My Hiding Place

After 44 years in the ministry, I often look back on our lives and stand amazed at the many, many times the Lord has literally hidden us from impending danger, especially in Africa. How often that protective hiding has kept me alive. Not only can we find refuge in Him for the demands of daily life and renewal that only He can give, but He has the ability to overshadow us in such a way that nothing and no one can penetrate that shadow with which He clothes us. Danger can surround us, and we can remain totally oblivious to it. One such experience occurred on a rainy night in tropical Congo.

We returned to our home at Nkara, our mission station, to find the place in need of much cleaning and repair that is inevitable after being unoccupied for months at a time. That is, we live in the States part time and in Africa part time. Much time in the States has to be spent in fund raising and exposing the ministry to keep up with the needs and demands of our growing work in Congo. Soon after our return, our National Director, Pastor Gary Kapinga, pointed out defective plumbing in the downstairs bathroom. Jim removed the old pipes and replaced them with new ones in a different location on the wall, leaving a gaping hole where the old pipe had been located. He covered the hole with mud because it was the easiest and quickest process. Mud is readily available in Congo, and there are always a hundred things needing our attention RIGHT NOW upon our return. He had every intention of using cement to seal the opening.

Several days passed, and Gary said, "You had better cover that hole with cement. On a rainy night, the mud will be easily washed away, and a snake will find the opening and crawl inside to get out of the rain." We agreed. We forgot.

Sure enough, one night the tropical rains exploded out of the sky with vengeance. Our big diesel generator was out of commission, so we used a very small gas generator. The flip of an electrical switch in the bush of Congo does nothing unless the wiring is connected to and powered by a generator. Because of the heavy showers, we placed the little generator on the wonderful screened-in porch just outside our bedroom. Dusk was approaching. We had the option of using the generator to give us a light, not lights, but a light, or we could choose to watch a video. We opted for the video.

In entertainment-starved Congo, we often find ourselves settling for things like opening ads from a Target-purchased video and actually watching the ads if they are decent until we come to the main feature. This is what you do when you are 450 miles from the capital city, and your video library is rather limited to what was packed for this trip. Even though each time we return more videos are taken, the cockroaches and other insects may find the videos left on the shelf in Congo from a previous trip a delectable tidbit in our absence.

I told Jim I would be right back and so, with the hum of the machine only feet away, he began watching the preshow features. I went into Shawn's old bedroom (our oldest daughter) in search of my toothbrush. As I pointed the flashlight on the floor and then all around her room, bingo! There it was. Time to make my way to the bathroom and brush my teeth before settling down in bed to watch the show. When darkness falls in Congo, you cannot see your hand in front of you unless there is a full moon. Black skies prevailed on this evening. So, again, I pointed my flashlight in the direction of the bathroom, glancing down at the floor beneath my feet, when to my horror, I saw a snake. He had the same idea I had and was headed for my destination. I gladly acquiesced.

I remembered that a snake doesn't necessarily attack its prey on the basis of its eyesight, (in this case the prey would be my bare feet). Rather, he responds to objects by their vibrations. So I froze, screaming out to Jim to come to my rescue. Of course, the rumbling of the generator drowned out my cries. So I screamed again and again until he heard me. By this time, that slimy creature had made its way up the shower stall.

Jim yelled, "Yeah?" I said, "There's a snake. Go get your gun." He said, "Oh, great, I'll get the video camera!" I said, "Video camera nothing! Get your gun and shoot this thing." Jim ran down the stairs. I felt like Lot's wife who turned into a pillar of salt--too scared to move and almost too scared to breathe. He bound up the stairs with both! We stood there together and took note of the snake's next move. He had already climbed up one side of the shower stall and down, then up again on the other side. He traversed the wall next to the shower and decided to slither down into the tub. My heart was almost pounding out of my chest as I stood in disbelief. Was this something out of a horror movie?

Jim waited, aimed, and viola! The creature was history. He instructed me never to pick up a dead snake by its tail because her young may be there (who's brave enough to check the gender--just assume it's a female for crying out loud), and they can come out biting. No convincing necessary; I'm a believer! So he played with the snake, poked at it to make sure it was dead, removed its head and scooped it up with his machete. We strung it out on the floor. It measured almost six feet. He then cut the tail off. No babies. He took his precious videos. I joined in, filming him so we would have actual documentation. Excitement mounted. This was the closest I had even gotten to this cursed creation.

Sleep didn't come easily that night. As I lay in bed I asked the Lord in total awe, "Oh, Father, how many times have you done that before? How many snakes have you NOT allowed to come into this house? How many have never come near me because you diverted them? How many narrow escapes has our family experienced without our ever being aware of your Mighty Right Hand of Righteousness being raised against whatever foe was threatening us?"

My mind's eye is now replaying that night as I sit here at my computer. I am filled with wonder at the One who sees every sparrow fall, as my husband says, "He attends every sparrow's funeral." A sense of gratitude overwhelms me. I ask forgiveness for letting the level of wonder and awe slip to a lower intensity than it should be. It is remembering Your incredible acts of deliverance that surges my thermometer of gratitude once again. No wonder you tell us over and over in Scripture to REMEMBER. How soon I forget, Lord. How soon I allow the present circumstances to be a gauge of the decibels of praise I give You. Forgive me for taking my eyes off you long enough to be sucked into the stresses and woes of this life. I so desire to . . . continually offer the sacrifice of praise to You, that is, the fruit of my lips giving thanks to Your Name. Hebrews 13:15

The next day, we called several of the seniors attending Laban Bible Institute on the mission campus to come to our house. Jim pulled the snake out of seclusion. Their eyes danced. Their mouths watered. "He's yours," Jim told them. "By the way, guys, what is he?" They said, "Oh he's an egg eater. He was probably looking for a way to get into your attic and search for eggs." "Is he poisonous?" I asked. "Well, he probably wouldn't take your life, but his venom can make you real sick." This almost six-foot-long disdained piece of flesh would provide dinner for them that Sunday.

It's all what you are used to, right? In a country where stark poverty prevails, where it is a way of life for most, and where it causes many go to bed hungry night after night, the snake was a welcomed entree. They weren't about to turn up their noses at this delicacy.

These men had paid great sacrifices to attend Bible school. They left their families, jobs, and familiar surroundings. Why? Because they in their heart of hearts believed the experience of studying God's Word and learning to use it as a tool in their hands to draw men and women to Christ was more than worth any temporary luxury this world offers. Most had come with only the shirts on their backs, perhaps one pair of flip flops, and no money, not even soap or paper or pencils. But they were foolish enough to believe the Lord would provide for them just as He did daily for those trudging through the wilderness after the big exodus from Egypt. They tenaciously clung to the hope that God would lavish upon them all their needs according to His riches in glory through Christ Jesus.

They counted it a privilege to walk 50 miles one way to share the Word of God with the demon possessed, with the person struggling with despair, with cannibals (yes, they are still present in Congo), and with the one who has strayed and needs to be loved back to the Savior. They were part of a crowd that when a prayer meeting is called, everything is dropped, and they come running to see what God has done, what we are asking Him to do, and confidently trust Him for what He says He will do. They're the ones that James heralds in his book. You know, about being as poor as a church mouse, but soooooo rich in faith, they move the heart of God.

We are the privileged ones to work with people of their caliber, people who carry the sunshine of heaven in their countenances because they have a real grip on life. They know what true wealth and riches are and their meat and drink is the Lord. They have taught me more than I can ever teach them.

We took it all in--the unbelievable pleasure and satisfaction they got out of life evidenced on their faces. We joined in their merriment, wished them bon appetite, and watched them trailing down the hill praising God, and I am sure discussing the best way to serve their God-given provision.