I am an
energetic, young, visionary minister of the gospel, having just finished my
training and being appointed to my first pastoral assignment. I am running
late, having had car trouble. So, I step into the phone booth, take out the
little note book and nervously dial the number. A heavy German accent on the
other side of the line says, “Hello, who is speaking?” My stomach turns as I
respond: “Good afternoon, it is Reverend Romeo Pedro speaking. I am just
phoning to say that I am running a bit late!” “Very typical of you people,” she
says. To my greatest shock, she says: “Why are you coming? Have you not heard
that we do not want a minister who is not white?”
I say: “Good
Bye ma’am” and put the phone back on the receiver. I stand still for a moment –
for what feels like a very long time.
Then someone
taps on the door of the phone booth. “What’s wrong? You look pale.” It is my
dad. I open the door and relate the story to my parents. They both look at me
as if they are not surprised. You see – they grew up and lived under the brutal
Apartheid regime. They look like they have expected this type of reaction.
Then this
wise African woman, that I call mom, says: “Son, if you keep your nose to the
stone, soon it will be just you, your nose and that stone. You cannot allow
this distraction to consume you. Keep your eyes on the greater goal.” As she
hugs me, I feel her tears on my shoulder.
What is the
greater goal? Then I remember why I am here: I want to share the love of Jesus
with God’s people, irrespective of who they are. And yes, I want to share His
love even with that heavy German accent on the other side of the telephone
line.
Dad puts his
hand on my shoulder and says: “Come son, it’s getting late. We’ve got to get
you there.”
We get into
the car. And as we drive westward, I watch the sun set and say to myself. As
sure as the sun sets it will rise again tomorrow. And I am reminded of the old
African proverb: “No matter how long the night, the day is sure to come.” It’ll
be ok. Emmanuel is with me.
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