Although they lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box they 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 her 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," this missionary nurse 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 she did most days, she went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with her. She gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. She explained the problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chills. She 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 the 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 the nurse gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, the girl 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, nurse was put on the spot. Could she honestly say, "Amen?", when she just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, she 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 her a parcel from the homeland. She had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and she had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? The nurse lived and worked on the equator!
Halfway through the afternoon, while she was teaching in the nurses’ training school, a message was sent that there was a car at her front door. By the time she reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the verandah, was a large twenty-two pound parcel. She felt tears pricking her eyes. She felt she could not open the parcel alone, so she sent for the orphanage children. Together they pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. They 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, she lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as she gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then, as she put my hand in again, she felt the.....could it really be? She grasped it and pulled it out--yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle. She cried. She had not asked God to send it; she had not truly believed that God would or even 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 the nurse, 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 her 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." And then she remember what does the Word of God says in Isaiah 65:24 "Before they call, I will answer!"
No, no, don’t let this be just a sentimental story about a miraculously answered prayer. Let it be a story about the core of a faith that reads the Bible and dares to believe that the world presented there has more reality than that grim violent, cynical world we too often think is real.
You see, Jesus went down to the River Jordan to be baptized, from the moment, another reality is made possible. In contrast to the cynical violent world of dog eat dog we think is all there or ever can be the gospel writers, including Matthew, whose account of the baptism of Jesus we just read, ask us to believe in:
...a world where daily life is not determined by immutable "laws of nature," a world where, for example, human beings can walk on water, where thousands are fed with a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish, and where enemies learn to love one another. A world where economics are not driven by the assumption of scarcity, but by the reality of plenty. A world where a shrewd peasant repeatedly trumps the political authorities, where the representatives of the greatest military power on earth are humbled by an unarmed healer from the backwaters of Galilee. If you can imagine this kind of world, you possess an imagination ready to discern the reign of heaven, unexpected, astonishing presence of God." The Reality of A Present God, by Stan Saunders. Lectionary-based commentary on the book of Matthew, Living the Word (Sojourners Online, 1999)
Well, that’s the world we celebrate here: in word and baptism and communion, God is present. And if here, then, we believe, also in your trials and troubles, God will find you. In the worst of what you now face or will have to confront, God will be with you. You just have got to resist that sneering tempter who wants you to believe that faith and baptism and church and Jesus is all bunk. No, Satan is bunk. This is the real stuff, here, that we celebrate.
Yes, for the heavens are ripped open to God’s amazing reality and the Spirit comes down to fill us with the saving presence of God. The whole salvation history, here, powerful. And real. Therefore, someone once said, Live as if Christ died yesterday, arose this morning, and is coming back tomorrow: the unexpected, astonishing presence of God. The wondrous love. Amen.