I returned to a place where I had been challenged by God to enter the ministry. It is a Christian drug and alcohol rehabilitation centre called “Shekinah,” about half an hour drive outside Pietermaritzburg. The place was unusually green from what I can remember. The weather has been good to it. It is a typical red brick farm house dating back a good century or so. It’s steep walled verandah circumnavigates the high ceiling rooms and old ceramic baths. Beneath are some ad-hoc flowers trying to grow in a garden that depends on how well the guests (patients) are participating in the programme. It is run by a man who believes in the impossible. In this place you have to believe in the impossible. How can the habits of a fifty year old alcoholic be changed? How can the grip of heroine be broken from a young mother who has lost everything? But, it is the impossible that God thrives in. It was in this place that I found the God that met the least of human life. And it is was to the least that God meant the most. Walking around the property, looking over the river where I had once baptized young converts I was flooded with memories of those who had crossed my path before. Those who I had met some seventeen years again. It was good to return. I had been invited to share a word or two, a meditation, a prayer, a story of hope for those who would listen. It confirmed the journey I chose sometime back when I knew the hope the God-man can give to those who are thirsty for answers.
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