GOD'S PROTECTION
Once upon a time, in a bustling city, there lived a famous preacher—a revered bishop known for his powerful sermons and deep faith. He was preparing for one of the largest crusades the city had ever seen, a grand event where thousands would gather to hear the word of God. The excitement was palpable, and the people eagerly awaited the day when they would hear him preach.
In the days leading up to the crusade, the bishop went into deep prayer. He retreated for nine days, dedicating himself to morning and evening prayers, fervently asking God for one thing—clear weather. He knew that rain could ruin everything, and he didn’t want anything to interfere with the message he had prepared for the people. Every morning, he would wake up, kneel, and plead with God:
“Lord, let the weather be clear on that day. Let no rain fall, so that your word may reach many hearts. Let nothing hinder this mission.”
His faith was unwavering, and he believed God would answer his prayer just as he asked.
Finally, the much-anticipated day arrived, and everything seemed to be going as planned.
The sun shone brightly in the morning, casting a warm glow over the city. The crusade ground was alive with activity. A massive crowd gathered, their voices blending in a chorus of praise and worship. The sounds of pianos, drums, and joyful singing filled the air as people lifted their hands in devotion. The atmosphere was electric, and the bishop sat in his posh car, ready to be ushered in at the right moment.
Then, slowly, the skies began to change.
At first, it was just a few clouds, drifting in lazily. But as time passed, the clouds thickened, growing darker and heavier. A strong wind swept through the crowd, making people glance up uneasily. Then, just as the preacher was about to step out of his car, the first raindrop fell. It was barely noticeable at first, a light drizzle that quickly turned into a steady downpour. Within minutes, the rain became relentless, pouring down in torrents.
The once-excited crowd scattered in all directions, running for shelter. The sound technicians scrambled to protect their equipment, disconnecting cables and covering speakers as quickly as they could. The musicians abandoned their instruments, desperately trying to shield them from the rain. The carefully planned crusade was falling apart before the preacher’s very eyes.
From inside his car, the bishop watched in horror. His heart sank as he saw everything being washed away—the people fleeing, the stage deserted, the event completely ruined. His nine days of prayer had been in vain.
“Why, God?” he whispered, his voice shaking with anger and disappointment. “I prayed for nine days! Why did you let this happen?”
He could not understand how God could allow such a thing. In his mind, this was a punishment, a betrayal by the very God he had served so faithfully.
When he returned home, he was still seething with frustration. Without hesitation, he took his Bible and handed it to his wife.
“I will never preach again,” he declared bitterly. “God hates me. He has humiliated me in front of thousands!”
His wife and children tried to console him, reminding him that rain was natural and that perhaps it was simply not meant to be. But he would not listen. His heart was closed, and his faith shattered.
From that day on, bitterness took root in his soul. He stopped praying. He turned away from God. He abandoned his calling. The fire that once burned brightly in him was extinguished. He even began drinking, frequenting bars and clubs, drowning his sorrows in alcohol. He no longer saw himself as a man of God—only as a man forsaken.
One evening, he sat in a dimly lit pub, lost in his thoughts. He had become a regular, blending in with the drunkards and wanderers. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, and the sound of laughter and loud conversations filled the room. He sipped his drink absentmindedly, his mind drifting back to the crusade, to the rain, to the moment everything changed.
Then, out of nowhere, a rough voice called out to him.
“Well, well… look who we have here!”
The bishop turned and saw a man staring at him—a man who clearly recognized him. He was one of the city’s notorious troublemakers, a man known for his criminal activities.
“Bishop! What a surprise to see you here! When did you start enjoying a drink?” the man jeered. “I remember you condemning us for this!”
The preacher forced a weak smile, but before he could respond, the man leaned in closer, his tone shifting. “Do you remember the day of your big crusade? The day it rained?” The bishop stiffened, his grip tightening around his glass. “Our city mayor wasn’t happy with your preaching,” the man continued. “You spoke too boldly against his leadership, and he wanted you silenced—permanently.” A cold chill ran down the preacher’s spine. “We were hired to kill you that day.”
His breath caught in his throat. “We were stationed all over the field,” the man said, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “We were waiting for you to step onto that stage. The moment you appeared, it would have been over.”
The bishop’s heart pounded. “But then… the rain came.” The man chuckled. “We had to abort the mission. Our leader told us to wait for the rain to stop, but it never did. You never appeared. We left frustrated, and the mayor was furious with us.”
The group at the table laughed, completely unaware of the storm raging inside the preacher’s soul. But he wasn’t done. He needed to know more. His voice was hoarse as he asked, “What happened next?” The man smirked. “We went back to the mayor and explained that we didn’t kill you. But to save ourselves, we told him we had warned you never to preach in the city again. That way, we could still get paid.”
The others at the table burst into laughter. One of them added, “Luckily enough, you never preached again. Maybe you even transferred to another town.” The preacher sat frozen, his mind racing. The heavy rain. The ruined crusade. His anger at God.
God wasn’t punishing me. He was saving me.
His hands trembled as he set his drink down. The reality of the situation crashed over him like a tidal wave.
Murmuring an excuse, he quickly stood up and stumbled out of the bar. His vision blurred—not from alcohol, but from the tears welling in his eyes. He needed to get home. He needed to pray.
The moment he entered his house, he grabbed his Bible—the very same Bible he had discarded in anger months ago. He clutched it tightly, fell to his knees, and wept.
His wife walked in, unimpressed. “I told you to stop drinking,” she said, shaking her head. “Look now, you’ve made yourself a fool.” She turned away, uninterested in his tears, and went to bed. But he didn’t move. When morning came, his wife found him in the exact same position, eyes red and swollen from crying. Now she was worried. She knelt beside him, touched his shoulder, and asked, “What happened?” Through fresh tears, he shared everything—his anger at God, his loss of faith, the truth he had learned in the bar, and the realization that God’s plan had been at work all along.
His wife and children listened, eyes wide with shock. “God wanted you to continue preaching,” his wife whispered. The bishop bowed his head. “I was too blind to see it. I let my own plans cloud my faith. I need to return to my calling.”
That day, he vowed to preach again. To trust in God’s plan, even when it didn’t make sense.
God answers prayers in ways we do not always understand. What seems like a setback may be divine protection. What feels like rejection may be redirection.
This story teaches us that God answers our prayers in the best way, even if we don’t see it right away, his protection is always with us. Just like how in the story of Elijah, even when things are tough, God is there. It also tells us that we shouldn’t rush or get too worried. Even when things seem confusing, there might be a good reason behind it.
Let us not be quick to despair when things don’t go our way—because God’s way is always higher.
ALLOW GOD’S PLAN TO TAKE PRECEDENCE.
