By Vladimir Borisov
After attending a pastors conference in another country, friends asked me to take a box of 100 religious books back home. I wanted to help, but my country strictly controls the distribution of religious literature.
“I’ll take the box of books only if the bus driver agrees to assume responsibility for it”, I told my friends.
Bus drivers often agree to carry extra cargo in exchange for a cash payment, and my bus driver agreed to help for U.S.$100. A friend and I boarded the bus and settled in for the long ride.
Arriving at the border at night, the driver approached me for information about the box. He wanted to know how to speak with the border guards. When I told him that the box contained Christian books, he pulled the $100 bill from his pocket and handed it back to me. “It’s easier for me to smuggle cocaine than Christian books across the border”, he said.
My friend and I had no choice. We knelt beside the bus and repacked the books into our suitcases. Then we prayed as we joined the line of passengers at the border crossing. The person ahead of us put his bags on the scanner belt and walked through customs. Then we put our suitcases on the belt.
The border guard pressed the button to start the belt, but it didn’t move. He pushed the button again. He pounded the button and swore. Still, the belt didn’t move.
The border guard looked at us. “Fine, go”, he said, motioning for us to take our suitcases from the belt.
Minutes later, my friend and I walked to the second border post to enter my home country. We put our suitcases on the belt, and the guard pressed the button. Nothing happened. He began to swear, and he finally turned to us. “Just go”, he said.
Only after crossing the border did we dare look back. The guard had stopped next person and was inspecting her bags manually. We thanked God as sank into our bus seats.
On Sabbath, a church member had a strange story at church. A voice had awakened her at night, saying, “Pray for your pastor.” She hadn’t known that I was traveling and thought that I was at home asleep. The voice came again, “Pray for your pastor.” Finally, she knelt and prayed for an hour.
I asked when she had heard the voice. It was the exact hour that my friend and I had crossed the border.
Although I cannot name my country, please pray for God’s work. Thank you for giving mission offerings to bring the message of salvation to many around the world.
Produced by the General Conference Office of Adventist Mission.
Find more mission stories at adventistmission[dot]org