BY NANCY COSTA

NE TIME IN MY LIFE STANDS OUT IN my mind like no other. Only one phrase describes it: "It was the worst of times, it was the best of times."

My husband and I had just entered the ministry. In our early 20s and newly arrived in the United States from Argentina, we were new not only to the ministry, but also to the country and the people to whom we would be ministering. Although the members of our congregation spoke our language--Spanish--their accent and their customs were as difficult to understand as those of their English-speaking counterparts. To top it off, we were on a stipend salary, with only a couple suitcases to our name.

Our Questions, God's Answers
Not a week went by that I didn't question our decision to remain in the United States. We had felt God's hand leading us. My husband, Robert, had undergone minor surgery on his leg in South America, and what had promised to be an overnight hospital stay had turned into months of hospitalization. After his release, his leg was worse than before, except that now he was in constant pain. Once athletic and active, now Robert had no mobility in his foot, which was sensitive to the slightest touch.

A doctor in the United States had hinted he might be able to help, but we didn't have the funds to get here. Then, miraculously, a doctor from France we didn't even know sent us the money. Before we knew it, Robert was in the United States undergoing corrective surgery. This was followed by lengthy physical therapy. That's when the call came to stay in the U.S.

We prayed about it. We had jobs waiting at home. Robert had been called as boys' dean and Bible teacher in River Plate College, and I to work in the administration office. But God's answer seemed to be "Stay"; God had work for us in this country. Robert had no doubts. It had always been his dream to live in the United States, and he felt God had opened the way. I, on the other hand, missed my family, my friends, and my way of life.

One Friday evening we were driving to visit a family with whom we had been studying the Bible. I wasn't feeling well, and I asked Robert to drop me off at the church, which was nearby. I would rest there and wait for him. I sat alone in the church for what seemed like hours. Alone with God and my thoughts, I told Him everything I was feeling. We had no money, no furniture, no family, no friends--not even a piano. I had grown up with music.

Right now in my parents' home, I thought, they are probably welcoming the Sabbath. How I missed those Friday evenings! Almost always we would sing around the piano before supper.

A tiny seed of rebellion had been growing in my heart, and now I lashed out at God. We were barely making ends meet. Our only car had broken down during the week, and we had to walk three miles along a dark highway to get home. We managed to pay for the repairs, but now we had no money until the end of the month--almost two weeks away.

"Lord," I said, "if I only had the assurance that You've led us here, that You wanted us to stay, I wouldn't mind the rest." I longed to hear God's voice, to hear from His very lips that we were meant to be here. I looked at the Bible next to me on the bench and thought how I would love to read something written just for me. I didn't want standard promises about God leading and directing our paths I wanted something personal.

I snatched up the Bible and said, "Lord, I need something personal!" I knew all the promises in the Bible, and I didn't feel any of them could speak to my need or give me the reassurance I needed that moment. I flipped it open defiantly, and my eyes fell on Psalm 45:10: "Listen, O daughter, consider and give ear: Forget your people and your father's house" (NIV).

I sat in stunned silence; I felt God had spoken to me. He had not only spoken but had called me "daughter." Later--much later--when I searched for the text (it took me a while to find it again), I read the verses before and after, and they made no sense to me at all. God had guided me to the very text in the Bible I needed.

After that, nothing mattered; not the hardships, not the difficulties, not the trials. We were where God wanted us to be. We were still poor. We still had no furniture, no family, and no piano. But that was OK.

Did I Just Pray for That?
Well, let me rephrase that. It was OK until I heard that a local radio station was going to give away a brand-new Baldwin piano. All I needed to do, they said, was send in a 3 x 5 card with my name and address on it. There would be a Christmas drawing, and there was a chance my name might be chosen.

I had never been exposed to a sweepstakes before and was a total innocent. I thought I had a shot at it, and confidently sent in my card. By this time I had found work as receptionist in a car dealership, and when I mentioned it to my coworkers, they smiled and set me straight about sweepstakes. I became anxious then. I wanted that piano like I'd never wanted anything in my life. It represented everything Robert and I didn't have. All the hardships we'd endured, all the trials and difficulties congealed in that one prize. I thought, If only I could have that piano, Lord; please, make it happen.

I made it a subject of prayer every day. I argued with God about the merits of my getting it over someone else who might not use it for His glory. "As a pastor's wife I need one, Lord!" I said. I knew that otherwise we wouldn't be able to afford a piano for years.

One night as I was praying--begging is a better word--the thought came to me. How was I planning to return tithe on such a valuable gift? I'd totally forgotten about that. The value of the piano was $4,000. In the eighties that was a lot of money. For us, $400 might just as well have been $40,000. And there was our second tithe. We had pledged an additional 10 percent to God for several reasons. There were so many needs in the church we felt compelled to go the extra mile. Eight hundred dollars was out of the question. We wouldn't be able to do it.

My prayers changed. I no longer begged God. Instead, I told Him that if He wanted us to have that piano, He would have to provide the funds for the tithe. I felt peace then; the peace that had eluded me when I'd begged and pleaded. I still prayed about it every night, but I now left it in His hands, whatever the outcome.

An Unexpected Answer
The day of the drawing, I took a small radio to work (I had to hear my name being called in order to win). My coworkers smiled indulgently and reminded me they'd been entering sweepstakes for years and had never won anything. Nevertheless, I was confident that God would perform a miracle.

As it turned out, many prizes were being given out that day, including a satellite dish, an electronic keyboard, and other small items. The odds that my name would be drawn were slim, less so for the grand prize--the piano. Every time a name was called, I'd hold my breath until I knew it wasn't my name.

Finally, around noon, the deejay announced that the mayor of the city had arrived to draw the name for the grand prize. There was a pause, and then he read a name. It wasn't mine. I sat there totally deflated. I'd been so sure. Then I felt ashamed. What right had I had to ask God for such a gift? Weren't there more pressing needs in the world? There were hungry children in Somalia, wars, disease--and here I was, asking for a piano! What presumption!

"Lord, forgive me," I said. "Forgive my presumption."

I reached over to turn off the radio, and stopped. "The winner has failed to call in," said the announcer, "so we'll draw another name." After a brief pause he said, "The person who lives in 420D North Main is our new winner."

That's my address! I thought. Could someone else possibly have the same address? "Nancy Costa, you have five minutes to call the radio station," he continued.

I had written the number down, but I was having difficulty dialing it. My hand shook so much I couldn't make my finger land on the right numbers. After what seemed an eternity--in reality, just a few seconds--I finally got through and was able to confirm that I had won.

A few days later a brand-new piano arrived at our tiny apartment. Now, besides the rented couch and mattress, we had a shiny new piano! Everyone was amazed; my coworkers, our church family, our family overseas. And I was filled with an overwhelming sense of awe and gratitude for what God had done.

One More Thing, Lord
There was still that small matter of tithe. "Lord, remember the condition," I told Him a few nights later. "I still don't have money for Your tithe."

The next morning the owner of the dealership called me into his office. He and his wife were an older couple, and every year each employee got a frozen turkey as a Christmas bonus. I had no idea what I was going to do with mine--maybe give it to one of the needy families in our community.

When I entered Mr. Clark's office, his wife was there, and they both looked quite pleased. They congratulated me on my prize, and asked whether it had actually been delivered (they probably thought I might have fallen for a hoax). When I confirmed that it had, they told me they wanted to do something for me. They figured I would probably owe taxes on it, and they wanted to help me. They gave me a check for $450--enough to return tithe on the piano and their gift, and have $5 to spare!

I was ecstatic. Still, I boldly told the Lord, "You still have to find me the funds for the second tithe." And He did. Starting that January, I received a pay raise of $50 per month, which I used to pay off my pledge of the second tithe.

Lessons Learned
I learned some important lessons through these experiences. I learned that God is a personal God; that my prayers are not taken in the context of the whole world's needs. Each prayer is received and answered as if it were the only prayer, the only need.

I learned that God not only gives us what we need, He also gives us the "desires of our heart."

I learned that God is merciful. Despite our imperfections, despite our misguidedness and our lack of understanding, He is patient--even indulgent--with His children. And that piano has provided me with so many opportunities to testify about what God has done for me.

I've never felt impressed to pray for sweepstakes again. I've wanted to from time to time (who doesn't want a million dollars?), but I never felt right about it. I believe the Holy Spirit impressed me to pray for that specific gift to teach me about God and His mercy, and to be able to share with others what God has done for me.

More than 20 years have passed, but whenever I face a valley of trial,
I still draw encouragement from that mountaintop experience. Yes, it was the worst of times, but it was also the best of times. God can best show us His glory in our darkest hour.

_________________________
Nancy Costa is an administrative assistant at It Is Written, where her husband, Robert, is Hispanic ministries coordinator.