About sixteen years ago, I went on holiday with my parents to a caravan in the south of England. WE had a very special few days, as this would prove to be one of my final trips alone with them before my marriage. There was a particular English castle I’d always wanted to see, so my dad decided it would be a good opportunity to visit.
We had an interesting time wandering around, then decided to head back to the car, stopping for the obligatory bathroom break on the way. It was when I got back into our vehicle that I suddenly realised something was missing. I’d hung my handbag on the toilet door when I went into the cubicle, and had rather foolishly come out without it.
It’s a standing joke that women keep everything but the kitchen sink in their bags, and I’m probably one of the worst culprits. My phone, my purse, … Everything of importance was in that bag. And I’d left it hanging in a public place where anyone could pick it up and take whatever they liked. I held little hope of it still being there when my mother and I returned. And of course, it wasn’t. Someone had clearly taken it.
My mother and I went to the reception desk and they gave her a lost property form to fill out. I wondered how many things had been lost in that place and never returned to their rightful owners. Yet as my mother wrote on the form, I was praying. I’ve always believed Jesus cares about everything in our lives – even the seemingly most insignificant details. He knew where my bag was, even if I didn’t.
We left the reception area and they promised to contact us if anything came to light. But I could tell they weren’t holding out much hope. That was fair enough, as this was probably a regular occurrence. So imagine my delight and joy when, as we exited the building, my mother suddenly started dragging me toward a woman who was walking in the opposite direction carrying my pink bag. She told us she had found it in the toilet and had been on her way to hand it in to the reception desk. Everything was present and correct, and I was extremely grateful and offered a prayer of thanks.
Some people might argue that it was ironic or good luck that we left the building just in time to see that woman carrying my bag, but as Christians, we believed God had heard our prayers and that it was all part of his perfect timing.
Fast forward to just a week ago, and two more things happened that circled my mind back to this old story with my bag at the castle.
My closest friend Lou and I were due to sing together at an outdoor event. Lou plays the ukulele, and she has always worried about what might happen if a string broke and there was no one around capable of fixing it. Being blind, neither of us have a clue about re-stringing a ukulele. And the likelihood of there being someone present at a church event who might be able to help seemed slim.
Lou came over to my house to practice on the Wednesday before the event. She said she’d been having those old fearful string-breaking thoughts again, and as she lifted her ukulele out of its case it happened. We heard a twang, and the string was gone. At least it hadn’t been when we were about to perform. But it just so happened that my father-in-law was visiting for the day, and being a former musician, all be it on drums rather than guitar, Lou thought she’d ask on the off-chance that he could re-string her instrument.
Half an hour later, the ukulele was re-strung and we could practice. The thing Lou had most feared had happened, but God had provided. His timing was perfect, and he’d shown her that if she’s stepping out in faith to do something for him, he will overcome any obstacle that might stand in her way.
Again, was this a stroke of luck or a coincidence? I don’t think so.
Finally, I can’t count the number of church meetings I’ve attended where we have discussed closing the building one Sunday morning and having an outdoor service at a different location. Yet someone has always quashed the suggestion by asking what would happen if a person came to the church for the first time and found it wasn’t open. Surely that wouldn’t be fair. If our notice board says we have a service at ten-thirty every Sunday morning, then we should honour our commitment and make sure the doors are open.
Well a fortnight ago, we finally moved our service for one week only to a campsite owned by one of our members. The idea was to follow it up with a barbecue, enjoy the good weather, and maybe reach out to people who would feel uncomfortable about entering a church building. But then there was the issue of transport. Some of our members don’t drive, so everything had to be arranged.
Just before the service, a couple went to pick up a mother and her three young children. They’d agreed to meet at the church. As they pulled in, they saw someone else standing outside. She was new to the area and had just taken a job as a nurse at the local hospital. She had prayed about finding a church, and God had led her to ours. But when she arrived the church was locked and no one was there. Perhaps she was on the verge of going back home or seeking out another place to worship. But God ensured help turned up just in time, and they were able to bring her to the outdoor service and barbecue along with the other family.
On the one occasion we’d closed our church, the worst had happened. Someone new had come and we weren’t there to greet them. But the Lord greeted her with helpful friends who were able to redirect her to the right place. He knew the building was closed and why, and he made sure everyone’s needs were met.
I’ve shared these three stories because I often hear people ponder why God doesn’t seem to work miracles today. In the Bible, we read of so many wonderful things, but we can become so caught up in the mundane things of life that we neglect to see the miracles that are happening all around us.
These may seem like small insignificant things – a missing handbag restored, the right person being present at the right time to fix a ukulele string, and a woman who needed fellowship being taken to the correct place to attend church. Perhaps they’re not as spectacular as sight being restored to the blind, the dead being raised, or thousands being fed from just a few loaves of bread and a couple of small fish, but I see them as miracles all the same. They all relied on perfect timing, and our God is an expert in that area just as he is in so many others. I see them as evidence of a Heavenly Father who loves his children and wants to be involved in every detail of their lives.
If you look for the miracles in your every-day life, I am convinced you’ll see them. Feel the hand of God. Feel his love for you, and thank him for his care.