Jan 30, 2026 God’s Help Is Never Late

A testimony from Yakobus Tomanda 

By early afternoon, my motorcycle was buried in mud. The forest was silent, and I was completely alone—except for God. 

My name is Yakobus Tomanda, and I’m a young pastor serving in the Luwu–Tana Toraja mission area of Indonesia.  

Alongside my home church, I serve two Sabbath School branches: Amballong, nearly 40 kilometers away, and Tirobali in the Seko Lemo area, about 60 kilometers from where I live. 

Ministering in this region is not easy. The terrain is rugged, the distances long, and during the rainy season, the roads become especially dangerous. Mud swallows tires, narrow paths turn slick, and journeys stretch far longer than planned. Yet I thank God for the motorcycle provided through Quiet Hour Ministries. With it, I can reach members in remote places that regular transportation cannot access. 

One of the most unforgettable experiences of my ministry came when I felt led to hold a second public evangelism series at the Tirobali Sabbath School branch. The spiritual hunger there was clear, and after much prayer, the meetings were scheduled. 

On the day I departed, the rainy season had begun. From the moment I left, I knew the journey would be difficult. The roads were muddy and slippery, and every kilometer carried risk. Still, I traveled with determination, having committed this mission to God in prayer. In my heart, I believed that no matter how hard the road, God would help me reach my destination. 

Several times along the way, my motorcycle slipped and fell. In other places, it sank into deep mud. Each obstacle drained my strength, yet help came again and again—often through other motorcyclists God placed along my path. 

The most difficult moment came on a rarely traveled forest path toward Seko Lemo. There, my motorcycle sank deeply into thick mud. Every attempt to accelerate only made it sink further. When I tried to pull it out, the mud clung tightly to the tires, exhausting my strength. 

It was around 1:35 in the afternoon. The journey ahead was still long, and there were no houses or shelters nearby. Exhausted and overwhelmed, I stopped and prayed, asking God for wisdom and strength. He was my only help. 

Completely drained, I leaned forward on my motorcycle and fell asleep. 

I don’t know how long I slept before I woke up to the sound of a motorcycle approaching from the opposite direction. I immediately realized that God was sending timely help. Soon, two motorcycles arrived, each with one passenger. Because the path was narrow, my motorcycle had to be moved first for them to be able to pass. With four of us pulling together, we finally freed it from the mud around 3:45 PM. 

With renewed strength, I continued my journey and arrived at the Tirobali Sabbath School branch around 7:15 that evening—physically exhausted, but deeply grateful. Once again, I saw that God’s help is never late. 

I thought the hardest part was over. I was wrong. 

That night, resistance arose from local religious and traditional leaders. Though permission had been granted earlier, pressure from the community led to a request that the meetings be canceled. Instead of responding in fear, I invited the congregation to pray. 

I was later summoned to a traditional meeting at the local government office. From evening until late at night, I faced leaders urging me to stop the meetings. The pressure was intense, but my faith remained firm. I calmly explained that this ministry had been prepared in prayer and entrusted fully to God. 

After a long discussion, they allowed the meetings to continue—on the condition that they be held indoors. I accepted gratefully. If God opens even a small door, it is enough for His glory. 

The meetings were held in a member’s home. On the first night, more than 20 people attended. By the second night, attendance grew to over 30 and remained steady until the end. 

The greatest joy came when one soul chose to accept Jesus and expressed a desire to be baptized. My heart overflowed with joy, reminded that heaven rejoices over even one soul who turns to God. 

Through this experience, I learned again that ministry is not about comfort, but faithfulness. Muddy roads, broken motorcycles, human resistance, and exhaustion cannot stop God’s work. It is often in our weakness that His power is most clearly revealed. 

I am deeply grateful to Quiet Hour Ministries for providing me with this motorcycle, which makes this work possible. Though the work is challenging and in extreme conditions, these sacrifices are part of my service to God. 

May this testimony strengthen the faith of all who read it and remind us that God never abandons those who faithfully follow His calling.