On my second project at Hong Kong later in 1975, we did seismic traverses in the hills around Tai Po harbor, north of Kowloon. I had a new assistant named Philip Lui.
The last traverse area was on a prominent point of land, where we had a grand view of Tai Po harbor and the hills on either side of us. It was a Saturday.
As we began to lay out our traverse lines we noticed that half of the harbor was obscured by a gray curtain of heavy rain, which was approaching us.
Philip said, “Look, it’s going to rain,” expecting that I would postpone the work until a later day.
But, emboldened by my earlier experience at Junk Bay, I said, “No, let’s get these lines laid out.”
As we finished laying out the lines, the rain was upon us.
Philip was Roman Catholic, and we had been talking about spiritual faith, so I audibly prayed, “Dear God, please stop the rain, in Jesus’ Name, and thank You for stopping the rain.”
The rain decreased about half. I said, “Philip, I think the Lord wants you to pray to stop the rain.”
With my hand on Philip’s shoulder, Philip prayed, “Dear God, please stop the rain.”
Instantly the rain decreased to a drizzle. Philip gasped and staggered backward. I said, “Philip, you need to finish the prayer,” which he did. The rain stopped completely, but we were surrounded on every side, by that gray curtain. It was raining heavily all around us. But we were dry.
Then Philip muttered something about it being magic.
It started drizzling again.
I said, “Philip, this is not magic, but a loving God answering our prayers in faith. I would rather postpone our work here and return to the office soaking wet, than have you believe that this was magic.”
And that’s what happened. It rained heavily as we walked down that hill to the car, and all the way back to the office.
Before we parted that day, Philip said, “I haven’t been to Church for a while. Will you go to Church with me tomorrow?”
I told him I’d be delighted. And that’s what we did.