was on fire. His face flushed red and sweat glistened on his brow. As he continued walking, it became more and more difficult for him to breathe. Clutching his chest, he struggled to inhale. The lack of oxygen made him feel light-headed and the world seemed to spin around him.
Ana, Miguel’s wife, immediately noticed that something was not right. He had been completely normal just a few moments before and now, he looked as if he might collapse at any moment. Grabbing his arm, she said, “Go back to the car and turn on the air conditioner.” Perhaps if he could cool down a little he would feel better. Miguel agreed.
But, as Miguel returned to the car, he noticed something even more puzzling. The further he walked away from the house, the better he felt. By the time he reached his car, he felt like himself again. Standing next to the car with key in hand, Miguel gazed back at the house and mentally retraced his steps. He had been completely healthy all day. As they had walked up to the house he felt ill, but when he returned to the car, all the symptoms vanished. Was there something in the house making him sick?
Curious, Miguel turned back again towards the house. Sure enough, as soon as he reached the front porch he was once again sweating and struggling for breath. What was in that house causing him to react this way? He decided to wait out the rest of the seminar in the car.
After some time Ana and her mother were ready to leave. As Miguel watched from the car, Ana stepped out onto the porch. But, before she could come to the car a tall, gypsy-looking woman with long black hair struck up a conversation with her. “You seem to know a lot about natural medicine,” she said. “Yes,” Ana said. “It’s important for us to take good care of our bodies.” The woman nodded. “Then you might be interested in these,” she held out a small bag containing a collection of multi-colored seeds. Ana had never seen seeds quite like these before. She took the bag from the woman’s outstretched hand to examine them more closely. “For what are these used?” Ana asked. The woman’s eyes darkened as her gaze locked in on Ana. “To destroy marriages,” the woman hissed.
Ana let out a scream and dropped the bag to the ground as if it had bitten her. Fear crept into her heart as her eyes met the piercing gaze of the gypsy woman. “But it’s not you I want,” the woman continued, “I want him!” She flung out her arm in the direction of Miguel and summoned him towards her.
Once again, Miguel returned to the house, but this time no physical ailments tormented him as he stepped onto the porch. His breathing was normal. His temperature was normal. He felt completely healthy.
Standing between his wife and mother-in-law, Miguel felt the gypsy woman’s eyes bore into his. Immediately, she began speaking in an distressed tone. “You were born in November 1974,” she began. “When you were age fifteen, you…” Miguel froze. He had never met this woman before and yet she knew details about him that were personal and private. Secrets known only to God and himself, she now dragged out and paraded them for all to hear. One negative memory tumbled after another as the woman continued her tirade. “Isn’t this all true?” she accused. Miguel could only nod in quiet confusion. “My spirits are telling me,” she concluded triumphantly, “That tomorrow at this time, you will die in a car crash.” Ana gasped.
Silently, Miguel began to pray. “Father,” he began, “This woman just told me all about my past. And now she’s also telling me my future. I don’t want to be confused. Please give me Your discernment to know what is true.” In a flash, a passage from the Spirit of Prophecy came to his mind. “By revealing hidden things of the past, Satan inspires confidence in his power to foretell things to come.” PP, 687.
Miguel was also reminded of the story of Daniel before King Nebuchadnezzar. None of the other wise men could tell the king anything. But when Daniel approached the throne he declared, “The secret which the king hath demanded cannot the wise men, the astrologers, the magicians, the soothsayers, shew unto the king; but there is a God in heaven that revealeth secrets, and maketh to the king Nebuchadnezzar what shall be in the latter days.” Daniel 2:27–28.
Instantly, Miguel had his answer. The truth God had revealed to him replaced his confusion with courage. Looking boldly into the gypsy woman’s face he said, “Everything you have told me is true. You may know everything about my past, but my future does not belong to you. Only the God of heaven knows my future. Tomorrow I will not die, but live!”
“I don’t believe in your God!” the woman snapped angrily.
“Why not?” Miguel asked. When the woman didn’t answer, Miguel pressed on. “What spirits do you have? Tell me. The Bible says that I should test the spirits to see whether or not they are of God.” (I John 4:1). The gypsy woman began to grow more and more agitated as Miguel spoke. “Yes!” The woman screeched. “I love to hear about Jesus! Tell me more about your Jesus! I love to hear about Calvary and how the nails pierced His hands and feet.”
Her face morphed into a hideous expression as she spoke making her appear more demonic than human. Suddenly, her coal-black eyes faded into a ghostly white and her voice deepened to a ghoulish pitch. “I especially love to hear about how His body was wracked with pain and His blood spilled out…”
There was no doubt in Miguel’s mind now as to whom he was speaking. Like a soldier in battle, he wielded truth like a sword and dealt a deadly blow. “It is the blood of Jesus Christ that is my salvation,” he said firmly, “And yours.”
“Nooooo!” the gypsy woman shrieked.
To be continued...