During my Fort Wayne Bible College days, we all had our favorite professors and mine was Dr. Sterling Demond, Rev as he was known then. Every professor had their own methods and their specialties. My degree goals often intersected with the classes he taught and I liked his teaching style. His were some of my most memorable classes. Some of the greatest lessons I learned as a student were those taught unexpectedly by him. It was during a class on the mundane that I was given a lesson on miracles.
Rev was teaching on the subject of how youth pastors and youth leaders should be prepared before a weekend of ministry. In those days, Sundays were still sacred which meant that gas stations, grocery stores and other assorted businesses were closed. As such, Reverend Demond was admonishing future leaders to plan ahead for their ministry needs. He was going through a list when he stopped at gassing up the car and told a story.
He was a youth pastor at the time and about to take his car to run errands then top off the gas tank but it would not start. Having some mechanical ability, he tinkered with it without any success. He needed his vehicle. Any youth pastor knows that their car is a major tool of ministry. Without transportation, a youth worker is crippled.
After doing everything he could think of, Rev went back into the house and began to pray. He prayed for the car, asking God for a miracle. It was just a small thing, no big deal beyond Rev’s world. But it was important to him so he assumed it was also important to God. Then he prayed for his teens, prayed for the church and prayed for everything else he could think of. He was not sure how long he prayed, but after quite some time, he felt God telling him to go out and put some oil in the car. He had checked the oil; it was a little low, but not a problem. Nevertheless, he did as he thought God had instructed. Then he closed the hood and went back into the house to pray.
For God did not tell him to try to start the car, just add a little oil.
In the house, he prayed once again for the teenagers in his ministry, the church and, of course, requested a miracle for the car. More time passed and he felt God’s direction to start the car.
Leaving the house, he climbed in behind the wheel and switched on the key. The engine promptly turned over.
Pastor Demond ran his errands, filled up the tank and drove the car all weekend with no problems. In fact, he drove it for years and, other than regular maintenance and the occasional extra drop or two of oil, he never again had any trouble with it.
This week, I have been reminded of that miracle and the miracles that have happened in my life, little events with no world-shaking implications, but important nonetheless to me. Yet for each miracle that I experienced, there were the requests for divine heavenly intervention that did not occur; miracles that never happened.
I do not understand why or for what reason I received the miracles that I did or why He turned me down for the others, but I do understand that they came because I asked. This week, I have been driven to my knees, awaken at night by the need to pray and my mind constantly occupied by my desire to see God act in a big way for a very little thing, a miracle.
I know to pray for miracles, even small ones, it was how I was taught.
Rev was teaching on the subject of how youth pastors and youth leaders should be prepared before a weekend of ministry. In those days, Sundays were still sacred which meant that gas stations, grocery stores and other assorted businesses were closed. As such, Reverend Demond was admonishing future leaders to plan ahead for their ministry needs. He was going through a list when he stopped at gassing up the car and told a story.
He was a youth pastor at the time and about to take his car to run errands then top off the gas tank but it would not start. Having some mechanical ability, he tinkered with it without any success. He needed his vehicle. Any youth pastor knows that their car is a major tool of ministry. Without transportation, a youth worker is crippled.
After doing everything he could think of, Rev went back into the house and began to pray. He prayed for the car, asking God for a miracle. It was just a small thing, no big deal beyond Rev’s world. But it was important to him so he assumed it was also important to God. Then he prayed for his teens, prayed for the church and prayed for everything else he could think of. He was not sure how long he prayed, but after quite some time, he felt God telling him to go out and put some oil in the car. He had checked the oil; it was a little low, but not a problem. Nevertheless, he did as he thought God had instructed. Then he closed the hood and went back into the house to pray.
For God did not tell him to try to start the car, just add a little oil.
In the house, he prayed once again for the teenagers in his ministry, the church and, of course, requested a miracle for the car. More time passed and he felt God’s direction to start the car.
Leaving the house, he climbed in behind the wheel and switched on the key. The engine promptly turned over.
Pastor Demond ran his errands, filled up the tank and drove the car all weekend with no problems. In fact, he drove it for years and, other than regular maintenance and the occasional extra drop or two of oil, he never again had any trouble with it.
This week, I have been reminded of that miracle and the miracles that have happened in my life, little events with no world-shaking implications, but important nonetheless to me. Yet for each miracle that I experienced, there were the requests for divine heavenly intervention that did not occur; miracles that never happened.
I do not understand why or for what reason I received the miracles that I did or why He turned me down for the others, but I do understand that they came because I asked. This week, I have been driven to my knees, awaken at night by the need to pray and my mind constantly occupied by my desire to see God act in a big way for a very little thing, a miracle.
I know to pray for miracles, even small ones, it was how I was taught.
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