In
Fresh Wind,
Fresh Fire, Jim Cymbala, author and
pastor of the Brooklyn Tabernacle, tells the story
of the first financial obstacle he faced upon coming
to the tiny church.
When the first mortgage payment rolled around at the
end of the month, the checking account showed
something like $160 in hand. We were going to
default right off the bat. How soon would it take
to lose the building and be tossed out in to the
street? That Monday, my day off, he remembered
praying, “Lord, you have to help me. I don’t know
much – but I do know that we have to pay this
mortgage.”
He
went to the church on Tuesday. Well, maybe someone
will send some money out of the blue, he told
himself, like what happened so often with George
Mueller and his orphanage back in England – he just
prayed, and a letter or a visitor would arrive to
meet his need.
The mail came that day – and there was nothing but
bills and fliers.
Now he was trapped. He went upstairs, sat at his
little desk, put his head down, and began to cry.
“God,” he sobbed, “what can I do? We can’t even pay
the mortgage.” That night was the midweek service,
and he knew there wouldn’t be more than three or
four people attending. The offering would probably
be less than ten dollars. How was he going to get
through this?
He
called out to the Lord for a full hour or so.
Eventually, he dried his tears – and a new thought
came. Wait a minute! Besides the mail slot in the
front door, the church also had a post office box.
He would go across the street and see what was
there. Surely God will answer his prayer!
With renewed confidence he walked across the street,
crossed the post office lobby, and twirled the knob
on the little box. He peered inside . . .
Nothing.
As
he stepped back into the sunshine, trucks roared
down Atlantic Avenue. If one had flattened him just
then, he wouldn’t have felt any lower. Was God
abandoning us? Was he doing something that
displeased him? He trudged wearily back across the
street to the little building.
As
he unlocked the door, I was met with another
surprise. There on the foyer floor was something
that hadn’t been there just three minutes earlier: a
simple white envelope. No address, no stamp –
nothing. Just a white envelope.
With trembling hands I opened it to find . . . two
$50 bills.
Isn’t that like God . . . taking care of every one
of our needs at just the right time?
Do
you trust him for your greatest needs?
Blessings for the day and God Bless America!
CH
Mike
Michael L. Raymo
CH
(LTC) US Army Retired
Staff Chaplain
Birmingham VA Medical Center
700 S. 19th Street
Birmingham, AL 35233
205.933.8101 ext 5522
To
Heal Sometimes; To Restore Often; To Comfort Always