Bradley Walsh, an ITV quiz, and God’s mysterious ways

Since my last en column I’ve had the dubious pleasure of appearing on a national TV gameshow.

I think I’ve mostly got away with it where I live. While my parents in Lancashire have had numerous comments from parishioners about ‘their Rachel’s’ inglorious foray into TV stardom, down here in Surrey it has remained, much to my relief, mostly incognito. But, to quote Rico Tice quoting John Stott quoting someone else whose name I have forgotten, one ought to be prepared to ‘rejoice in one’s humiliations’. (Plus, I’ll be honest with you, I’m two days past this column’s deadline and scrambling for content.)

Anyway. It was a Thursday morning. It was raining. And on the way into work my car – which I had owned for a mere matter of months – broke down in spectacular style, conking out at the edge of the office car park. I didn’t have breakdown cover (because I’m either an optimist or a fool), but several of my colleagues were kind enough to push the car through the business park to the garage 600 metres round the corner. In the middle of the deluge. It was heroic.

When an unknown number called my phone a couple of hours later, I answered it, assuming it would be the garage. Instead, it was a producer from ITV’s teatime quiz show, The Chase, hosted by Bradley Walsh (see photo). I had applied three years previously when I was feeling particularly bored with life (I turned that into content too, in Is This It?) and had pretty much forgotten about it. But here was the call. A space had opened up for the next day. Did I want to come on?

Was this God’s provision?

My colleagues assured me that I did. Plus, I’m a sucker for a good narrative arc, and that phone call felt positively providential. An almost miraculous opportunity to win some money on exactly the day I needed it most. I didn’t need the garage to tell me that the car was a goner – I knew it already. So maybe – no, surely – this was God’s provision of a new one?

It wasn’t.

Exactly what happened on that episode I will keep between me, Bradley Walsh, and some 3million ITV viewers. Except to say that, apart from the Bible, what is the one part of the Christian canon that might come up in a popular TV quiz? That’s right, C.S. Lewis. I was asked the location of a mythical land and given four fantasy-novel-world possibilities as multiple-choice answers. ‘Well, it’s definitely not Narnia,’ I told Bradley, assuming that if it was then I would somehow just know, by some inner prompting of the Spirit, despite not having been near a C.S. Lewis novel for two decades.

It definitely was Narnia.

Soon after that I was out of contention and I went home without any money. ‘Send my love to everyone at The Good Book Company,’ Bradley said as I completed the walk of shame off stage, ensuring that the whole company would be dragged into disrepute along with me. I got onto the train with only a complimentary The Chase water bottle to prove it wasn’t all a dream.

A gift for merry paupers

Here’s the thing, though – I still got to replace my car, eventually. After a couple of months spent cycling everywhere, a family from church offered me their old one for free. It was incredibly generous of them. And it’s still going (and has therefore done better than any secondhand car I’ve ever bought for myself). And when I drive it and remember how I got it, I smile, remembering that nine times out of ten, that’s how God’s provision works. We receive it not as winners, but as merry paupers who have been offered a free gift. And it comes not through mystery calls from unknown numbers or TV game shows, but through the local church, looking out for each other and sharing what we have with each other because we’re one in heart and mind (Acts 4:32). And sure, the story of how I got my new car is a lot less glamorous than the one I imagined was being written that rainy day in October. But God’s Spirit working in God’s people to move them to generosity? That’s truly miraculous.