… even with a gun in your face
The phrase has been repeated so often that it has almost become a cliché. Yet, its truth remains unwavering: “In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Romans 8:37). As I preached from this passage during a Monday service at the start of our second week in Mshadza, South Africa, it carried a deeper meaning in light of the previous week’s events. What does it truly mean to be more than a conqueror?
The outreach meetings were exceeding all expectations despite the small size and remoteness of the township. People traveled from as far as Giyani in the Northern Province—three hours by car or five by bus—just to be prayed for. Soon, there weren’t enough seats in the tent, and people stood for nearly three hours just to hear the message. Yet, they kept coming. Hundreds were saved. It was impossible to count the healings. The glory of God dwelt in that tent.
Yet, amid the spiritual victories, the week was not without trials.
On Wednesday night, as we drove home from the meeting, something spilled in the car. I slowed down and turned on the interior light so my son could pick it up. In that instant, my door flew open, and a pistol was shoved in my face.
“I SHOOT YOU! GET OUT! I SHOOT YOU!”
For a moment, I couldn’t comprehend that it was real. We were being hijacked. I stepped out, turning off the car’s engine as I did. The thief jumped into the driver’s seat, joined by two others who emerged from the shadows. As they fumbled with the vehicle, we began walking toward a taxi that was following behind, hoping for a ride home or at least to the police station.
By the time we reached my car—now abandoned at the bottom of the hill—the thieves had vanished. Miraculously, nothing was taken. The radio, the keyboard in the back seat, Nathan’s portable CD player in the glovebox, the sound system in the trunk—everything was untouched. The only thing missing was my keys. Despite numerous futile attempts to reach the police by phone, a small group from our team took a taxi to the station, only to be met with refusal to act. Shaken but unharmed, we used Nathan’s spare key and drove home.
Blessed Beyond Measure
Blessing is not measured by our circumstances but by our position in Christ. Paul gives us three promises in Romans 8:
If God is for us, no one can be against us.
Since God did not spare His own Son, how much more will He provide for us?
If God is for us, no one can bring a charge against us, for Christ Himself intercedes on our behalf.
God does not promise a life without hardship, but in all these things, we are more than conquerors. The temporary trials of this world hold no power over those who walk in the favor of God. Nothing—neither trouble nor hardship, peril nor sword, neither life nor death, nor any powers—can separate us from His love. That is the true measure of our victory.
A Testimony of Redemption
Men rarely stood to give testimony in the tent, but on Friday night, just days after our attempted carjacking, one young man rose to speak. With conviction, he declared, “God is a powerful God! I know now that God loves everybody, even me.”
As Pastor Mamize translated his words, the weight of the moment hit me. This was the very youth who had attempted to hijack my car. He had come to the tent each night, not to seek God, but to spy out our patterns. In doing so, he had unknowingly heard the Gospel. Now, overwhelmed by God’s grace, he stood before the congregation as a new creation in Christ, testifying to the transforming love of God.
This is what it means to be more than a conqueror. Not just overcoming trials but witnessing the power of redemption in the very heart of our enemies. To see the lost found. To stand unshaken in the face of danger, knowing that God’s love is greater than any force that comes against us.
Indeed, in all these things, we are more than conquerors.