A ride I will never forget

Several weeks ago I flew into Dar after a visit to Mafia Island. Landing at about 2 PM, I was pretty sure that I would be home in no time. I grabbed a taxi and off we went. Little did I realize that the Prime Minister was also out and about.

As in most African countries, the P.M. receives very preferential treatment- the roads are lined with police officers and all other vehicles are forced off the road until his convoy passes. No big deal. Normally.

This time, however, it was a different story. His route through the city included every major artery and intersection that I needed to get home- with multiple stops in between. To say that traffic was horrendous would be an understatement. We literally sat for a full hour not moving more than 20 feet. It was mind-numbing.

As the hours came and went with no destination in sight at least one person was totally unfazed: the taxi driver. He rambled on and on about life in Dar, different roads, famous clients, his home part of Tanzania, family, etc.. Being quite exhausted (see the pic on my FB profile shot the day before), I just nodded my head: "uh huh....uh huh".

With more vitality than the Dar Es Salaam Energizer Bunny he continued talking non-stop for hours. I was almost in a comatose state from the heat, humidity, car fumes, honking horns, and the din of my driver's voice (this state is technically referred to as post-traumatic traffic jam syndrome in case you are wondering) when out of nowhere he started telling me about a child-hood experience:

In 1985 he lived in a small Islamic village in NorthEastern Tanzania. One day a team from America came. He was 15 years old. They showed films, sang songs, and preached about Jesus. The most striking memory for him was the prayer time following the message. Many sick and demon-possesed people were healed before his eyes. He told me that many gave their lives to Christ during those meetings. It was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. As he was sharing the Presence of God filled the car.

I stopped him. " Did you give your life to Christ then? " I asked almost sure of the answer.

"No" he said very sadly, his answer somewhat surprising me.

"For 25 years, I have regretted that I didn't make that decision."

"My life has been alcohol and cigarettes ever since- in fact I'm an alcoholic".

I was speechless.

Finally, I opened my mouth to share about a God who makes up for lost time.

At about 6.45 PM we finally reached home. Near my front door, 25 years of regret and remorse over missed opportunities vanished as my new friend surrendered his life to Jesus. It was beautiful.

I just saw him again today. The smile on his face told it all.