The Madness of Hope + Zambia

I Believe in Miracles

One always remembers the first miracle they witnessed: the first time they realized without a doubt that God was GOD and more powerful than any other.
During my high school years, we lived in a war zone as the country to the south of us, Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), was in a war for independence.
The blacks were fighting for independence from white rule and their base camps were in Zambia, one being just a quarter mile from our farm. Because we were white, we were automatically suspected of being spies. There were roadblocks with armed freedom fighters every day on the road between our house and town, where we went to school every day. This could be scary at times as we never knew what they would do.
I remember one day I was in biology class and we heard the fighter planes. We ran to the windows and saw them wiz by at a very low altitude. We heard the bombs drop and them the saw the planes pass overhead again as they returned home. My dad came to get us soon after that. He knew they had bombed the camp near our house. He had been in the town ship working on a church building and came to get us, to return home where my mom was alone.
My parents and the other missionary couple on our property called a family meeting and we decided it was no longer safe to live where we were. We would pack and move in a couple weeks.
About 15 minutes later, some workers from a missionary property close to us came running to tell us they were torturing and raping our friends, and they were coming for us. We grabbed only necessary items and left in a hurry, to find out they came for us three times that afternoon and evening.
Missionary friends in Lusaka decided they would form a convoy and would all go with us the next day to move our things into down. There was one new couple that was afraid and didn’t want to commit. They went home and prayed until they felt God giving the husband clearance to go. The next morning the men, and our family drove back and loaded up all our vehicles with everything we could take: from furniture, to dishes, to all the animals (including the chickens my father raised for us to eat)
Everyone left in convoy except my father, my sister, me and another missionary from the farm. As we headed out, knowing we would never return to our home, we came up on the roadblock. They wanted us out of the car and were very forceful. We knew if we got out, we might not make it out alive or unscathed. It was ou worst experience ever at a roadblock. Eventually they let us go.
As we drove off, we saw that one man who had been afraid to help, returning for a second load. He was the only one to return. We crossed paths at the roadblock so were unable warn him or tell him to turn back.
When we arrived in town all our fellow missionaries began cheering and clapping. But my dad said, “We cannot celebrate yet, Dan is still there. We couldn’t stop him.” So we formed a prayer circle and prayed, and prayed. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Dan drove up. When asked about the roadblock, he said, “It was funny. As I drove up, they all turned away and walked back into the bush. It was like they didn’t see me.”
That event buried in my heart the power of prayer and of God’s protection. I learned to trust him with faith that believes God can move mountains, make missionaries invisible, and drive the enemy into the bush.
I don’t know why he protected us while our some of our neighbors were tortured or killed. I learned life is not fair, and can sometimes be very cruel. I learned you couldn’t question God. For, His ways are higher than ours. There comes a time when all you can do is trust: and trust knowing that all things (whether good or bad in our eyes) work out for the good to those who have been called by Him. (Romans 8:28)

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I Believe in Miracles + Zambia