A Divine Desperation

1991 began many moments with Jesus, many of them I did not know was HIM doing what He does…orchestrating appointments for me to be a witness to others. 

Many times, I was just in the right place, and the right time (His time), with the ones He wanted me to meet. 

 

Mr. Cobb:

 

While landscaping on a Friday late afternoon with Pro-Care Properties in Portland, Oregon, In work in the town of Beaverton, Oregon, a suburb of Portland, I was finishing my day by using a blower to blow leaves in the late fall.

It is payday and my meager 8 dollars an hour didn’t pay much, but I was glad to be working. 

Living in my car, going through a bunch of self-inflicted trials, I was also grateful to have a car that ran, and a place of shelter.  Sleeping at the Truckstop Southbound Interstate 5, or at the rest area every evening became challenging. It was starting to get colder and colder at night, with rain increasing, as well. 

 

So, as I was finishing up my job, a Jeep Wagoneer pulled up next to me.

A man with one ear got my attention, so I turned off the blower to engage him. 

“Hello,” he exclaimed, “I’m Mr. Cobb.” 

I told him my name and asked him how I could help him.  

 (Remember, I have not prayed much in those early days of ministry, and didn’t understand spiritual warfare, or even how to believe, by faith, much of anything).

 

He asked me how much the company I worked for charged for landscaping; I told him twenty-five dollars an hour. 

“Oh,” he said under his breath, “I can’t afford that.” 

Mr. Cobb then informed me that he had an apartment complex nearby. He needed someone to rake leaves. 

I said, “Well, tomorrow, Saturday, is my day off, and I would be willing to do the job for you for $15.00 an hour.” 

He agreed, gave me the address, and said there was a shed that had lawn and leaf bags, rakes etcetera. So, I was supposed to show up at 8 a.m.

 “I will meet you at 5 p.m. and pay you.”

  OK. 

He drove off and I said, “Lord Jesus, thank you for the extra work.” 

I thought, the whole time, that I would be able to afford a motel room for at least one night, to shower and sleep comfortably, instead of having to shower at the truck stop and sleep in my car. 

 

The following morning, the test of a lifetime to me was beginning to unfold. 

I arrived at 8 a.m., as promised, to the worst rainstorm of the fall weather in the Portland area. 

Drenched from head to toe, with no rain gear, I raked ten flower beds, with two-foot deep, wet leaves, and put them in the bags. 

It was about 47 degrees outside, and the rain never stopped or let up. 

Deluge. 

It took me all day, bent over, and drenched from head to toe.

 

At the end of the day, I had 80 bags filled and stacked 5 feet high near the dumpster where he told me to leave them.  I didn’t even make a dent in this huge World War 2 era apartment complex, three stories high, with about 124 units. 

 

At 5 o’clock, Mr. Cobb arrived and was impressed with what I had accomplished. 

He paid me for 8 hours work,

And then, out of nowhere, he asked,

“Where do you live, Joe?” 

(Under my breath, I exclaimed, “Not too far from here,” not willing to reveal I was living in a 1979 Datsun B-210).

“Well, Joe, if you are willing, I have a one-bedroom apartment available and if you want to work for me as much as you can on your days off or in the evenings, you can have the apartment rent- free, no utilities to pay and you can move in whenever you want.” 

He reached into his pocket and dangled the keys to Unit #1 and said,

“Go ahead and move in today, Joe, if you want.” 

Wow! 

I stood there as Mr. Cobb drove away with cash in hand, a set of keys to an apartment, and I began crying. 

 

What was the test of a lifetime?  

Well, I could have showed up to the job with monsoon weather, and looked at all the work to do, with no rain gear, and said to myself,

 “Nah, this isn’t worth $15 an hour in this kind of weather,” and moved on.

But God had a plan, and I had to pass the test. 

 

I had to learn to cast aside how I felt physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, and be a man of my word and show up to work on time…. even though, it would have been a lot easier to drive away and get a motel room for the night. 

He paid me $15 an hour for all the hours I worked for the next year, landscaping, painting the interior of apartments, and maintenance work that the empty apartments needed. 

God honored my decision not to quit.  Not to give up.  Not letting rain and 47-degree weather with 20 mph winds stop His Will for me. 

 

Mr. Cobb. 

A one-eared property manager who just happened to drive up on a Friday afternoon looking for a willing vessel. 

Who would have thought. 

God did. 

 

And I lived in apartment #1, the old Perry Mason foyer- style apartment complex where you had to push a buzzer from inside your apartment to allow anyone into the hallway for entry. 

So good is the God of Abraham, Issac, and Jacob, to look down on me that day. 

 

Homeless, working for 9 dollars an hour, and very grateful to have that. 

 

He saw my condition and fixed my condition in a moment of time. 

No credit check, no application to rent, no background check (thank God), and no pretense. 

Just a man needing help with his property, and a born-again ex-convict saved by grace in need of a shower, food, a roof over his head, and hope. 

 

Well, Mr. Cobb may have been just a man. 

But he was a man sent from God for Joe. 

No doubt! 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins