Crazy Armadillo and Flood Episode (God's Provision)

Few scenes stand out as clearly in my memory as the one back in 2013 in which we faced an impassable river with a visiting team from a supporting church.  I’ll never forget standing there in the rain as the flood waters rose, and our visitors confidently asked Jim, “What’s plan B?”

 

There was no plan!  There was no plan A, no plan B, and absolutely nothing we could do about it except pray. 

 

We had spent the day in a village that had only recently been ravaged by floods that wiped out their crops.  Helicopters from the government had dropped provisions for the people until the crisis passed, but food supply was still limited.  While the team helped pour cement for what would become a church building, and some of us distributed audio Bibles to nearby homes,  the local ladies struggled to put together a lunch to serve everyone.  They were so grateful that God had provided “meat” for this otherwise simple lunch of corn tortillas with cheese and chipil (green tasty herbs).  

 

The “meat” turned out to be armadillo, which most of the team avoided consuming.  I managed to gag it down to avoid offending our gracious hosts, but within a few hours I repented of that noble action.  The armadillo was ejecting itself out of my body in every way possible.  As the team prayed over the would-be church structure, I was getting drenched in a rustic (roofless) outhouse in extreme misery.

 

My desperation to get back to the city and a modern toilet was acute when we reached the river and assessed the situation.  Most of the team members  were standing in the back of an open truck, likewise eager to reach the hotel and get cleaned up and dry after all the mud, cement, and rain.  It became immediately apparent that to cross the river would be utter foolishness.  There were a couple of vehicles ahead of us whose drivers had reached the same conclusion.

 

The kind but humble folks in the village had nowhere we could stay, let alone more food to serve us for dinner.  There were no bridges and no alternate roads out of the village besides the one where we stood.  The car was too small for more than four or five people to get a bit of sleep, and the back of the truck had a tarp way too small to keep the rain out. 

 

As if that were not desperate enough, my insides began to rebel as the armadillo begged to come outside again, and I had to go off the road in the dark into the muddy field to let nature run its course.  And I do mean “run…”  In the dark I chose a place between trees that I later discovered was actually a trail.  I could not have made it one step further in my agony.

 

Returning to the group huddled by the car and trucks, I doubled over and begged for God’s mercy.  Meanwhile some of the men, including Jim and the pastor visiting from a supporting church in Ohio, began to search for any other possible location to safely wade across the river without the vehicles, figuring we could find transportation once on the other side.  It was worth a try, though they came back without any recourse.

 

Much to my chagrin, the pastor returned from their exploration wiping his shoes, trying to remove whatever filthy nastiness he had stepped in.  The smell was unbearable!  It wasn’t until later that I discovered the men had taken a certain path to the other fork in the river, and that was the same path where someone had previously had a bit of a stomach disaster.  I was mortified.  My conscience smote me for years before I eventually confessed to him what the muck was that was plastered to the bottom of his shoes.  Let me just say that armadillo-after-the-fact is gross. 

 

But I digress.  How were we ever to cross to the other side?  That was the question facing us.  I wanted to pray, and I’m sure I was lifting some feeble “if it be your will, Lord” type petitions, but honestly I wondered if God didn’t need one or more of us to endure a whole night of suffering to somehow deepen our reliance on Him.  It’s not that I didn’t trust Him; it was more a matter of reality that God had always delivered me out of all my troubles, and I wondered if this wasn’t finally the time where I learned to say “Blessed be the Lord” in spite of hardship that didn’t end well.

 

To get my mind off the dilemma, I walked back to visit with some folks in a pickup truck that had pulled up behind us, explaining why the vehicles ahead were at a stand-still.  In that truck was a woman who burst into tears when she realized the gravity of the situation.  She explained how she had a newborn baby on the other side of the river who needed her!  At that point, my hopes brightened up and faith was restored.  God may not technically “need” to help my team to get to a hot shower or me to a flush toilet, but He certainly did NEED to get this nursing mom over to her baby.

 

I remember returning to our vehicle with the good news.  “God is going to make a way!”  I announced.  Nothing is impossible for God, and He will help us across.  We then prayed together.  I reminded God that His reputation was on the line since I had assured the young mother that God would hear our prayers and respond with compassion and mercy and provision. 

 

Amazingly, the waters began to recede.  It was remarkable because the rains never let up.  The rains came down, but the floods calmed down.  It made no sense, but it happened exactly this way.  Cautiously we were able to creep across the river without being swept downstream by the raging waters we had witnessed only moments earlier.  In my mind and heart, it was truly a miracle.

 

 "Therefore let everyone who is godly offer prayer to you at a time when you may be found; surely in the rush of great waters, they shall not reach him."  Psalm 32:6