In the early days of our church, my family stayed in a friend’s living room in Hillsboro most of the week and in an office located in a house in Gresham two days of the week. We were just ready to drive to Hillsboro, when we came to our vehicle in a church parking lot, and it wouldn’t start. I’m kinda the opposite of a mechanic, but I looked the engine over only to discover that I didn’t know what I was looking at. We were miles from any place that might be able to help us. We were good and stuck, and we had many miles before we could reach our beds.
Seeing my distress, my five year old son said, “Daddy, why don’t we pray for an angel to come and fix our car?” I said to myself that this was ridiculous and won’t help, but I wanted to be careful with my son’s faith, so I said, “Well, okay. I don’t know that God would send an angel to fix our car. But if you want to, you can pray for that.” “Oh I can’t,” he said, “You have to.” After a short debate, it was clear that my son was going to insist that I pray for something that was just not going to happen. I sighed and said, “Lord, if you want to, you can send an angel to fix our car. If it’s your will, please do it. Amen.”
We sat around for a bit while I considered what other options were available to us. Then, from the park next to the church came a man with a boy, and he approached us and asked if they could play in the playground next to the church. I said “Sure,” and my son looked at me meaningfully, as if to say, “This is the angel, daddy!” So I approached the man and said, “Um, I don’t suppose you know anything about cars, do you? Because our car won’t start, and we’re kind of stuck.”
The stranger said, “Sure, let’s take a look.” He opened the hood, checked the starter and a couple other items, messed around with some unknown mechanical things and in ten minutes he was able to get the car started.
As far as I’m concerned, God sent an angel to repair our car. And he sent a little angel with him so he could play in the church’s playground.