The following is a true story:
It was a Thursday in late July and the Jamaica Team, a missionary group, and I were waiting for our delayed flight to Montego Bay, from Charlotte, N.C. I was still getting to know everyone on the team.
I walked to the Starbucks down the hall and bought a medium cappuccino and a cheese danish and started back toward the group, eating and walking, still on a natural high from my first airplane ride. By the time I reached the group small cliques had already formed.
A group of four had congregated on the floor and sat, crouched like vultures on a carcass, playing an intense game of Rook. I began a conversation with some of the people my own age and was having a good time.
I turned to get something from my carry-on and, having forgotten about the cup at my side, spilled the cappuccino, completely drenching my backside.
Now, I was wet, warm, brown and embarrassed. However in the air conditioning, I quickly became wet, cold, brown and uncomfortable.
It was time to board and we stood in line waiting to get on the plane again. I stepped up and handed the lady my ticket.
What I hadn’t noticed was that my boarding pass was not with the ticket. I searched everywhere for it and could not find it anywhere.
Luckily, I had the receipt from the travel agency to prove that I had at one time had a ticket. Thank God they let me board anyway.
However, since I had lost my tickets it was a one-way flight to a third world country!
After these two incidents and several others, this was not a good week for me.
I became the butt of many jokes. I was thought of as clumsy, forgetful and irresponsible. They ribbed me constantly.
One night I went to walk on the beach to think about the situation. I slipped through the hole in the crude fence that led to the shore and, leaving my sandals there, walked and prayed.
The beach was beauty incarnate. The shore was bathed in moonlight and the saltwater spilled onto the land from the angry, billowing waves.
Coming to no conclusion, I retrieved my sandals and started back to the villa.
Then I had an epiphany. God brought to my memory Isaiah 53:3, “He was despised and rejected – and man of sorrows, acquainted with the bitterest grief .”
Someone understood. Someone knew. Jesus Christ had suffered humiliation and even death. This made me realize that all of this was a test of my faith and perseverance.
Sometimes God allows us to go through small trials so that we will be strong enough to endure the big hardships that will come.

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