In the magical world of Armstrongism, its god is more concerned about the little things in life than it is about Christians being slaughtered in Muslim lands, entire families being wiped out by drunk drivers, families shot in their beds by despondent fathers/siblings or finding out the cancer you have is incurable. However, the god of Armstrongism just looooooooooves doing little miracles for church members, particularly for Philadelphia Church of God members.
PCG's Rufard Manyepa writes in The Brief Case of the Briefcase
My two friends and I had been playing tag inside the house. The game had become more and more adventurous until I hid in my parents’ bedroom, knowing that nobody could get me there. After a few minutes though, I was bored. As I exited, I spotted my father’s briefcase and decided to show it off to my friends.
They were as enamored by it as I would have hoped, their eyes widening with astonishment as it came into view. Soft-sided and old as it was, it still looked good. Its brown leather had developed an attractive patina over the years, and its passcode dials were still shiny. I carefully set it down on the ground and opened it. My friends wordlessly entreated me to examine it. After a second’s pause, I gave them the thumbs up. In that moment, I felt like a Roman Emperor.
Thirsty from the game of tag, I went to fetch us some water. When I returned, just three minutes later, my friends had apologetic expressions on their faces as they held up the briefcase to me like an offering. In the short time I had been in the kitchen, they unlocked the case, set a new code and shut the case with no idea what the new one was. We were now locked out with no clue how to get in.
My entire world came crashing down on me: What would I say to my dad? How would he gain access to his briefcase? His Bible and years of notes were in there. I had been in trouble many times before, but this was something entirely different altogether. This was one of the most personal, important things he owned. Aside from its contents, the briefcase itself was of immense sentimental value. We tried to get it open for the rest of the afternoon. By nightfall, my friends had gone home and we still hadn’t figured out the code.
I had no option but to tell my father what happened. When he arrived, I told him the entire story of what had happened. He listened quietly and attentively as I soberly related him with the day’s events. When I was done, I expected him to ask why I had gone into their bedroom, or why I was playing with his briefcase. I expected him to be furious. Instead, he calmly asked, “Before trying to open the briefcase, did you pray?”
I was rocked. I hadn’t even thought of praying! As I stuttered, trying to come up with an excuse, my father told me to bring the briefcase. “We are going to pray about it,” he said. “God will open it up if He wants to, but you must remember that He won’t do so unless we ask Him to. Always remember to go to God first before you do anything.”
I brought the briefcase to my dad, and he placed it on his lap. I sat by him and he began to pray. He thanked God for this faith-building opportunity asking for His intervention in the matter. He asked God to show His involvement in our lives. As he prayed, his hands fiddled with the briefcase dials. He ended the prayer thanking God for His miracles, asking that He perform one for us now. When he said the word “Amen,” it was accompanied by a loud clack! The briefcase was unlocked!
What a miracle! This wasn’t chance. God miraculously intervened!