Dare to Believe!
From Chapter Three
One evening in 1982, while walking home from my publishing office south of Cairo, I approached the six-story building in which my family and I lived and saw the strangest sight. Construction had begun on a similar high-rise apartment building on the lot next to our home, and the workers had brought piles of building supplies—sand, cement, timber, and tons of steel-reinforcement bars. They had hired a guard to protect these materials. He lived at the side of the road in front of the site with his wife and three kids. They had nothing but a stretched tarpaulin to keep off the sun and the rare winter rainfall, a few cooking pots, a gas-burner . . . and a television.
As I walked past them, the sight of this family huddled together around this little black-and-white television stopped me in my tracks.
How do they have such an appliance living here, on the edge of destitution, by the roadside? I spotted a power-cord running right across the building site to a ground-floor neighbor’s home. I stood and blatantly stared, though no one from the family noticed me—their eyes were all glued to the little screen!
Eventually I walked on, but that sight stuck with me. How could such an assumedly illiterate family ever be exposed to the Christian faith . . . unless . . . it was through a medium such as television. I groaned inwardly.
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