Henry stood with his wife, along with the other prisoners, with their backs against a cold wire fence. In front of them, camp guards were mounting machine guns on tripods and aiming at them. It was early morning and they had been forced outside in a hurry. There was an uneasy tension in the air and the guards were looking both menacing and stressed.
In that moment, Henry knew they were about to be shot down in cold blood. He gripped his wife’s hand, looked upwards and prayed silently to Jesus. Then, as if out of nowhere, Allied plane after plane flew low over the camp with ‘RESCUE’ painted white on the undersides of their wings. The camp guards panicked, dropped their guns and ran to escape. Saved.
As Henry recounted this memory, I felt transfixed by the intense drama he and his wife had lived through. I tried to imagine that moment when all seemed lost, and then the sudden, unexpected and immense relief of seeing those planes appear. The feeling of hope in the midst of such complete and utter helplessness must have been incredible.
I felt caught up in a similar yet very different drama today when I heard of a young student in the Philippines who is critically ill and whose family is too poor to pay for his medical bills. A poor Filipina prayed to Jesus, raced to his help, gave what little she had and inspired others to get involved too. They pooled enough money to pay for an emergency transfusion.
I try to imagine how he will feel when he wakes up to this news. It’s not just practical assistance. It’s being seen, valued and loved, including by total strangers who chose to act. When have you been rescued from a situation that felt impossible? How did you feel? What difference has it made in your life? How do you bring hope to those without hope?