I DARED TO CALL HIM FATHER
Chapter 10. Learning to Live in the Glory
As I sat at the window overlooking my garden, a strong wind bent the tops of the trees. In it I eemed to be catching an extraordinary message that I could not believe I was correctly hearing
"You can't realy be telling me that, Lord," 1 said smiling, "T'm justhearing voices! You don't want me to go to Karim's funeral. It would be unseemiy. It would be in poor taste. I would endup offending people who are in mourning."
Even as I objected, I recognized once again the sense of His Presence beginning to fade Immediately, with this sign, I began to wonder if perhaps I really were being told to do this extra- ordinary thing, to go straight into the face of the hostilities of the boycot
Finally, breathing a deep sigh, I got up from my place at the window, shrugged and said aloud 'Im beginning to learn, Lord. My sense of the right thing to do is nothing compared with Yours! I'll go, since You are telling me to so.
And, of course, the sense of His Presence returned.
What an extraordinary series of experiences I was having with this coming and going of His glory. Still, I had the feeling that I was just on the verge of understanding what this was allabout. How would I be able to learn to stay in His Presence for an ever increasing percentage of time? Idid not realize that over the next two months I was to have a series of experiences thatw would take me a step further in this learning process
I stood in the cobblestone lane in front of Karim's house, hesitating In spite of my promise to obey and the knowiedge of His presence, I could feel my heart pounding and mouth turning dry. Taking a deep breath I headed toward the stone house, which stood among others like it. I walked into the court yard and stepped onto the veranda, subject to the stares of the village people who were sitting around quietly. Iwent inside the old-fashioned house with its carved ceilings and white, plastered walls where Karim and I had so often laughed and played together.
There was no laughter now,. On top of the gloom of the family in mourning was added the chill of a score of contemptuous glances directed my way, I looked toward a cousin with whon I had been very close, Our eyes met for a minute; my cousin quickly turned her head and began talking with a neighbor.
Now squaring my shoulders I stepped into the living room of Karim's house, then sat down on one of the thick cotton mattresses which had been placed on the floor surrounded by bolsters and cushions to lean on. I smoothed my shalwars around my legs. Suddenly people seemedto wake up, realizing who I was. The quiet soothing conversation that had filled the room suddenly halted. Even the women saying their beads, cach bead signifying a prayer to Allah, ceased ang looked up. The room, which had been hot with the early summer heat and with the scores of bodies packed shoulder to shoulder, suddenly seemed chilled.
I said nothing, made no attempt to be sociable, simply lowered my own eyes and said my own prayers. "Lord Jesus," I whispered in my heart, "do be with me as I represent You to this group of dear friends and relatives who are so saddened by Karim's death.
After fifteen minutes the quiet flow of conversation began again. It was time to pay my respects to Karim's wife. Holding my head high, I arose from the mattress and stepped into the adjoining room where Karim's body lay I gave my condolences to Karim's wife, then looked at the quiet face of my dear cousin shrouded in the new white cotton burial cloth and whispered to myself a prayer to Jesus for this man's spirit. Oh, how I wished I had been able to talk to him be fore he died.
A low humming filled the room as close family members recited prayers or read verses from the Quran. It was all part of the life and death rhythm, which I knew so well. I was turning my back on it all Before sunset today, there would be a procession to the graveyard with the mer from the family following the bier. At the graveside the pallbearers would place the bier on the ground and the priest would call out, God is most great Lord, this is Thy servant, the son of Thy servant. He used to testify that there is no God but Thee, and that Muhammad is Thy servant and Thy messenger .. ..
As I stood listenin g to the soft moaning in the room, I saw Karim's mother kneeling at the bier. She looked so forlorn, I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to go to her side. Did I dare? Would it be an afront? ShouldI say anything to her about Jesus? Probably not. Just my being there as a Christian was bringing Jesus to her side in a caring way.
So I stepped over to Karim's mother and put my arms around her, telling her in a soft voice how sorry I was. "Karim and I were so close. May God bless you and com fort you." Karim's mother turned her face to me. Her dark tear-filled eyes thanked me and I knew that Jesus was even then comforting her sorrow-filled heart.
But Karim's mother was the only one in the room who seemed to accept what I was doing. As I left her and returned to sit down among the mourners, one cousin - a close one too- made quite ashow of risin g to her feet and movin g to another room. Another cousin followed. And then another.
I sat there struggling with the emotions of my own sorrow for Karim and his family on the one hand and with this deep embarrassment on the other. My heart pounded. The hostility was reaching through my protection. It was all I could do to keep seated for the appropriate amount of time until I could stand, make my good-byes and walk out of the room. Finally, when I did leave, ] felt every eye in the household staring at me.
In my car I sat for a moment at the wheel, trying to collect myself I had obeyed, but the cost was high. Certainly I would prefer to have remained at home rather than walk right straight into the maw of this open anger.
If I thought I would have to walk through this valley only once I was wrong. A few weeks over our district another cousin died. Again, I later, just as the earl heat was beginning settle heard of his death through my household. A gain, obeying the Lord's direction, I found myself re- luctantly walking into a room full of mourners, to the chilly discord of hate. As an act of will I fo cused my concern away from myself and toward the one person there who was really bereaved, my cousin's widow. She had a child just going on five, the same age as Mahmud. she looked so forlorn standing by herself at the coffin that I wept for her and for her husband
And then just as I had done at Karim's funeral, I found myself being propelled toward this desperate woman. As I approached our eyes met, and I saw hesitation cross her tear-stained face. Then, with a look of sudden determination, knowingly going against the will of her family, she extended her hand to me. As I held her brown and shaking hand in my own, Iwept in silence. We exchanged only one or two words, but my heart was praying fervently that the Holy Spirit would reach into her bereavement and keep His promise, even to this Muslim dear one, "Blessed are they who mourn."
"Thank you, Bilquis, thank you," the widow said in a whisper as at last she released my hand. I embraced her and walked out of the room.
Oddly, there were two more funerals in quick succession. This was quite unusual even for a family of our size, But in each case I was told very clearly, very distinctly, by the Lord to get out of my safe littie house and go into the place where I was needed. I was not to do too much talking was to let my caring presence be its own witness
And all the while the Lord was working with me. He had so much to teach me, and He was using these funerals as His classroom.
It was during one of these visits to a family funeral that I discovered the next great secret of staying in His Presence.
At a Muslim funeral no one cooks or eats in the house until the body is buried. This usually amounts to a day's fasting and is really not an ordeal. However, that day, as I sat isolated in the crowded room, suddenly found thatI wanted. my usual afternoon tea It was$ something, I said to myself, that I simply could not do without.
Finally, unable to control my desire, I stood and mumbled an excuse. 'I have to wash my hands," I said. I slipped out of the house and drove quickly home where I had my precious tea and returned to the mourners.
Immediately I felt a strange aloneness, as if a friend had left my side. Of course I knew what it was. The comforting Presence of His Spirit had left me.
"Lord," I said to myself, what have I done?" And then I knew. I had told a lie when I was excusing myself.
"But it was only a white lie, Lord," I said. I sensed no comforting from the Spirit. Just a deadness.
"But Lord," I pressed, I don't have to follow those Muslim mouring practices anymore. And besides, Ijust can't do without my tea. You know that."
No sense of His Spirit
"But Father,"] pressed on, "I couldn't telthem that ] went out for tea and cake. That would have hurt them. No Spirit.
"All right, Father,"' I said. "I understand. It was wrong for me to lie. I realize that I was seeking the approval of men and that I must live only for Your approval. I am truly sorry, Lord. I hurt You With Your help I will not do that again ."
And with those words His comforting Presence flooded me again, like rain parched lake bed. I was relaxed. I knew that He was with me
And that was how I learned to move back into Hlis Presence quickly. Whenever I did not feel His nearness, I knew that I had grieved Him. I would search backwards until I spotted the time when I last knew His presence, Then I would review every act, every word or thought until I dis covered where I had gone astray. At that point I would confess my sin and ask His forgiveness
I learned to do this with increasing boldness. Through these exercises in obedience I learned the beautiful secret of repentance. Repentance, I discovered, was not tearful remorse so much as dmitting where I had gone wrong and avowing with Fis help never to make that mistake in the future. As I realized my own weakness, I could call upon His strength.
It was during this time that I discovered there was no such thing as an innocent white lie. A lie is a lie and is always of Satan, the father of lies He uses "harmless" white lies to get us started in this insidious habit. Lies pave the way for greater temptations to come. Satan whispers that. white lie is 'consideration" for other people. We bend ourselves to the world instead of to jesus who is the Truth.
Though I learned this lesson at the funeral of a relative, it was the beginning of a new kind of life for me, one where I attempted to weed out all lying From that day on I would try to catch myself every time I was about to commit a white lie. Once a missionary friend invited me to a gathering that I did not want to attend. I was all set to make the excuse that I had another engagement. A warning signal sounded within me and I stopped myself just in time, Instead, I found that I could be truthful and still not hurt anyone's feelings by simply saying, "I'm very sorry, but I won't be able to be there."
Or there was the dav when I sat down to write a letter to a friend in London and almost automatically began writing that I had been out of town for some time and had not been able to answer his last letter. I stopped, pen poised in midair.
Out of town? Ihad been here all the time. ] crumpled the paper, dropped it into the wastebas- ket and started again . "Dear Friend: Please forgive me for not answering your wonder ful lette sooner...."
Little things, certainly But I was learning that to be careful in small things made it muck easier to handle the larger temptations as they came. Besides, life was so much easier when I didn't have to spend a lot of time contriving.
Slowly, surely, it began to dawn on me that I was trying to live with Christ as my constant companion! Of course, it just wasn't possible to do this. So often I caught myself faling into my old ways! But Ikept trying.
And in the process I discovered the practical side of the promise, "But seek ye first the king dom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you" (Matthew 6:3 3 KJV). For, as I made the attempt to put God first, some of my other heartfelt needs were giver back to me.
One afternoon Raisham came to my room with a startled expression on her face.
"There's a lady in the drawing room waiting to se you," she said
"Who is it?" I asked.
Well, Begum Sahib, if I'm not mistaken it's the mother of Karim Surely she must be mistaken! Karim's mother would not be coming here
I walked into the drawing room wondering who then it could be. Sure enough, there stood the mother of my dead cousin. Hearing my steps she looked up, came over and threw'her arms around me.
"Bilquis," Karim's mother said,tears forming in her eyes, I just had to come personally to tell you something, At first, at the funeral, I didn't see you among allthe people. But I need to tell you how much comfort you were. It's ... I don't know... something new,. Something warm and special."
And at last I saw why I had not been allowed to speak of Jesus directly to Karim's mother during the time ofher crushin g bereavement. For that would have been to take advantage of her. Now however the situation was quite different. Gentiy and softly there in my drawing room I spoke to her about how much Jesus meant to me and how He was slowiy and inexorably chan zing so many of my old imperious ways, replacing them with His warm human personality
"It's true," Karim's mother said. You did care. You really wanted to share my sorrow."
It was a short visit but a wonderful one, Encouraging in two directions: First, that another human being had actually noticed a change in me; and second, I hoped that this was the begin ning of a break in the family boycott.
It didn't happen quickiy though. Every time the phone rang, it was Tooni or one of m' missionary friends. So one morning just before Mahmud's fifth birthday, when the phone rang I expected to hear Marie Instead I heard the friendly voice of the mother of the second cousin who had died. "Bilquis?"
"Yes."
"Bilquis, I just wanted to say how much I appreciated the help you gave my son's wife. She told me you really spoke to her heart."
How interesting, For I had said little. It was Christ who had done the consoling.
we exchanged a few pleasant words and then hung up.
Once again I could not help but be amazed at how Jesus had done the work through me when I said little or nothing about Him directly, It was my being there, representing His Spirit in this time of need, that had been the helper
Over the weeks a few other family members came for short visits. They'd drop by to see Mahmud on his birthday, bringing him sweets and toys. Ostensibly the reason for their visit was to see the boy. Actually, I knew, it was just a good excuse. They really had come to soften some of the hurt of the boycott. The visits were always strained and short. But they were bright, welcome chinks in the terrible wall that had been raised around me
Almost a year had passed since I had made the decision to accept Christ's call. How the time flying! Soon my birthday would be here again. One year since I had given myself to the Lord was And now I was looking forward to my first real celebration of Christmas .T had ofcourse secen Christmas celebrations when I was in Europe; Christmas trees, decorations, manger scenes Santa Claus, presents, al kinds of delicious food, lau ghter and lots of fiun. But never had I knowi what Christmas was like viewed from the heart.
Much as I enjoyed these festivities, there wasn't much real meaning in them. I began to won der ifI could celebrate Christmas in a way that expressed the change that had come into my life.
And then an idea came to mind. Besides having a worship time with the Mitchells, why not celebrate the coming of Jesus with everyone missionaries and people from the village, even the christians. Immediately I heard the warning voice of my family cautioning me not to make ○ display of my faith, and I also heard the general's voice warning me that he could no longer give me official protection if I got in trouble. I knew the idea of such Christmas celebrations wouldbe a threat to many. Yet, after much prayer it seemed to me that my Presence was strongest when I began to make plans for the unusual gatherings
So I went ahead with the Christmas Day celebrations which caused such a stir in Wah. The village people arrived early and congregated around the creche (borrowed from the Mitchells) nd the tree that Raisham and Mahmud had had fun decorating the night before in the drawing room. I had the joy of telling them the wonderful story of God becoming man, because He loved us, In the afternoon, a group of Christians came. 1 sat on the floor with them, tryin g to enter intc their exuberant singing (which was new to me) accompanied by tambourine, harmonium and drums. The Mitchells helped me feel at home with them.
Then to my astonishment one of the servants announced that an aunt and some cousins from Rawalpindi had arrived on a drop-in visit!
My heart lcaped. How would they react? I need not have worried- they reacted in typical upper-class fashion, I'm afraid. First their jaws dropped, then they quietly retired to another room where they sat alone in strained silence.
I didn't want to ignore either group so I spent my time going from room to room. It was like running back and forth from a hot shower to a cold shower.
Finally, perhaps because of my own persistence, a few members of my family began to relax Some even went into the drawing room and joined the festivities around the tree. By the end of the celebrations they were passing small talk with the Mitchells, if not with the others
The party heralded, I hoped, the start of a different kind of year. Not an easier one, just a different one. Because immediately in front of me lay many confusing crossroads that could lead meinto trouble if I took a wrong turn. For along with the smattering of relatives and friendst who were now returning, came a different kind of visitor. They were people who were determined to convert me back to the Muslim faith. I had a feeling that there were interested onlookers, anx ious to see how Iwouldi react to these voices beckoning me back home. Should! keepa discreet silence, or should I really speak my mind?
The answer came to me, again,in terms of my Presence. For whenever I tried to be devious I felt uncomfortable and alone But whenever I answered the loa ded questions forthrightly and in love, then I felt that the Lord Himself was right with me.
One afternoon, for instance, there was a soft knock on my door.I was surprised, for it was two o'clock in the afternoon.
"Yes?"
The door opened. It was Raisham. "Begum $ahib, you have a visitor."
There was a hesitancy in her soft voice . I had told Raisham that I preferred not to be bothered between noon and three in the afternoon. It was not an order, however. Before I would have ordered Raisham sharply not to bother me for any reason between noon and three. Now I ex Plained to her that I no longer considered time as something I owned; it belonged to the Lord. If something came up which she herself thought I should see to, then of course she was to come to my room no matter what the hour.
"Begum Sahib, the man is an Englishman." There was a glint of amusement in her brown eyes. "He says he wants to talk about God."
"All right," I said, wondering, ""ll be right out."
Waiting for me in the drawing room was a pale, sandy-haired Englishman. I was interested in noting that he wore typical Pakistani clothes, a white shirt and baggy trousers. With his pale face and white clothes he almost blended into the white walls of my drawin g room. After apologizing for dropping in without an appointment, he came to the point . He said that he had traveled all the way from Karachi to see me; since he had converted from Christianity to Islam members of my family thought we had interests in common. 'Ah," I said to myself, now I under stand. Knowing how much I like the British, they think I wil be impressed by an Englishmar who has left his Christianity for Islam"
My visitor hemmed and hawed and launched into the purpose of his visit.
"Begum, " the man said, "one thing really disturbs me about Muslims who convert to Christianity It is the Bible. We all know that the Christian New Testament has been changed from what God gave."
He was expressing Islam's main charge against the Bible, that it had been so altered that today's version is untrustworthy. The original, Muslims claim, had agreed with the Quran.
"I hope you won't think Im being facetious, said "Ireally do want to know something Pve heard often that the Bible was changed but I've never been able to learn who changed it. When were the changes made and what passages were corrupted?"
My visitor leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, his fingers drummin g the arm of his chair He did not answer. It was unfair of me, I guess. As far as I knew there were no answers to these questions.
"You see," I went on, drawing on research I had made, in the British Museum there are ancient versions of the Bible which were published nearly three hundred years before Muham- mad was born. On every issue between Christianity and Islam these old manuscripts are iden tical with today's Bible. The experts say that in every basic essential today's Bible had not been changed from the original. This is important for me personally, For to me the Bible has become an alive Word. It speaks to my soul and feeds me. It helps guide me.
My visitor got to his feet in the middle of my sentence.
".. and so" Iwent on, '1 find it quite important to know if there really are places where Im fooling myself. Can you tell me?"
"You talk about the word' almost as ifit were living," my visitor said.
"I believe that Christ is living, if that's what you mean," I said. "The Quran itself says that Christ was the Word of God. I would love to talk with you about it sometime.
"I must be going."
And that was that. I saw my visitor to the door and invited him back. He never did return but others came, some wel-primed for battle and with such misconceptions! IIl never forget the man who accused Christians of worshiping three separate Gods.
"Your so-called Trinity consists of God, Mary and Jesus!" he said. You Christians say that God took a wife who was Mary and from their union Jesus was born. Allah can't have a wife! he laughed.
I prayed quickly. And a clear line of thought came to mind.
"Do you read the Quran? I asked
"Ofcourse."
"Wel then, do you remember how the Quran says that Christ was given the Spirit of God?"I had often wondered how the Quran could have such marvelous truths as this. You perhaps have heard of Sadhu Sundar Singh, the devout sikh to whom Jesus appeared in a vision. This is how Jesus explained the Trinity to him: Tust as in the sun there are both heat and light, but the light is not heat and the heat is not light, but both are one, though in their manifestation they have different forms, so I and the Holy Spirit, proceeding from the Father, bring light and heat to the world. .. . Yet We are not three but One, just as the sun is but one.""
It was quiet in the room when I finished. My guest was deep in thought. Finally he arose, thanked me for giving him time and silently left the house.
As I watched his forlorn figure walk away,it occurred to me to wonder whether my little visits with people like the Englishman and this zealot were really being used by the Lord. had no way of knowing, for I never heard from either ofthem again. It didn't matter. I perhaps should not even wonder about results. The only thing that did matter to me was obedience. If the Lord asked me to talk to these people, then that is what I should da
As the winter rolled into spring, the Lord seemed to give me other ways of speaking too. I went to Lahore and- after a good but strangely uncommunicative visit with my son Khalid- purchased a hundred copies of the Bible to g give away to anyone whc was interested, Ialso bought a quantity of Christian tracts. I gave them away at every opportunity, even leaving them in pubs lic places. I'm not at all sure this did any good. Once, when I went back to check, I found my little stack had dwindled but then I looked in the wastebasket . There, crumpled up, were the copies of my tracts.
"It sems so pointless, lord," I said. "Am I doing what You want? Why is it, Lord,;" I said raising my hands in supplication, "that not one single time have Ibeen able to see the results of talking about you?" There was the English convert to Islam, and the general, and all the servants who had fled, and the hundreds of times I had talked with members of my family and with friends, not one of these times bore visible fruit. "It 's so puzzling, Lord! I just don't understand why You aren't using me."
As I prayed the sensation of Christ's Presence grew ever stronger in that room. He seemed to fill the atmosphere with strength and comfort. I heard in my heart the distinct suggestion "Bilquis, I have only one question to ask you. Think back over those times when you have talkeg with your friends, and with your family. Think back over the times you have accepted people who have come to argue. Have you felt My Presence durin g those visits?"
"Yes, Lord. Yes, indeed I have."
"My glory was there?"
"Yes, Lord."
"Then that's all you need. It is so often this way with friends. And family, The results are not your problem. All you have to worry about is obedience. Seek My Presence, not resulits."
So I continued on my course. The odd thing is that it became an increasingly stimulating and invigorating time. Once the Lord had taken my eyes of the results" and turned them to His Presence, I could enjoy meeting friend after firiend, relative after relative, without the slightest feeling of frustration. I learned to take advantage of opportunities. Whether the conversation was on politics or clothes, I would ask God to prompt a question that would give me an opening For example, once when I was talkin g to a niece, the conversation drifted to my former husband, who was now Pakistan's ambassador to Japan.
"What if Uncle Khalid came to your house?" she smiled,lifting an eyebrow.
I looked at her directly. "I would welcome him. I would serve him tea." My niece looked at me incredulously. "T have forgiven him," I continued. "And I hope that he has forgiven me for all that Idid that hurt him."
"How can you forgive that way!" My niece knew that the breakup had been most difficult
I explained that I certainly could not forgive in my own strength. I had asked Jesus to help me "You know;" I said, "Jesus invited us all to come to Him with our burdens. Jesus took my burder of hate from me."
My niece sat quietly for a while. w ell,"' she said, that is a Christianity I have not heard about If you're going to talk like that, I'll be one of the first to come and learn about your Jesus."
Even here I was disappointed. T had high hopes and believed that indeed my niece might re- turn to the subject, but she never did.
I did have times when the glory left me during this period. It always occurred in the same fashion. I would slip into Satan's trap of convincing me that 1 sounded pretty good! My argu- ments were really quite profound!
One day for instance a friend asked me, Why do you have to be so exclusive? You'll have to admit that we all worship the same God, whether Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist or Jew. We may call Him by different names and approach Him from different directions, but in the end it's the same God."
"You mean He is like a mountaintop to which different paths lead?"
He settled back, balancing his cup of tea, and nodded. And then I flew to the attack.
"Well," I said, He may be a mountaintop but there is only one path to Him, through Jesus Christ. The Lord said: 1 am the way, the truth and the life.' Not just a way," I added sharply, bu the way"
My friend put down his cup of tea, grimaced and shook his head. "Bilquis," he said, "did any one ever tell you that you still come across as haughty?"
And instantly Iknew that the man sitting in front of me was speaking for God. My arguments were right. They were biblical and sound. But the Spirit had left. Bilquis was right. Bilquis was stating truth. Quickly I said a prayer of repentance and asked the Lord to take over.
"Im sorry," I laughed. "If I come across as smug because I'm a Christian, then I'm not acting as Christ would want. The more I learn about Christ, the more I need correcting, The Lord has so much to teach me and I know He is speaking right now through you."
My visitor left, perhaps closer to the Lord, perhaps not. 1 doubt that I shall ever know. But I do know that I was, step by painful step learning to listen and to obey.
And then one night I had another one of those frightening experiences that came only after I had become a Christian. I was in my room preparing for bed when I suddenly felt a powerfu presence of evil at my bedroom window. Instantly my mind turned to my Protect or and I wa. warned from going near the window, I dropped to the floor in prayer, asking my Lord to cover me as a mother hen covers her chicks and I felt the strong cloak of His protection. When Iarose, the presence at the window was gone.
The next morning, I drove over to the Mitchells . The sun shone brightly on their street but was still shaking inside. Yet, as I walked up to their door, I felt hesitant about mentioning what happened to me for fear they wouldn't understand.
At the door, Synnøve hugged me, then stepped back, her gray eyes questioning me.
"What's wrong, Bilquis?" she asked
"Well"' I ventured, "why do frightening things keep happening after one becomes a Christian?"
She ushered me into the living room where we sat down.
"I don't really know what you mean," she said, puzziled. 'Has someone threatened you?"
"Not someone," I answered, something.
"Oh?" she said, and arose and got her Bible . "Here," she said, siting down and flipping through its pages, "in Ephesians 6 it speaks about that kind of thing," she read," we are up against the unseen power that controls this dark worid, and spiritual agents from the very head- quarters of evil."
She looked up at me.
"That must be it," I said, teling her something about what happened that night She listened thoughtfully, and then said,"Why don't you talk to the Olds about it?" "Well" I said, giving a nervous laugh , 'I don't know if I want to even tall about it anymore."
And that's how I felt at the beginning of our get-together with the Olds that evenin g, I decided not to bring it up. Id simply make a fool of myself, I thought. It was probably just my imagination.
However, as I sat talking with Marie on a sofa before the fire, I couldn't help mentioning it. tried to sound lighthearted.
The strangest thing happened to me last night, Marie," I said. I had the most frightening experience and I can't explain it.
Ken, in his usual relaxed manner, had been sitting in a window seat behind us, reading a book Hearing me, he laid his book down, looked up and sensing my reluctance to talk about it, he, in his own quiet way, gently drew me into explaining the whole episode When I finished, I tried to laugh . 'A nd then again," I said lightly, 'I may have had too much curry at dinner last evening!"
"Don't minimize the things the Lord will bring you through," he said quietly. supernatural things do happen ." He walked around the sofa and sat in a chair facing us. His face was serious.
He explained the supernatural presence of evil and how God can allow it to come upon a per son as a test. As an example, Ken pointed out in the Old Testament how God permitted Satan to attack Job and how He allowed the Evil One to tempt Christ in the wilderness. Both of these, Ken pointed out, were tests. And in each case, he added, Satan's inten ded victim emerged victorious because of his outspoken faith in God. I couldn't help remembering the attack I suffered the sec ond night before my baptism.
Slowly the learning continued. But what I did not know as I gratefully considered Ken's com- forting teaching, was that the Lord had already started a process that was to leave me more and more alone, yet not lonely, more and more cut off from my family, yet part of a great, supportive family; more and more cut off from the roots which meant so much to me in Wah, yet with deep- ening roots in the new City God was preparing for us in heaven.
It was because of these upcoming tests of endurance that He had been placing me, time after time, in situations where I had to depend solely on Him.
