by Eben Le Roux
Chapter 1
The rain was really coming down in buckets. People had to dash for cover, and every possible hiding place had hurriedly been occupied. Those in the queue at the ticket sales office were soaking wet, yet most refused to leave. Their determination to attend this event made them too scared to start all over again. Some had forced smiles and started conversations with the strangers around them to help boost their bravery against the rain.
A vendor saw this as an opportunity and was doing well selling umbrellas. It did not take long for a second one to joined the trade, as everyone was too desperate to keep their space in the queue.
Everywhere in the city, posters were visible advertising the next day’s miracle service. They were attached to anything possible on the freeways, in the suburbs, townships, and even shopping malls. The miracles that they promised seemed to be what everyone was after.
In the chaos that the sudden storm has caused, a man was holding onto one of these posters to cover his head. Being the only shelter he had to protect him from the rain, it at least had the advantage of keeping him mobile thus keeping his mission continual. It was evident that he was a beggar as he stood out like an icon from all the rest. He came for a reason beyond handouts and food; he was chasing the dream behind the words on the poster. Though still trying to keep a good image of himself, his clothes showed the ravages of time and were partly wet. Yet, with all the odds against him, he still managed to keep a genuine smile as he went from person to person to beg. By noon, he had collected only a couple of coins, and time was running out on him.
Well aware that the office would close in two hours, the beggar’s desperation was beginning to take control of him. As the desperation grew, he thought it be better not to ask for money, but to look for somebody who could buy him a ticket instead. With people refusing to leave their space in the queue and others still waiting in hiding places, it would definitely be sold out by the afternoon. Knowing he could be in a hopeless situation, giving up was not one of his options; as impossible as it might look, he was going to be there until the last minute. He silently started encouraging himself, bringing forward the hope that he had lived on all these years. The sense to be in that stadium was too strong inside him.
There are far too many people here, he thought. There must be at least one person who would make contact with this passion inside me.
It had been six long hours since he arrived there. Most people looked at him in very disgusting ways, some even sneered, and, many times, he was pushed out of the way. Still, he refused to let go, as there was a strange force inside this man. He had no idea what was driving him, but his belief that a miracle was about to happen to him was like a prophetic message conveyed to him.
Peter Johnson was a beggar only in body, but his mind refused to accept it as the final destination of his life.
He had been away from home for more than five years, of which every day he had hoped for a rescue out of a life that he refused to get used to. Besides being a man of principle, he was blessed with a sea full of wisdom. This wisdom had been the core of his hopes. For him, this wisdom could still play a role in someone’s life. Carrying strong willpower, he promised himself not to let his hopes be thrashed by somebody else’s refusal to help. He got more courage from Nelson Mandela’s twenty-seven years in prison and then becoming the President of his country. This confirmed that there was hope for him, too. It did not matter how little his reward would be, as long as he could get away from this dreadful life. He had no wish to die on the streets as an unknown person and he knew that in a world of selfish people, it was mainly up to him to seek his rescue. Faith is what he had plenty of, and that was his driving force. Getting away from there was not an option for him; it was going to be his reward. He just knew it and believed in it day and night.
That day when he saw that poster on the lamp pole, something inside him happened, as if something was switched on. It felt like a door opened to free him out of that terrible life.
That first time he saw the poster, he stared at it for a full five minutes after which the message could never leave his mind.
Paul Simmons, the Gospel Preacher, at the Olympic Stadium. Come with all your troubles. Miracles Will Happen.
rom that moment, nothing was more important for the beggar then to be inside that stadium.
However, the price at the bottom of the poster was his obstacle. For most people, it was not much, but he could not afford it. The fifty-Rand advertising price was like a monthly salary for him. Whatever he made on a good beggar’s day was just enough for something to eat, and still he had to keep a portion to pay for the place where he slept at night. Hope had finally thrown him a target, and he was going to chase it with every portion of his faith.
Searching the area for the right people to approach, he saw a car parked on the opposite side of the road. The couple inside looked like wealthy people who, with their daughter, were waiting for the rain to stop. He saw this as an opportunity; he would ask to queue for them in exchange for a ticket.
Saying a short prayer, he slowly walked over to the car, and they saw him coming. The husband, in a hurry to get rid of him, took out some coins, opened the window, and offered them to him.
‘No, sir . . . honestly, I can do with some money, but that is not what I want. I want someone to buy me a ticket sir.’ He said it very cautiously not to offend the man. ‘If I can queue for you, sir, would that be enough for you to buy me one as well?’
There was so much pleading and desperation in his voice, it stirred the woman sitting in the passenger seat. See even leant forward to look at the pleading face.
‘Please, sir, I have never felt like this ever in my life. Something is about to happen to me, sir. I don’t know what it is, sir . . . I know I have to be inside that stadium, and I know you can help me, please, please, sir.’
The man got angry when the beggar rejected his money. ‘You have the nerve to reject what I have to give you?’
The man suddenly stopped his talking when he heard the passenger door open and his wife got out of the car. ‘Kathy, what are you doing? Get back in here.’ The man’s shouting did not help much as the woman had already closed the door behind her.
Suddenly, the rain came down harder and the woman had to quickly rush back into the car. Looking through the rain covered window, she could see the disappointment on the beggar’s face and immediately felt disheartened. He could not hear them, but he could see that they were having an argument. This went on for about a minute, and the door open again. The woman stepped out into the heavy rain, this time not afraid of it, and walked straight to him.
‘Listen, mister, what is your name?’ Her eyes showed sadness and he deemed it came from the argument.
‘Peter, ma’am... My name is Peter Johnson, ma’am.’ He stepped closer to cover her with the poster.
This gesture really touched her and made her look at him in appreciation before she said, ‘Well, Peter, seeing that this rain does not seem to want to stop, would you really queue for us?’
‘You mean buying the tickets for you? Sure, I will, sure I . . . ’
‘Then buy yourself one as well,’ she interrupted him and reached into her handbag. Instantly, his face brightened up followed by a smile. At that very same moment, pure joy overtook him.
She could see the honesty and the relief in his eyes when he said, ‘Thank you, God’. He looked up at the sky, and while rain smash full in his face, he held his right hand on his chest.
‘You would not run away with our money, would you?’ She regretted her words almost immediately as she could see the honest appreciation in his eyes. The woman became uncomfortable as she could sense something strange yet special about this man in front of her.
‘No, of course not, ma’am you can be sure that I want that ticket more desperately than you do. You can bet on your soul that you will find me back here.’
She studied his eyes, trying to find in them the answer to this strange in
terest she felt in the man. While still looking at his face, she said, ‘I don’t know why, but I trust you, so do not disappoint me.’ Without any further hesitation, she handed him the money.
Overcome by relief and appreciation, Peter Johnson turned to the woman and said, ‘Ma’am, your blessing will be a thousand times greater than mine.’
If Peter Johnson did not know the spiritual sensation his words had activated inside Kathy Atkinson, he was soon to find out.