"Are you a VIP?" she asked. "An ambassador?" I laughed, "No, not at all! Are you?" "I'm the assistant secretary-general for support operations." I was at a loss, flabbergasted. I'd watched as she came to sit on the bench next to me as I waited to board a World Food Programme flight. She wore a khaki-coloured collar-shirt under a grey suit. Her ID badge with the UN-logo hung on a lanyard around her neck. She was the real deal! We chatted amicably for a few minutes until the ground-staff led her away with great respect to a fast-tracked check-in for VIPs. Turns out, she knew my organisation, well. "You made a good decision joining them," she told me. "They do God's work and they do it with excellence." If it was loadshedding, I think the airport could've easily been lit by the joy beaming out of me right then.
I was on my way to Juba, South Sudan, for the first time. Despite a calm demeanor, underneath I was a jumble of nervous energy. The pandemic didn't help much either... Three days of travelling, quarantine hotels, mask-wearing, and oh the sanitizing. So much sanitizing! I had to get a Covid19-test before I left, but because I'd been in transit, when I arrived it was already 5 days old. I was first in line as we disembarked at Juba International Airport. A man in a white coat greeted me sternly and asked for my Covid-certificate. "72 hours maximum," he grunted angrily, "you're going back!" My heart sank. I'd come all this way, and here I found the door slammed shut in my face. I didn't fight it. I just prayed: "Lord, help!" I turned gingerly to the gentleman in the white coat: "Sir, I've been travelling since Tuesday; I was unable to get another test." "Where'd you come from?" he replied disgruntled. "Cape Town, South Africa." "Okay, you can go to passport control. But I'm coming to fetch you; you're going back!" I hurried off, somewhat relieved, to customs...
The rest of the immigration process went quite alright, except that I was checking over my shoulder anxiously for the man in the white coat to come and chase me back out onto the tarmac and into the plane. He never did. I'm sure he wanted to, but I bet he had enough on his plate. Instead, I was warmly met by a driver from my organisation who brought me to the base where I'm quarantining for 14 days. In between orientation and online training, a thought pops up every now and then: "God, bless the angry man in the white coat. I really hope he's less angry today."
I'm not an ambassador. I don't hold any office of repute. I don't even have an ID card on a lanyard (yet). I'm no person of consequence. Maybe you are, maybe you aren't. But God, the True King of this world, is not a respecter of persons. And if He's for us, who can be against us? That doesn't mean that every door we want opened will be flung wide, necessarily. The Good Shepherd knows where His sheep should not be led. More often than not, even the delays are in His hand. But then, when He sends us to bring the Good News of His Kingdom, no weapon formed against us will prevail. We are ambassadors of Christ and His ministry of reconciliation. "We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ's behalf: Be reconciled to God." - 2 Corinthians 5:20 (NIVUK).
Walk with the King... He is with you!

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Ons tap in U spoor!
What a lovely story and isn't God good!! Beautifully written Chris - looking forward to hearing more from you!
Wow, an amazing testimony already, and it's only day 1...!!!