Miracles or Reality? A Story from West Africa

Back in the 1980s, when I was serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ghana, I lived in the Northern Region in a small town called Tamale. The economic situation in the country was bad. The currency, the cedi, had a fixed official exchange rate of three cedi to one U.S. dollar. That rate wasn’t realistic. Goods were priced according to the black market rate, which was closer to one hundred cedi to a dollar.

My monthly Peace Corps stipend was paid at the official rate, which meant my buying power was almost nothing. My monthly check would buy peanuts and  tomatoes to last for about two weeks. After that, I relied on the generosity of my Ghanaian neighbors.

The Peace Corps knew this, so every third month they paid us in CFA, the currency used in French West African countries. It floated with the U.S. dollar and held real purchasing power. There was little black market for it. The only problem was that to collect it, I had to travel to a French West African country.

Because I was stationed in northern Ghana, I traveled to Ouagadougou, the capital of Upper Volta, now Burkina Faso. Informally, Peace Corps volunteers called it “Waga.” Every third month I traveled there with a military duffel bag, picked up my check at the Peace Corps office, and filled that bag with margarine, tuna, corned beef, sugar, flour, whiskey, and cigarettes. At the time I was drinking and smoking. I also bought extra whiskey and cigarettes to use at the border when re-entering Ghana.

Peace Corps arranged multiple reentry visas so we could cross the border legally. Before one of my quarterly trips, I realized my reentry visa had expired. To renew it properly meant traveling nearly 300 miles to Accra over bad roads in unreliable vehicles.

So I decided I would try to renew it at the Ghanaian embassy in Ouagadougou. I had never done that before. Usually the American Embassy in Accra handled visa matters for volunteers. But I hoped I could handle it myself.

On the ride to Ouagadougou, involving several overloaded, worn out Peugeot station wagons, I planned the whole thing. I would pick up my CFA check, buy supplies, enjoy a few meals in the city, and then visit the Ghanaian embassy. If necessary, I would bribe the official and get my visa renewed. That was my hope.

When I finished my purchasing and it was time to leave Waga, I began to consider the consequences of not getting a visa or being arrested for bribery. In Ghana, it wasn’t called bribing; it was called “dashing.” Officials were paid little. The system assumed that civil servants and anyone with authority would supplement their income through this custom. At military checkpoints, police barricades, government offices, and border crossings, dashing was required. It was how things moved.

I was prepared, though anxious. When I sat down with a Ghanaian consular officer and asked for a visa renewal, he looked troubled. He said it wasn’t something they normally did and that it should be handled in Accra. He asked for my passport. He flipped through it, paused, and said, “I don’t know,” and handed it back.

That was normal, and I relaxed. Putting money in my passport the first time I gave it to him would have been an insult. So I placed about the equivalent of twenty U.S. dollars inside the passport and handed it back the second time. Twenty dollars in Ouagadougou would buy two weeks of groceries for a family of five. He took the money, smiled, said he loved Americans, and stamped a one-time reentry visa in my passport. He told me I would still need to go to Accra eventually to renew my multiple reentry visa.

On my return trip into Ghana, the border guard looked through my full duffel bag. On top, where I had placed them, was a bottle of whiskey and two cartons of cigarettes. He removed them and looked at me. I nodded. He took the items, smiled, and waved me through. He never looked at my passport.

The question is this: Was my hope godly? Did God intervene so I could have canned tuna and margarine?

No act of God was required. I wasn’t trusting God. I was trusting corruption. I was counting on a system I knew was broken. I had foreign currency and goods not available in Ghana. I was an American. I wore local clothing, showing I wasn’t a tourist and knew the system.  I calculated the odds. The odds were in my favor.

The question of whether our actions are driven by godly hope or worldly hope is one Christians face. Many assume that if something works out, it must have been God. But success isn’t proof of godly intervention.

Worldly hope says, “If I know this system, I can make it work.” It depends on predictable systems, even corrupt ones. It assumes outcomes based on leverage, not promises.  I used my advantages, took part in a corrupt system, broke the law, and enabled others to do so for my benefit. Was the result miraculous? I was more likely to be cursed.

“Thus says the LORD: ‘Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength, whose heart departs from the LORD.’” (Jeremiah 17:5, NKJV).

Godly hope isn’t based on a system or a specific outcome. Nor does God promise that our earthly dealings will produce results we like.  Jesus said, “In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33, NKJV)

Godly hope rests on His promises, not our manipulation of circumstances.  “Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” (Romans 5:5, NKJV)

It’s anchored beyond this life.  “This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast.” (Hebrews 6:19, NKJV).  And it looks beyond temporary gain.  “…lay hold on eternal life…” (1 Timothy 6:12, NKJV).  Godly hope is based on the promise that if we obey Him, we receive eternal life.

“And this is the promise that He has promised us—eternal life.” (1 John 2:25, NKJV)

Reflection Questions

• Have I ever confused survival skill with spiritual faith?

• Where am I currently trusting leverage, money, influence, personality, or strategy?

• If those tools stopped working tomorrow, what would remain?

• What do I instinctively reach for first — prayer or a workaround?

• Am I demanding specific outcomes God never promised?

• If my “hope” depends on a broken system cooperating, is it really hope in God?

Prayer

Lord,

Search us and know our hearts. Show us where we’ve called something “faith” that was really strategy. Show us where we’ve trusted systems, leverage, influence, or advantage instead of trusting You.

Forgive us for the times we’ve justified compromise because it worked. Forgive us for mistaking smooth outcomes for Your approval.

Teach us the difference between worldly hope and godly hope. Anchor our hope in Your promises, not in predictable results. Give us the courage to obey You even when obedience costs us comfort, access, or success.

Help us to trust what You have actually promised — eternal life, Your presence, and Your overcoming power — and not assume promises You never made.

Guard our hearts from trusting in man and making flesh our strength. Root our confidence in Christ alone.

Let our lives reflect obedience, not calculation; integrity, not convenience; faith, not leverage.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.