Pastor Seidel slumped into a chair and sighed. The journey had been long, but he and his faithful mule Penicillin had made it through the jungle all in one piece.
Not all journeys had been so successful. Poisonous snakes had bitten the missionary three times in the Amazon basin. For protection, he’d purchased a rifle, which heal ways kept in Penicillin’s backpack. Pastor Seidel discovered that the family he’d come to visit wasn’t interested in hearing about God. «We don’t need Him,» the father said. Then he changed the subject.
While the visiting pastor prepared for supper, his host noticed the rifle lying on the porch. Nice gun, he thought to himself. Telescopic sight and everything. He positioned the weapon by his chin and peeked through the scope. Wow. I’ve got a closeup view of ol’ Penicillin—
Bang! By accident the gun fired, sending a slug right into the head of Pastor Seidel’s faithful companion. The mule began to shiver and shake. «What happened?» the missionary gasped as he ran from the hut. Seeing the gun and the shaking mule, he instantly figured it out.
“I’m so sorry!» cried the man.
«My mule!» the missionary exclaimed, thinking about those jungle miles between him and home and his poor four-legged friend, who now had a bullet in his brain.
«O God,» Pastor Seidel prayed aloud. «Save my mule. Please!» The mule shook for several days, then got well.
The man who’d fired the gun decided that if God could heal a mule, He could save him and his whole family from their sins. They were all baptized