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By Gavin Tyte
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"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Jesus Christ." [Philippians 4 Verses 6-7]
I spent the night in a backpackers hostel in the centre of Perth, and then after visiting some ancient relatives, I began hitchhiking north along coast. I had heard of a place called Monkey Mia where people could swim with dolphins. Monkey Mia derives its name from the Chinese Pearlers who were rather derogatorily called monkeys, and Mia, an Aboriginal word for home.
I was fortunate to hitch a ride the whole 300-miles with a man called Peter and his wife. The couple were from Switzerland and were touring Australia. Peter was originally born in England and spoke English but wife spoke none. The conversation soon petered out due to the long distance and travelling time. The scenery changed little and so I had ample opportunity to do some reading. I pulled out my pocket Bible and started to read. Peter noticed.
"What is that you’re reading?" he asked, glancing at the back seat through the rear view mirror.
"Oh, my Bible," I replied.
For some reason I always felt nervous of peoples’ response when they caught me reading the Bible. The portrayal of Christians in the media always seems to be as bumbling old vicars or religious fanatics and I didn’t want to be thought of as either. Peter didn’t respond straight away but when he did he told me some very disturbing things.
His conversation was confusing and he jumped from one topic to the next then back to a previous topic. He talked fast and with the voice of one deeply troubled - the way a child might talk when telling of another who bullied him. He told me he didn't trust his wife and even said that he thought she was a witch. He told me he felt possessed and as if everything was eating away at him. He continually asked me if he was making any sense and also assured me that his wife couldn't understand a word. He told me he'd been unfaithful although he didn’t trust her because he thought she'd been unfaithful. All the while she sat staring out of the window - perhaps she understood, perhaps she didn’t - I'll never know. Peter kept on talking. He talked nervously as if terrified, scared of her, and he would shiver every so often.
Peter was a man with deep emotional and spiritual problems and I was unequipped to deal with any of them. However, for some reason he had opened up to me, and it would have been wrong of me to say or do nothing. I uttered words of encouragement and listened, continually praying in my mind and asking the Lord to give me the right words to say. Before long we approached Monkey Mia and Peter asked in a desperate voice, “Will you pray for me?”
I agreed and decided it would be better to pray for him when we got to the destination rather than on the road. He wanted to stop the car and pray right there and then, but to be honest I was a little frightened and needed time to prepare. I stuck with the plan of praying at our destination.
The sun scorched down as we pulled up in a sandy car park. Peter and I left the car and walked over to the edge of the car park to pray. I felt pressured and was shaking. What should I pray? I went by what I thought I should pray and by what I'd heard others say when praying. I prayed in my mind that God would give me strength and then I brought his problems before the Lord asking Jesus to minister to the situation. The prayer was short and I fumbled many of the words. Afterwards, Peter thanked me but I felt as if the situation remained unresolved. I felt almost queasy with worry.
All three of us walked to the beach. Peter's wife spoke very little. I left them alone to see the dolphins and I turned to see her talking sternly to him, pushing him away. She walked away from him and he followed her. I still felt a deep dread in my heart. My rucksack was in their car and this meant that I would have to disturb them again. I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do but pray. After an hour or so of watching dolphins, wandering the beach, and watching a film in the visitor centre I found Peter sitting on the sand alone.
“You'd better get your rucksack out of the car,” he said.
I knew by the tone of his voice that I’d better leave them both alone and that the situation was unresolved. He sounded deeply troubled and worried. We retrieved my backpack and then we said goodbye. I decided I didn't want to spend any more time in Monkey Mia and started to hitch south back to Perth.
For a long period afterwards I had a tremendous burden for Peter and he was on my mind and heart. For weeks afterwards I prayed for him every night. No doubt one day the Lord will show me why.
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