“For with God, nothing shall be impossible” – Luke 1:37
I believe in miracles. I believe in a God who specializes in the impossible. I have seen and experienced too many things to feel otherwise. God is real and true and above everything.
I’m sitting here talking with my mom and we suddenly realized it is exactly fifteen years ago today that God did an amazing thing to show Himself mighty in our lives. He has done a great many things in our lives on a daily basis but like the Israelites look up to Crossing the Red Sea as a significant milestone so also I look up to that particular event as something wonderful. It is not a miracle like the opening of eyes or the lame walking. No, it is a miracle that shook me more than those have ever done.
There was a door in my parent’s house. It was in the entrance leading from the garage into the house. You can just drive into the garage and enter the house through that side door and you are in the living room. It was a door just like any other door except for one thing, it was loose. Somehow the door didn’t close well and even when you lock it with the key, all you had to do was lean on it and it would swing open. My dad was always planning to fix it or change the door but he always procrastinated and the door was left like that.
Then the unimaginable happened one night.
It was a night like every normal night that day fifteen years ago. My dad was out of the country on an official assignment. It was I, my mom, my grandmother, a female cousin and my little brothers at home. No adult male except an aging unarmed guard. Suddenly the silent night was shattered with the sounds of gunshots.
Anyone that has lived or lives in Nigeria will understand what I’m talking about. They had scaled the security fence, tied down our old guard and they were now trying to gain access into the house. We all woke up and panic ensued. Everybody tumbled out of the rooms running in different directions. Somehow we all found ourselves huddled in the little hall in the center of our house. The telephone was in the living room but nobody was going to move one inch away from that little hall.
And then we started hearing thumping sounds! They were ramming all the doors they could find to break inside. As one, we stared into each other’s eyes as the same thought dawned in our minds – THE GARAGE DOOR! Horror paralyzed us and froze our hearts. I clung tightly to my mom. We all did. Including my grandmother. Then I heard her whispering “Jesus, help us. Show yourself faithful!”
The thumping went on for some time and then the shooting resumed. They shot sporadically into the house from every side. They shouted and yelled for us to open the door or they would set fire to the house. My mom just kept repeating those words over and over “Jesus, show yourself faithful”. Then we started hearing sounds of fighting. There was a whole lot of shouting and screaming for a long time.
After what seemed like forever, there was silence. We strained our ears but could hear nothing. Nevertheless, we stayed right where we were till dawn. It was when neighbors started trooping in in the morning and called out to us that we felt safe enough to leave the hall. We opened the door and saw what we could not explain. There was blood everywhere. On the fence, the walls of the house, the grounds all around the compound. Even leading outside the gate, we saw bloody footprints.
Our old guard who had been tied up outside was the only eyewitness and the only thing he could tell us was they were shooting into the house then one of the robbers brought a can of gasoline to pour round the house and suddenly, the man with the gasoline started bleeding and yelling to be left alone and then pandemonium broke out and all the others started struggling and yelling too. They ended up scrambling and running out of the compound like the hordes of hell were after them, leaving most of their weapons and a whole lot of blood.
We walked round the house and the walls were riddled with bullet holes outside but none had penetrated through to the inside The bullets were lodged in the walls. Not even a single window was cracked! But that was not all. We entered the garage and came to that door. That loose, always swinging opening door.
That day, even though I wasn’t yet a Christian and wouldn’t be for many more years, I stood in awed fear of the greatness and faithfulness of the God my parents served. I have never forgotten the dizzying sense of fear and respect and awe I experienced as I gaped in silence at the evidence of the existence and power of God.
The garage has another door now but in our store room we keep that old scarred door as a testimony to that night when “Jesus showed Himself faithful” according to my mother’s prayer. “But the Lord is faithful, who shall establish you, and guard you from the evil one” 2 Thess 3:3