Heaven in the real world

Recently I witnessed a miracle.   I’ve seen the hand of God move that can only be described as an act of God.  But this is different, deeper, more like a glimpse into heaven itself.   One evening José and I were driving through the community when we saw a mother walking along the road with her two daughters. We stopped and offered them a ride. As they climbed into the truck, one of the girls had a constant cough. It wasn’t occasional—it was persistent, the kind that comes back every few seconds.  

I could tell it bothered José.  

After we dropped the family off at their home, José sat quietly for a moment and then said he wanted to drive into town to buy medicine for the girl. When he said that, my first instinct was to tell him not to worry about it—that I would pay for the medicine. But before I could say anything, something inside me stopped me. I knew what I needed to do: let José do this, and just watch. As we drove toward town, I realized José wasn’t just responding to a cough. He was speaking from a much deeper place.  

My friend was speaking from the memories of a little boy who grew up without shoes, in a house with holes in the roof, where rainwater sometimes ran across the dirt floor. He was speaking from the place of a child whose family often didn’t have money for medicine—and often not enough food.  

In that moment, he saw himself in that little girl.
And compassion rose up from deep within him.  

So we went to the pharmacy, bought the medicine, and brought it back to the family. A couple of days later we saw the girl again. Her cough was gone. I was not surprised. I strongly suspect her healing had very little to do with the ingredients in that bottle. I believe something far deeper happened that night.   A heart of compassion here on earth met the heart of compassion in heaven.   For a moment, heaven and earth moved together. And when compassion was united in both places, the healing of heaven flowed down to that little girl—a grace from Jesus, the Son of Man and the Son of God. In that moment I witnessed something sacred—God’s will being done on earth as it is in heaven.  

A miracle of the highest caliber: heaven and earth united, unlocking the blessings of heaven.  
  Work has also begun on the house for Maynor. Photos can be seen here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set?vanity=61554513854625&set=a.122247156596150461   Building here is always an adventure. The atmosphere is relaxed, even while people are working hard. There is always laughter mixed in with the labor. Work stops for conversations, jokes, and the occasional teasing.  Neighbors will stop by to check our progress or engage in a conversation or ask for help. The other day we were staking out the house in preparation for setting the pillars. I was carefully measuring everything, trying to get the layout within one inch of square like my grandfather taught me many years ago. One of the men from the community watched me for a moment and then smiled and said,   “Ron… if it’s within a meter, it’s okay.”   We all had a good laugh about that.   Moments like that remind me how differently people think here—and how refreshing that difference can be. I am grateful to be here, to work alongside these men and women, to laugh together, to eat together, and to pray together. I often look up to heaven and wonder how I got to be so lucky.  
  I shared with a man from the community that we are praying for a pastor. He immediately agreed and said, “We need someone who is worried about the souls of the people in this community.” I could not agree more.