While driving home from Stellenbosch
to Strand, South Africa, after work some years ago, I picked up a hitchhiker
with a backpack. His name was Johan, and he was a fifty-four-year-old bushman
from the Kuruman district. He was one of those people I enjoy having in my
company, because he liked to talk and
He was on his way to Mosselbaai,
looking for his sister, whose children he had been raising for the past eight
years. She hadn’t been able to afford to keep them, and unless she signed them
over to him, welfare would not help him.
Johan was a family man working for a
farmer. He had never before been so far from home and had taken a wrong route.
He had been on the road for fourteen days already and had covered about 1520 km (950 miles). Some of the drivers had charged him for his ride and, being quite poor,
he had to sacrifice two of his blankets. The advantage of the detour for him,
though, was that he had the privilege of seeing the beautiful Cape and the sea
for the first time.
As we covered the 26 km (16 miles) between my
work and home, I felt the urge to give him a place to stay for the night.
However, it became a battle of the mind. Being a South African, I heard about
race problems and crime all day long. Part of me didn’t like the thought of
having a stranger in my house overnight. Dusk was falling, but it was still
light enough for him to get a ride. Then Hebrews 13:2 crossed my mind: “Do not
forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained
angels without knowing it.”
We lived near the N2 Motorway, which
would have been the best place for Johan to get a ride, since the same road
passes right by Mosselbaai, his destination. I decided to give him both
opportunities. I dropped him off on the N2 with some money for food as well as
my telephone number and money for the public telephone. I told him to call if
it got dark before he got a ride. As I drove on, my thoughts about crime and
strangers still nagged at my mind, but I secretly hoped he would call. And he
did.
The time I spent with Johan was a
good time. The more we got to know him, the more we desired to bless him. At
first, he felt uncomfortable walking into our house and sitting in the lounge
because he lived in a clay house back on the farm and was treated most of his
life as a farmworker. He ate with us and took a long, hot bath before he went
to bed. I presume it was his first proper bath ever, because he had to carry
water over a long distance to his house and wash in a basin.
He had picked up a cough on his long
trip, so we gave him some cough syrup and vitamin C. The Lord knew Johan was
His child and that he had suffered hunger and hardship, so He prompted us to
meet Johan’s needs. We did not know then whether he was a Christian.
Johan’s
contribution, however, was much greater. We had a superb time during supper and
thereafter. He treated us with stories of his world, a world unfamiliar to
city-dwellers such as us. He told about his tame porcupines, his horses’
different temperaments, how they farm and that they eat certain parts of the
cotton plant. He told us about his vegetables, which he raises inside the outer
room of his house because it is too hot to grow a garden outside. We laughed at
his stories about how baboons sleep and steal honey and corn, and his tales
were all the more hilarious with his bushman-like illustrations and body
movements.
All the time we talked, he gave glory
to God. My first carnal thought was that he was trying to please us or that he
was a typical religious South African.
The next morning, we were both very
emotional when I dropped him off on the N2, as if in one night we had become
lifelong friends. At work, I had a hard time concentrating because I kept
re-living our previous night with Johan. I missed him and longed for his
company. The worst thing was that I had forgotten to get his address.
A few days later, the telephone rang.
The “angel” needed a place to stay again. With great joy we picked him up. He
had a prosperous trip to Mosselbaai, only to discover that his sister was now
living in another town.
This time he devoted his time to
Isak, our nine-year-old boy. I watched while he sketched the prettiest flowers
on a piece of paper, and all the time he was teaching Isak to draw pictures.
We were all tired and went to bed
early. As I walked past his closed door, I stood for a moment and listened
(maybe not so appropriate, but his prayer touched my heart). With utmost
compassion, he praised Father God for His care thus far and pleadingly trusted Him
to take care of him for the rest of his journey.
Why did I share this with you? Was it
so that you could think well of us? Is the right hand supposed to know what the
left hand is doing? Should we not do good works in secret so that our Father
can reward us (Matthew 6:1-4)? No, there is nothing good about me. I am much
too wretched.
That first night I couldn’t sleep
because I was worried that Johan would leave with some of our possessions
during the night. When he came the second time, I was tired and not in the mood
for another late night. You see, my carnal nature, the flesh, resisted my
spirit. My spirit, being renewed by God and occupied by the Holy Spirit, was
glad about this visitor, but my sinful nature resisted it. Galatians 5:17
agrees with this: “For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to
the Spirit, and Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in
conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want.” Paul proclaimed in Romans 7:18,
19: “I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For
I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do
is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on
doing.” Being good, for
most Christians, is a sacrifice. Usually, all the glory belongs to the
Lord.
That opportunity was significant in
my life. In years past, Julia and I had been hospitable and kind-hearted, but
gradually, materialism and the cares of life had caused us to become
self-centered—quite wretched, I must admit. After Johan came, we felt a strong
desire to be as close to Jesus as possible. I needed to serve and love again.
One of the more tangible ways to accomplish that was to start picking up
hitchhikers. I always used to do it, naturally with the wisdom and protection
of the Holy Spirit. It also used to create an opportunity to meet a new friend,
let my light shine, and share the gospel.
Through the years, however, I had
become always in a hurry, never had time to stop, and always found an excuse
such as the fear of crime. Therefore, I didn’t have that opportunity to let my light shine
anymore. Now I started once again to make a conscious decision to pick up
hitchhikers, and that is how I met Johan.
In the light
of our neglect of the Lord’s command on hospitality and my desire to revive,
hosting Johan was a major breakthrough. It was good for our spiritual lives and
was a great step toward our ideal of being like Jesus.
This kind of testimony should be
making the rounds all the time, because it encourages others to use
opportunities the Lord gives us in order for God’s Kingdom to prevail. How about you? What has the Holy Spirit used to change your life, and how has He used you to change the lives of others? Colossians 4:5: “Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most
of every opportunity.”
For children and adults who are prepared to learn in a childlike way. For more information see http://t-a-c.co.za.
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