Barker’s Yard, where I was incarcerated for five days, became like a prison to me.  I had never heard of Barker’s Yard and it was not one of my scheduled stops.

I had preached in most towns in Kent, then drove through the Dartford tunnel into Essex to Southend-on Sea, Chelmsford, Colchester, through Suffolk into Norfolk.  By this time I was tired and looking forward to ending my long journey.  I planned to visit Fakenham, Wells-next-the-Sea, down to Hunstanton and lastly on to Sandringham where I was camping.

In Wells-next-the-Sea the gear-box jammed,  Neither the first or reverse gears would fall into place.  The van was immobile!  I prayed, ‘Lord, please help.’

A mechanic came first, then a breakdown truck, then a bigger one with two mechanics.  They decided to tow me to the rear of a garage – Barker’s Yard!

The gear-box needed to be taken out and delivered to a gear-box specialist for repair.

The men kindly allowed me to camp in the van at the rear of the premises and as I had all my worldly goods and chattels on board I thought it wise too stay with them.

To break down is one thing, to break down in a little place on a Friday night leaves you at the mercy of events.

The manager, a jovial man with a friendly smile was an optimist.

Every time I made an inquiry regarding progress or why nothing seemed to be happening, he reassured me  in his broad Norfolk accent.

‘It will be ready in two hours,  it won’t even take two hours to slip that gear-box in,’ his face beaming.  However, for all his optimism he had no sense of urgency, only promises, promises.

I used the time to give out Gospel tracts, to post them through the letter boxes on the housing estates, preached in the tiny precinct and pacing up and down the sandy estuary prying continually.  It was a trying and frustrating five days.

I was parked among some lorries in an isolated spot by the heaps of junk you would normally associate with a garage.  On this particular night I was awakened from a deep sleep by disturbing noises outside. Something had moved.  I listened intently, nothing happened.  I settled down again, began to doze off…  There it was again.  There was no mistake, someone was moving stealthily around outside.

Switching on the lights,  hastily dressed, grabbing my walking stick and a long beam torch I unlocked the door and stepped down to the ground, ready to challenge the prowler.  The torch beam searched every pile of junk, every crevice, every crack.  All the lorries looked untouched, everything was calm and peaceful, yet I was sure I had heard something.

I got back into the van, locked up and went back to bed.  Just as I was drifting off  I heard someone move again.  With my heart beating wildly,  my body covered in goose-pimples but I didn’t hesitate.  I flicked a switch, light flooded the place and without hesitating I rushed out, directing my torch beam as I went.  Yes, there he was, I saw the back of his coat disappearing round the corner, now he was crossing the road, his tail held high in the air, a fox!

I went back to bed once again. As I snuggled down the memories of the van’s dedication to the Lord’s work at Bels Yew Green Chapel passed through my mind.  What a happy occasion it had been.  The tiny chapel had been crowded.

On our return from a trip to Poland, Pastor Arthur Rivers had, unbeknown to Sheila and I, written to all our friends sharing his concerns about the old Bedford camper that had caused us so many problems.  Lights had failed, springs needed renewing, rust, parts and bits of the body work literally dropping off.  Then there was at least one tyre that had worn down to the canvas.  How wonderful that the Lord had kept us safe driving with this dangerous tyre from Osnobrook in Germany all the way home in the U.K.

The van was due for its M.O.T. (Ministry of Transport) test but  Pastor Rivers had been bothered that a lot of money would be spent on a lost cause.

The letter had been an appeal for money to put into a fund to provide a new vehicle.  What joy he had as the Lord prompted many people to respond by sending gifts, the fund grew amazingly quickly.  My prayer for a larger van, one that I can walk upright in, had been answered.  I had cut my head so often as I walked through the low doors, that it seemed to be permanently scarred. The motor caravan had been purchased in Essex and driven straight to the chapel for the ceremony.

Having been to Poland several times in the new camper van, always loaded to capacity with baby clothes, all kinds of women’s wear,  children’s shoes, men’s clothing, Bibles, tracts,  musical instruments, amplifier, speakers, the team’s luggage and many other things; my wallet loaded with money to distribute to needy families I praised the Lord for His goodness, mercy and protection of myself, Sheila and the team.

You are probably asking, ‘Did Tony get out of Barker’s Yard?’

Yes, I did.  The bill was enormous but the Lord graciously provided the money.  I returned home to rest and wait upon the Lord.

He said in the Scriptures, “In the world ye shall have tribulation but, be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.’ (John 16:33b)

I pondered on these words.