God Whispers

    Names used are not the people’s real names. This is a true story though.   Oh no! I was a young Christian and had just completed my short-term Bible College course. The head of the College had just announced, ‘Ask God where He wants you to go.’ Meaning, which country to do missionary work. I was horrified. I had no feeling of being called anywhere. I was happy living in Brisbane, doing evangelistic work, and relief teaching which I loved. I had a boyfriend/cum fiancé. Was I meant to go somewhere different? I must be. That man always seemed to know what God wanted. Christianity was new for me and I sometimes found things like this puzzling. I thought of my sister and her husband doing missionary work in New Ireland (PNG) and had vaguely   heard someone say they wanted a teacher there … so I applied and was accepted as one of their missionary group. If it didn’t work out, I told myself, I could always have a tropical beach holiday with my sister and her husband and then co

  That awful pain     1984 Heavy set-in rain beats against the side of the grimy old plastic and metal phone booth. Water gushes in filthy streams down the sides. I shiver and try not to breathe in the stink of cigarette smoke and unwashed clothes.   Outside the world is grey.   Everywhere I look there’s pouring rain, gloomy skies, bodies huddling under poking umbrellas. Damp people scurry across the puddly road, horns blare irritably. Car headlights splash smudges of light through the driving rain.   Everything seems depressing outside – and inside. Pain nags at my back, drags down my leg. The doctor’s words clang in my mind, over and over. I’ve just come from the appointment. He frowned as he poked and prodded my sore stomach, then called his doctor-wife to prod some more.   They disappeared behind a screen, then he emerged, serious-faced. His words shattered my heart. Handing me some forms, he announced, ‘You need to have these tests. I’m sorry to say, you probably h

The day began like any other day in spring in Brisbane, many years ago. I was looking forward to it - a  day out on the Sunshine Coast with four friends. 'I'd like to drive up early, before the traffic,' Rowie told us. 'Like, leave about six.' So at six o'clock on a fine morning, we huddled into Rowie's big old station wagon. Soon we were speeding up the highway to the coast.   Rowena was driving, alert but tired. We three in the back seat tried to stay awake. At that time I lived in a no-man's land, almost but not quite a Christian, still finding my way and I loved the time together singing Christian songs and laughing. After a while, we three in the back seat were dozing. 'Look at the Glass Houses!' Sue said.       I forced myself to open my eyes, not wanting to miss anything. The first rays of sun shafted over the horizon, misting the paddocks with gold.   I peered sleepily at great hulks of rock towering above us as we passed th

    A man plans his ways but the Lord directs his steps   Proverbs 16:9   Once again I have changed all the names except that of Pastor Gerald Rowlands.   So … I was moving to Nambour, hoping to have a small farm to grow vegetables AND I’d have Ps Gerald Rowlands as my pastor, but we had yet to find our elusive house. I was returning to the region I loved. I was excited, too, that God had so clearly directed me to live there. But we needed a house to live in.   Sue and I scrutinised the papers and rang estate agents. There was nothing. I began to wonder if I’d misunderstood God’s leadings.   Again, Anne came to the rescue. The phone rang early one cold morning. I huddled in the hallway in my dressing gown, as Anne bubbled, ‘Nettie, I’ve found your house!’ She described it – an old Queenslander set in the hills outside Nambour. Plenty of room. A lovely outlook. It sounded perfect. I arranged to go and stay with Sue, on the Carsons’ farm. Angie Carson was a kind,

A man plans his ways but the Lord directs his steps. Proverbs 16:9     PART ONE   I have changed all the names except Pastor Gerald Rowlands in this true story.   Visiting friends in Nambour last week, I was reminded of the unusual way God led me to live in Nambour for several very happy years.   In my mid-to-late thirties I went through a difficult time after ending a relationship. Life had been hurrying along in one direction for the previous year or two, but suddenly it stopped. I moved back from my idyllic home in the Sunshine Coast hinterland to my family in Brisbane. What was my life all about now? Worst of all, I felt I had lost my way spiritually.   One sunny June day, I set off with friends to hear Pastor Gerald Rowlands speak at a Women’s Aglow meeting. He was a Christian minister whose preaching I had enjoyed since my earliest days as a Christian. He was a very popular speaker. As I sat and listened to him speak, life – exciting spiritual life –

    Well, yes. Why write? All that time writing, editing, proofreading, proofreading again and again … After all, I could be baking delicious cakes for the family to enjoy or digging weeds from our overgrown back garden to allow the lettuces to emerge. Or else – sigh – tidying my study. I can see only a small part of my lovely wooden desk now. If I were earning a fortune with my writing, it might be different. But I no longer am. I earned a reasonable amount at one stage but I seem to have outgrown that stage. Can I justify this self-indulgent use of my time? Admittedly I sometimes feel I have something Really Worth Saying, something God-birthed. But anyone else could write it, couldn’t they?   My memory prods me. Didn’t God say writing was one of my talents? The bible has a lot to say about talents; they are for use, not burial. So yet again I replay the scene.   Gods’ view of my talents Back in early 1980, I was sharing a flat with a friend in Bardon in Brisbane. Our