Welcome to Pamoja Ministry. There are moments
in life when you have time to think, time to
pray, time to seek counsel, time to examine your
options and decide what your next move should
be. But there are also moments when life does
not give you that privilege because suddenly
you find yourself standing in a situation you
did not anticipate, surrounded by circumstances
you cannot control, facing something stronger
than you. and realizing that whatever is about
to happen next is beyond your ability to stop.
It is in those moments that we discover something
extraordinary about God. There is a dimension
of his relationship with his children that cannot
always be explained by preparation, wisdom, strategy,
influence, connections, resources, or human strength.
There are moments when God simply intervenes.
He steps into something that was already happening.
He interrupts something that was already moving.
He changes something that appeared already decided.
He stops what was coming towards you. He opens
what had been closed. He closes what had been
open against you. He moves what you could not
move. And sometimes, when everything is over
and you look back at what happened, you cannot
fully explain how you survived it, how the door
opened. how the danger passed, how the decision
changed, how the people who were coming against
you suddenly changed direction, or how something
that appeared inevitable somehow never happened.
You only know God intervened. And perhaps one
of the most extraordinary pictures of this mystery
is hidden inside a battlefield in 2 Chronicles
chapter 18. Two kings went to war. Ahab. king
of Israel, and Jehoshaphat, king of Judah. But
before the battle began, something unusual happened.
Ahab decided to disguise himself. He told Jehoshaphat,
in essence, I will disguise myself when we go
into battle, but you wear your royal robes. And
Jehoshaphat did. What Jehoshaphat apparently
did not know was that the king of Syria had already
given a very specific command. to the commanders
of his chariots. Second Chronicles, 1830 says,
Now the king of Syria had commanded the captains
of the chariots that were with him, saying, Fight
ye not with small or great, save only with the
king of Israel. Think about what that means.
These soldiers were not entering the battlefield
simply looking for anyone to kill. They had a
target. They were looking for a king. And on
that battlefield, one man looked like a king,
Jehoshaphat. Ahab had removed the appearance
of royalty, Jehoshaphat had not. And so the Bible
says that when the commanders saw Jehoshaphat,
they said, it is the king of Israel, and they
surrounded him. I want us to remain there for
a moment, because sometimes we read scripture
too quickly and miss the terror inside a sentence.
They surrounded him. These were trained warriors.
They were operating under orders. They believed
they had found the man they had been sent to
kill. And now they were closing in on Jehoshaphat.
There was no committee meeting. There was no
opportunity to develop another battle plan. There
was no time to send a messenger back to Jerusalem.
There was no time to call his advisors. There
was no time to explain that they had mistaken
him for someone else. The enemy was already there.
The danger was no longer approaching from a distance.
It had arrived. And scripture tells us what Jehoshaphat
did. Second Chronicles 1831 says, And it came
to pass, when the captains of the chariots saw
Jehoshaphat, that they said, It is the king of
Israel. Therefore they compassed about him to
fight. But Jehoshaphat cried out. Jehoshaphat
cried out. That is all scripture tells us. We
are not given the words. We don't know how long
the prayer was. We don't know whether Jehoshaphat
formed a complete sentence. We don't know whether
he quoted scripture. We don't know whether he
made a declaration of faith. We don't know whether
he shouted, Lord, help me. We don't even know
whether the cry came from confidence or from
fear. The Bible simply says, Jehoshaphat cried
out. And I find something deeply comforting about
that. Because sometimes we have made prayer so
complicated that we have forgotten that God is
also a father. Sometimes we imagine that before
God can respond, we must find the right words,
create the right atmosphere, assume the right
posture, quote the right scripture, and pray
long enough to convince heaven that our situation
deserves attention. But what happens when there
is no time? What happens when the car is coming?
What happens when the doctor speaks the words
you were never prepared to hear? What happens
when the phone rings in the middle of the night?
What happens when danger appears without warning?
What happens when your strength disappears? What
happens when fear overwhelms your vocabulary
and everything you have ever learned about prayer
suddenly becomes one desperate cry? What happens
when all you can say is, Jesus? Jehoshaphat cried
out. And heaven understood the cry, because sometimes
God does not need your eloquence to recognize
your dependence. Sometimes the cry itself says
everything. The cry says, I cannot save myself.
The cry says, I need help. The cry says, I know
where my help comes from. The cry says, there
is someone greater than what is surrounding me.
And perhaps Jehoshaphat's cry was not the cry
of a fearless man. Perhaps it was precisely the
opposite. Perhaps he was terrified. Perhaps he
saw those chariots closing around him and realized
in one terrifying moment that he might die on
that battlefield. But fear did something important.
Fear revealed where his heart instinctively turned.
Because when Jehoshaphat discovered that human
strength could no longer save him, Something
inside him still knew where to call. And this
is where the story becomes extraordinary. The
verse does not end by saying, Jehoshaphat cried
out and he fought his way through. It does not
say, Jehoshaphat cried out and his soldiers arrived.
It does not say, Jehoshaphat cried out and he
found an escape route. It says, Jehoshaphat cried
out, and the Lord helped him, and God moved them
to depart from him. Listen carefully to those
words, the Lord helped him, and then God moved
them. Something happened on that battlefield
that Jehoshaphat himself could not produce. The
men who were surrounding him moved away. The
men who had identified him as their target changed
direction. The men who had approached him with
the intention of killing him. departed. Jehoshaphat
did not move them. His army did not move them.
His position did not move them. His royal authority
did not move them. His military experience did
not move them. God moved them. And that introduces
us to the mystery we are going to explore throughout
this journey. The mystery of divine intervention.
Because there are things you can move. And there
are things only God can move. There are doors
you can open. And there are doors only God can
open. There are battles you can fight. And there
are battles where God will tell you, this battle
is not yours. There are circumstances where wisdom
will show you what to do. And there are circumstances
where you will have to confess like Jehoshaphat
would later confess in another crisis. We do
not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you.
There comes a place where human ability ends.
But listen to me carefully. The end of your ability
is not the end of God's ability. The fact that
you cannot see away does not mean there is no
way. The fact that you cannot move what is standing
before you does not mean It cannot be moved.
The fact that you cannot change someone's mind
does not mean God cannot touch their heart. The
fact that you cannot explain how deliverance
could possibly happen does not mean heaven has
exhausted its possibilities. Jehoshaphat could
not see an exit. So God did something better.
God moved what was surrounding him. And perhaps
somebody listening to this conversation knows
exactly what it feels like to be surrounded,
not necessarily by soldiers. Maybe you are surrounded
by circumstances, surrounded by accusations,
surrounded by financial pressure, surrounded
by uncertainty, surrounded by decisions being
made beyond your control, surrounded by doors
that appear closed, surrounded by people whose
intentions you cannot change. surrounded by something
that has brought you to the uncomfortable realization.
I don't know what to do anymore. Then perhaps
Jehoshaphat's story has arrived at the right
moment. Because scripture does not tell us that
Jehoshaphat knew what God was going to do. It
tells us that he knew who to cry to. And there
is an enormous difference. Faith does not always
mean knowing how God will deliver you. Sometimes
faith is simply knowing who your deliverer is,
and that brings us to something even deeper.
Because centuries before you and I would read
Jehoshaphat's story, scripture would reveal a
promise that sounds remarkably similar to what
happened on that battlefield. Psalm 91 declares,
because he hath set his love upon me, therefore
will I deliver him. I will set him on high. because
he hath known my name. And then God says, he
shall call upon me and I will answer him. He
shall call. I will answer. He shall call upon
me and I will answer him. I will be with him
in trouble. I will deliver him and honor him.
Notice what God does not say. He does not say
because he knows my name. Trouble will never
come. He says, I will be with him in trouble.
That changes everything. Because the presence
of trouble does not mean the absence of God.
Being surrounded does not mean you have been
abandoned. Being inside the furnace does not
mean God has forgotten you. Standing before the
Red Sea does not mean the promise has failed.
Finding yourself inside a prison does not mean
heaven has lost your address. Sometimes you can
be exactly where you never wanted to be and still
be exactly where God knows you are. Jehoshaphat
was surrounded, but he was not alone. And when
he cried, God heard him. When God heard him,
God helped him. And when God helped him, God
moved them. That is where our journey begins.
Because throughout scripture, we are going to
discover men and women. who reached moments where
human possibilities disappeared. Circumstances
became impossible. Enemies became stronger. Doors
became locked. Fires became hotter. Seas became
barriers. Lions became executioners. Prisons
became fortified. Storms became violent. And
death itself appeared to have spoken the final
word. And again and again, God intervened. So
before we go any further into this mystery, hold
onto these words. You do not have to know how
God is going to deliver you to know who to call.
Sometimes all you have left is a cry. But if
that cry knows where to go, a cry may be enough.