I got it wrong.

I was preaching on Sunday morning and, as often happens, I departed from my notes with a recollection from the past which turned out to be almost 100% accurate.

No-one would have realised, other than my lovely wife, of course. I’d recounted an experience we had while travelling around the South Pacific. I thought we had been on a Fijian island but, as Val reminded me later, it was actually an island that is part of Vanuatu.

The island in question is called, amazingly, Espiritu Santo. In other words, “Holy Spirit Island”.

Val and I have had the huge privilege of travelling widely during our 40 plus years of marriage and ministry. I’ve preached in churches all over the world, including many places in the U.S.A. and Australia. We’ve been to Australia more times than I can remember, certainly in excess of 15. Val’s middle son, Steve, lives on the Sunshine Coast, north of Brisbane. The Sunshine Coast is the Gold Coast’s more discrete cousin.

Whereas the Gold Coast is essentially “Las Vegas by the Ocean”, the Sunshine Coast Council decided early on to keep their corner of this beautiful country more select. Apartment blocks are limited to just four storeys (or at least they used to be) and the whole feel of the place is very different to its brash cousin further south.

Visiting so frequently, we developed our own friendships, and that included a relationship with three different churches on the Redcliffe Peninsula, close to Brisbane: Margate Baptist, Clontarf Baptist and Deception Bay Baptist.

The relationship deepened immeasurably during the period of my unexpected illness while in the country in 2013. Clontarf Baptist Church came to our rescue in exceptional ways. I was in the country alone, undertaking some sabbatical research and study, when I fell ill while parking the car in an underground car park. That was the rather dramatic beginning of a period of exceptional kindness and Christian hospitality. Val was called, and travelled as soon as she could. Emirates Airlines met her on the flight from Dubai, and put her in a taxi to the hospital. I was too ill to be seen, so Val was stuck in the city centre with no idea what do next. Inexplicably, Val had an Australian mobile number written on her hand. To this day she cannot remember how it came to be there. Another angelic incident probably… and we’ve had plenty of those. Needless to say, Val called the number.

Pastor Lester Kelly (Senior Pastor at Clontarf BC) answered the call and though he was surprised to hear her voice, he knew who Val was. Lester pulled together an extraordinary package of help. The afternoon of her arrival in the country, following a 28 hour journey, Val was living in a beach-front apartment on Drummond Road. The property was owned by a lovely retired missionary couple, Jean & Arthur Charles. It was an old “Queenslander” style home. As has become common practice, Jean and Arthur had converted the space under their “home on stilts” to make an independent ground floor apartment with everything you could wish for. The church also provided a car, and unlimited access to their food-bank. As I say, the hospitality was extraordinary.

When, after a month in hospital, I was finally released, it became apparent that I would be in no fit state to fly home for several months. My oxygen saturation levels were too low to countenance a flight of any kind, let alone a marathon journey from Australia to the U.K. Special visas had to be sought, as we would outstay our three-month tourist visas.

The big question was whether I would be well enough to go through with the Pacific Cruise we had arranged to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary. The medics weren’t giving any guarantees, and it was only a week before the departure date that they finally conceded that I should be alright for the short-hop flight from Brisbane to Sydney to pick up the P&O ship that was to take us out into the South Pacific.

That’s how we came to visit the lovely unspoilt island of Espiritu Santo. The ship was too large to dock directly on the island, so guests were ferried to and fro using a tender. On arrival at the beach, there were a few brightly coloured stalls featuring local hand-made products. One stall-holder, Miriam Jonas, was especially welcoming. We got talking about the fantastic morning, and Val thanked God out loud for the beauty all around us. This prompted Miriam to suggest that her nephew, Jacob, might be willing to take us on an impromptu trip around the island. Jake was standing a few metres away leaning up against a rather rickety old Nissan, of which he was evidently proud!

It wasn’t long before we were inside, and embarking on what was to be a really rather wonderful day, full of Holy Spirit surprises. We knew something was afoot, when Jake’s very powerful sound system thudded out some amazing, and very recent, worship music! A strained conversation ensued, during which Jake asked me over the music what I did for a living. As soon as he heard that I was a British pastor, he suddenly threw the car into an abrupt u-turn. We were on a dirt road. It felt like a scene from Starsky and Hutch! I have GOT to take you to meet my uncle, Jake said.

That unlikely beginning led us to an encounter with Pastor Elvis in his mud-hut home deep in the rainforest. With every kilometre that flew by, the humidity increased as did the temperature. It felt as if we were in a sauna.

Eventually we arrived in a mud-hut village. Jake screeched the Nissan to a dusty halt, and we clambered out not at all sure what was about to happen next. We trailed behind Jake to one particular hut, and followed the lad right in. Jake turned to me and said: “Pastor Nigel, meet Pastor Elvis. Uncle Elvis, meet Pastor Nigel from England”.

This visit really was surreal. We sat cross-legged on a nylon mat on the dirt floor. Elvis was a delightful man, conspiculously full of the Holy Spirit of Almighty God. He oozed Jesus. You know, some people just do, and he was one of them.

Elvis picked up his six-string and asked me: “do you play, brother?” I sort of mumbled that I could have a go. “Lead us to worship Jesus” he said. Rather like Val trying to work out exactly what she should wear to an event where she wasn’t entirely sure of the dress code, I found myself in a dilemma. Here we were, deep in the mangroves, in a mud-hut, with a rural pastor, thousands of miles from what I (in my undoubted arrogance) considered to be “civilisation”… what on earth should I play? I settled on possibly the most best-known and well-loved hymn of all time, Stuart Hine’s “How Great Thou Art”. Elvis joined in heartily, so I thought all was well. When I was done, with no small measure of relief, I handed the guitar back to Elvis. Whereupon he promptly led Val and I in an upbeat set of the latest worship songs from Hillsongs!

We had a rich time with Pastor Elvis, during which he did us far more good than I’m sure we did him. While we were worshipping, Pastor Elvis’s daughters had been collecting exotic fruits fresh from the trees, and had arranged a beautiful platter of juicy goodies for us to enjoy. The fruit was so sweet it made your cheeks ache. I’m sure you know that sort of experience.

After lunch, Pastor Elvis was keen to show us his partially complete church building. It was unusual in that it was actually brick-built. We were amazed to see the foundation stone with the date of our wedding anniversary carved in. It was as if the Holy Spirit had pre-arranged our visit, and God himself was chuckling. As we entered the shell of this emerging church building, I was deeply humbled when Pastor Elvis asked me to pray God’s blessing on the church.

After our visit to the new building, we were whisked back to Pastor Elvis’s home to discover his sister was in the yard outside the hut. Evelyn was suffering from severe epilepsy and was disabled too. Once again, Pastor Elvis asked Val and I to pray. We laid our hands on this dear lady, and asked Jesus, the gentle healer, to do what only He can do.

Time was moving on, and we were conscious that the cruise liner had a strict departure time. We had been warned, along with all the guests, that should be late then they would hesitate to leave without us, and any “abandoned” guests would face having to make arrangements for their onward journey at their own expense. This was quite a terrifying thought. Jake, however, was not in the least bit concerned. For him, it was just a matter of pressing his foot to the pedal a little harder…

That journey back to Champagne Bay and the waiting tenders, certainly improved our prayer life. True to his word, young Jake delivered us back with minutes to spare. Needless to say, other cruise guests with whom we had begun to develop a passing relationship, were curious to know what it was that we’d been doing all day.

1 Peter 3 v15 comes to mind. There were plenty that evening who had questions for us, and it was our delight to tell them about the amazing day we’d shared.

Our God is a God of surprises. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t ever shut down on the myriad ways that God might just surprise YOU. Reading this, you may be tempted to think “wow” and convince yourself that this sort of thing only happens to people like Nigel & Val. I reject that absolutely. God is nearer than you think, and the Holy Spirit is poised to help you meet the opportunities He presents to you. Be bold! Jesus promises always to give us the words to say, just when we need them (not in advance, that’s why we need to open our mouths in faith). Re-read Matthew 10 v18-20, and you’ll see.

At the time of writing this blog, Val and I are just embarking on a four week trip around the Republic of Ireland. Our hearts are full of wonder at all Jesus has been doing in our church, and in our lives personally. When we return home, we plan to edit this blog post and insert photos that illustrate the incredible experience we had thousands of miles away in a culture very different to our own.

Be blessed.