All, received this from our Youth pastor. Be blessed and believe! Gary Rothwell Sr. Cdr. Warwick Assembly of God Hampton, VA Outpost 59, Potomac District Lord, help me BE a "dead man walking!" -- > Helen Roseveare, a missionary doctor from England > to Zaire Africa, told this as it happened to her in > Africa. > > She told it in her testimony on Wed. night at Thomas > Road Baptist Church. The next Wed. night Jerry > Falwell, choked up and said, "I almost feel guilty > for standing in the pulpit after the one who spoke > here > last week". > > READ it. You will have goose bumps and weep with > joy. > > A LITTLE GIRL'S PRAYER > "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 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. 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 the 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 water bottle. > 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 by way of a corollary, "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 twenty-two pound parcel. l > 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 nice > 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, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, > so > she'll know that Jesus really loves her?" > > 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!" Isa 65:24" > _______ To unsubscribe, send "unsubscribe rangernet" to [EMAIL PROTECTED] "Eat the hay & spit out the sticks! - A#1's mule" RTKB&G4JC! http://rangernet.org Autoresponder: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
