"Lord, go before Bill, Bob and me as we meet with the plantation manager tomorrow morning to ask his permission to buy the land for your new buildings," I fervently led the congregation in Sunday prayer.

Our church building program was in crisis. Located amid cane fields on the North Shore, we could not buy land for the much-needed preschool and community center without his blessing. The manager had privately expressed his opposition to selling any prime agricultural land.

What would we do if he said "No" again? I had no other plan, but I trusted God.

Bob, the son of Buddhist immigrants from Japan, was the dedicated chairman of the church building board. Bill, a stalwart church member, was the former plantation manager. Together they reflected the diversity of our church.

Monday morning, we gathered for prayer in the church parking lot before the ride to the sugar company's offices. "Hawaiian snow" fell as I raised my voice over the roar of bulldozers and cranes harvesting cane.

"Father, please touch the plantation manager's heart," I prayed.

Bill led the familiar way to the office. Upon entry we were shocked to see the plantation manager nursing a bandaged split lip and swollen nose. I stammered, "Sir, we need your permission to buy two acres of land next to our church so we can build a much-needed preschool and community center."

Standing painfully, he proceeded to tell us this story:

"Gentlemen, we all know harvesting cane can be dangerous. I nearly got killed last night. We harvested the fields surrounding your church. A fire got out of control, and I was called from home to supervise. I drove by one of the loaded haulers stuck in a muddy ditch. The drivers were unhitching the hauler and going to get the big bulldozer to extract it. Seeing a fire jump the road, I climbed on top of the mired hauler to get a better view."

He touched his bandaged lip as he continued, "It was rainy and I slipped, fell and smashed my face on the wheel well. I got knocked out and landed under a rear tire."

His eyes misted as he said, "I woke up hearing the sound of the big D9 bulldozer starting to pull the hauler out of the ditch. No one saw me in the dark and smoke. I rolled out from under the wheels just as it lurched forward. One second later, and I would have been crushed for sure. I figure the good Lord saved my life last night in that field, and when the church asks for permission to buy that land, who am I to stand in the Lord's way?"

My soul rejoiced, as I comprehended the miraculous event. "Poor guy, sounds like he really had an experience in that field last night."

Bill's eyes twinkled as he quipped, "I guess we should be more careful how we pray."

This remarkable answer to prayer transformed our entire congregation into prayer warriors. We were infused with the faith and courage that would sustain us through the future challenges of the building project.

The Rev. David S. Milotta is pastor of Waialua United Church of Christ.