The bible claims Jesus turned water
into wine, he healed the sick, he gave sight to the blind, he walked on water
and he brought back dead people to life. But nearly two thousand years down the
line, many claim that such miracles do not happen anymore. In fact, miracles in
themselves have stopped occurring. Or at least that is what they wish to
believe. And the reason for all this- they see nothing that looks like a
miracle to them. But is this not what Jesus himself had prophesied about our
generation? When St. Thomas insisted that he had to touch and feel the
crucifixion wounds of Jesus if he were to believe in the resurrection, his wish
was granted. However, Jesus then said, “Have you believed
because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come
to believe”. (John 20:29). Wasn't Jesus talking
about us? We, his children who believe in his name yet have not seen him! In
spite of that, miracles happen in our lives every day. We are either too busy
to acknowledge them or we are too ignorant to accept them to be miracles.
It was a cool breezy morning in Muscat
sometime in December 2009. I was preparing for my class 10 mathematics exam
which was scheduled for the following day. This exam was very important to me
since it would be one of the deciding factors for my admissions to class 11.
Hence, for one final revision, I was on my way to the tuitions in a hired
vehicle. I had known the driver for a while. He was a soft spoken gentleman who
was always careful with the roads. We had to take a full 270 degrees turn
around a roundabout to reach our highway. We were halfway making this turn with
careful acceleration when suddenly I felt the car moving freely as if over ice.
My driver had lost control of the steering. It was as if the car turned exactly
where he did not intend it to. I knew something bad was going to happen. There
was a lot of noise outside and I sensed chaos. Then I heard the sound of the
tires skidding and the brakes being hit hard. From the rear view mirror I saw
the cars behind me coming to sudden halts. Before I knew it, our car had
crashed into the grass-patched roundabout. And then it was silence.
It took me a while to realize that it was an
accident or at least what had to be a really bad incident. My driver was pale.
Of course he would be. He had to worry about not just his life, but about the
car and yes, about me too since I was apparently his responsibility. I told him
I was fine. We got out of the car. A couple
of by standers came up to us and asked us if we were alright. It did not take
long for the cops to arrive. I knew that my driver may get into trouble for the
accident. I saw him say something to the police and the by standers were
nodding their heads. After a while my driver came to me and gave me some money. He
told me that I would have to take a taxi and go for tuition since he cannot,
for obvious reasons, drop me. Moreover, he had to be present while the police investigated
the cause of the accident and proceeded with the other formalities. But Taxi???
Now my heart began throbbing for real.
In all my life in Muscat I had never traveled in a taxi. I had heard horrible stories about horrible taxi drivers
who did really horrible things to innocent people. Moreover, my parents always
made arrangements for my traveling purposes, and there was never a need to take
a cab for any reason whatsoever. There would either be my dad, or some driver
that he sent from the company, or a next door neighbor, or a friend or some
other human to drop me at places I had to go. But taxi- never!
It was also due
to the fact that the taxi vans always had at least 4 people inside (if not
more) and I was sure I would get too conscious and begin to stutter if I were
to tell the driver where I had to go. To make my situation worse, the place I
had to go that day was ‘Azaiba’. It looks like an innocent name. But it began
with a syllable that was difficult for me to utter at times, especially when I
was conscious. But I could not just stand there. The next day was my exam and I
had already wasted precious time on the road. My other friends would have
already covered several lessons while I was in this situation.
All these thoughts were being brewed
in my mind while I crossed the road and waited at the spot where taxis would
stop. I was scared, worried, tensed and breathless. I closed my eyes and made a
simple prayer “God, if only you could send an empty taxi for me, I could muster
up the courage to utter the place and get there on time. I don’t want to be
stuttering in front of the other passengers. Jesus, please help me”. Though I had never stepped into a taxi in the
13 years I lived there, I was not dumb enough to miss the fact that it was the
busy time of the day when taxis would be full. But before I could complete that
thought inside my head I saw it.
An empty Toyota taxi van was approaching
me from around the corner. Wait a minute. Am I seeing another empty one behind
that? And there was one more behind that, and it was empty except for a single
passenger. It doesn't end there. Two empty taxi sedans were also making their way
towards me. All in all, two empty taxi vans, one nearly empty taxi van and two
empty taxi sedans all waiting for me to choose. I chose the first one. But here
was the best part. I had been concerned about what language would I have to use
with the driver. Would he know enough English to understand phrases like “stop
here”? I opened the front passenger door and the driver greeted me with the
warmest smile of the day. And he spoke in deep accented Arabic, “Where to
man?”. I told him ‘Azaiba’ without stuttering. I got in beside him. The place
was about 6 kilometers away. On the way there were several spots from where
potential passengers would board this shared taxi. But none boarded mine. It
was like a private vehicle just for me. I felt comfortable and relieved. I
would not have to embarrass myself if I stutter while I ask him to stop. During
the journey he spoke to me in fluent English. I was shocked. He spoke too well
for a local Arabic taxi driver. He dropped me off and went on his way.
As I walked to my tutor’s house, I
just realized what God had done for me. Some may call it coincidence, but I knew
it was not one. God knew how scared I was. He knew I was tensed about my exams,
not to mention the accident. And then if I were to board a taxi for the first
time in my life while I was conscious of my stuttering, God knew it would all
be too much for me in a single day. I just couldn't explain what else could
have timed the arrival of those taxis as well as the fluent English of the
driver that day. God works in mysterious ways. At times it is in plain sight.
We just don’t see it.
Thinking over it again, there was no
need for me to be surprised if God answered me that day, for scripture tells
that God would always answer.
We just need to make the call, 50 15 – 91 15 – 2 21:
1.
“Call on me in the day of
trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me” (Psalms 50:15).
2.
“When they call to me, I
will answer them; I will be
with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them” (Psalms 91:15).
3.
“Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord
shall be saved” (Acts 2:21).
The scripture has so many more verses
assuring us of God’s saving hand.
For the remaining three years that I
lived in Muscat, I used countless taxis, at any time of the day. Of course, not
all of them were empty, but I was comfortable all the same. By the way, my
driver was let off the hook. Apparently there was some oil spill on the road
and that caused the vehicle to get out of control. He had come back to pick me up
from tuition that very day.
Miracles are happening all the time. We
just don’t have the time to acknowledge them.
