God’s perfect timing

Since the tragic fire in our condominium building 18 months earlier, which took the life of 88-year-old Tom, two other ladies and myself had gathered weekly to pray for our neighbours. Shortly after the fire, my husband Ed was questioned by another very elderly man named Jack as to where Tom would be after his death. Would he be floating around in the sky, or would he be in hell? Ed made it very clear to Jack that unless Tom had made a commitment to Jesus, he would not be in heaven.

We learned a few weeks later that Jack was moving out of the province. My husband and I are members of the Gideons, and I suggested to Ed that we shouldn’t let him leave without giving him a New Testament. I prayed that Jack would cross Ed’s path so this would be possible. Little did I know that this was not what God had in mind.

One day, I met a neighbour lady who said this was going to be the day Jack was moving. My first thought was, “Oh, no. He’s going to leave without us giving him a New Testament.” When I entered our condominium lobby, along with several other people milling around, there stood Jack. I asked him if he had a few minutes to talk. We pulled up a chair, and I asked him a few questions as to where he was going and what his plans for his future would be. I pulled my New Testament from my jacket pocket and asked him, “Jack, I have a little Bible here. Would you like to have it?”

“Oh, sure!” he responded. “My pastor has been trying to give me a Bible, but it’s far too big for me to handle, and this is just the right size.”

Jack had a pastor? He was the last person I’d ever think would even know a pastor. His foul language and worldly behaviour were certainly not in keeping with going to church.

“Where do you worship, Jack?” I asked.

“Occasionally I go to White Rock Community Church. I’ve gotten to know the youth pastor there quite well. As a matter of fact, I’m staying with him for the next week before heading out to the Prairies.”

“Jack”, I questioned, “have you ever asked Jesus into your heart?”

“No,” he responded. “How would I do that?”

What an opening! I explained the sinner’s prayer to him, and he said he understood what I was saying. I continued visiting with him and wished him the best in his new location.

But then, I thought, what if I leave this elderly man and he never makes that commitment on his own and no one else ever witnesses to him? I also had a fleeting thought about all the people who were dashing to and fro in our lobby and what they would think if they saw me holding Jack’s hand and praying with him.

The decision was quickly made. The Holy Spirit gave me the boldness to lead this hungry soul to the foot of the cross. What an awesome privilege to fill in the back of the Bible with his name and the date of him making his commitment. As we parted, he said with a glow on his face, “I can hardly wait to tell the pastor what I did today.” I assured him he was on the right track by doing that, and encouraged him to read his New Testament every day.

As I rode the elevator to our suite, I thought about God’s perfect timing.

Marilyn Willms lived in Richmond, B.C. She passed away March 9, 2003 of a heart attack, a few months after she had written this article.