Day 2: Sunday, 26th January, 2014

Day 2: Katothya & a Movie at Musengo I apologize in advance for any confusion in my posts! Today is actually Day 4, but because these days are so packed with incredible moments, it’s been a challenge getting them all recorded and an even greater challenge getting them posted to the internet. Our limited wifi prevents us from both working quickly and uploading many (if any) pictures. We’ll see! Hopefully I can at least get a couple more posts up today! The morning of the second day, we all woke up earlier than we meant to… jet lag. (: But after breakfast, Peter led us in our first morning devotional from John 14:8-14, reminding us that Christ’s highest goal in coming to the earth was to honor the Father, that He was so much in unity with the Father in Heaven, and the Father was in unity with Him, the very words He spoke were not of Himself, but of the Father dwelling in Him. God the Father is the one doing all the great works as His will, in His way, and in His time. We simply have to trust in Him and all will be as He intends. And, in trusting Him, we can call up the name of Jesus as His son who lived and died to glorify Him and we will accomplish even greater things than Jesus did because He has gone on ahead to the Father on our behalf. We then departed for the town of Kabati, about 10 minutes away, to rendezvous with Reverend and Mrs. Musyimi, Grace, and Alexander and to get some gasoline for the generator. While we were waiting, I climbed out of the van to greet a crowd of children that had gathered around the van to get a glimpse of the latest visitors to their area. I asked them (in a kind of mime) if I could take their picture and they agreed with shy grins that soon grew into big smiles as soon as I flashed them a funny face and gestured that I thought they were beautiful. I took a few photos and then showed them what they looked like on the LCD screen and their smiles turned to dropped jaws and shouts of excitement to see their faces looking so clearly back at them. Knowing they don’t get the chance every day to learn about cameras, I showed them how to look through the viewfinder and take a picture. In all actuality, this is probably something they’ve never done before and may never do again. One of the girls, so sweet, didn’t really understand my directions and nervously held her closed eye up to the hole, not really looking through to see what lay beyond the lens, but trying her best to do it just like me. (: We then drove about an hour to the very rural village town of Katothya. There were maybe a dozen houses on either side of the dirt road running through the town, most of them backing up to surrounding maize fields. It’s a very small village, but serves as a community meeting place for the many surrounding farms. The church we were visiting is pretty much the coolest church I’ve ever been in. The reason? Because it was a church made of the people more than the permanent structure they were meeting in. There were only two brick walls, running parallel to one another with a storage room attached to one of them at the side. There was no wall behind the pulpit area nor at the back of the church where the people were seated. There wasn’t a door. There wasn’t a roof. And the floor was made of dirt. The only thing protecting us from the light of the sun were a few tarps strung up over tall frames made from slender tree trunks that had been shorn of their branches. A collection of plastic lawn chairs were set up in rows and the local churchgoers—who had been patiently waiting for us for over an hour—were singing and dancing to the beat of a drum. African praise music is truly beautiful. It’s so full of rhythm and energy. The words are simple and repeated many times over, but it’s sustaining in its constancy. I love it and I know God loves it, too. We set up for praise and worship, started the generator, and offered up our songs of praise for the congregation. Many villagers and visitors from other churches gathered around the tent to listen to our songs. Many of them have never seen a full band before or any kind of electric drum set. After the worship, Peter spoke to the congregation (while Reverend Musyimi translated) and encouraged them to believe that, despite the difficulties of their circumstances, their passion and faith in the Lord was strong and, just as Christ calls us to make disciples of all nations in Matthew 28:16-20, the people of Katothya should start praying to send a missionary of their own into the world. Their circumstances cannot keep them from sharing God’s love with the world. Many of them were inspired by this message, feeling enriched that God has a calling on their small church, no matter how remote it may be in the world. We then started praying for any members of the church who were suffering from sickness. The first woman to come up had great difficulty with her vision, unable to see clearly. After praying for her just a few minutes, she opened her eyes and she could clearly see the mountains that were literally dozens of miles in the distance!! Even I wouldn't have been able to make them out without my contact lenses, but she could see them perfectly. The next woman that came up said her eyes couldn’t handle the bright light of day. She was unable to look out at the fields without pain. We prayed a few minutes and she said it was a little bit better, but not completely. Peter took that as a sign of encouragement though and we continued to pray. After a few minutes, she was able to look out at the fields and up at the even brighter, white tarp hanging in the sun and she said there was no pain! We are reminded of the verse in Mark 8:22-26 in which Jesus must touch a blind man twice to heal him completely. The healing didn't come in full the first time, but he was fully restored after Jesus persisted in his prayers to heal him. The next man to come forward was old. His hair was fine and light gray, his face drawn with the years. He walked with a cane, but he asked instead for prayer over his back. (I think he has lived with his cane so long, he doesn’t think to go without it.) He couldn’t bend over, barely able to touch his knees. We prayed over him and sure enough, this man was able to touch the ground without bending his knees! (He’s probably more flexible than those of us who prayed over him!) As we laid hands on him though, I noticed just how tattered his clothes were. He was wearing a dusty-rose suit jacket and ochre-brown dress pants, but both of them were so worn. There was a hole in the jacket pocket and the edges were frayed, though he made sure to keep the frays neatly trimmed away. Dusting his shoulders was the dirt of his town… years of dust from his life on a farm covering his shoulders and the hem of his pants, but despite the hardship that has made him old, something about him was also childlike at the same time... He had lived a long time, but his faith in what God could do for him swept across his face in the most joyful, youthful smile. As soon as he was healed, it seemed as though he was also refreshed with wonder for God’s awesome and loving power. He was grateful for his long life of blessings. We prayed for several others that afternoon, but I had yet to lay hands on anyone on my own. I’ve never thought of myself as a healer, thinking I wasn’t good enough for the task—my analytical skepticism and doubt have always prevented me from ever trusting that I could do it—but I was reminded by Peter’s morning devotional that it’s not us doing these things, but the Father working in us, and if we simply ask Him to do His will in the name of His Son that has gone to Him before us, we will do great things for His glory. Before this trip, I was just praying that God would use me… even if only just a little. Maybe I wasn't worthy enough to be used a lot, but if God would just let me be used for His glory a little… I'd be so grateful. Suddenly, I found myself standing in the midst of several groups of our team praying for different people, but I was alone. Reverend Musyimi noticed and he pulled me over to a young woman who was just walking forward. He explained her situation to me. She had been suffering from stomach pain, but the Reverend didn’t say which kind. A prick of doubt ran through me, “God, aside from praying for her stomach, how could I possibly make a difference if I don’t precisely know what to pray for?” But, okay… I could at least try. Without warning, Reverend Musyimi—so humble a giant of a man—thrust my hand forward to grasp her stomach. He stepped back and prayed from a short distance, choosing not to touch her. “Oh Lord, please, please pleeeeease use me, Lord,” I quickly prayed for myself, and then proceeded to pray aloud for her stomach, whatever was ailing her. I asked God to expel from her body whatever pain was coursing through her, if it was muscle cramping, digestion, swelling—whatever it was—it had no right to stay there anymore because she was one of God’s holy temples and she wanted to be in good condition to serve Him. My prayer only lasted a few minutes, but I asked her how she was feeling. She touched her stomach, testing it to see… she felt her stomach, hesitating to make sure, and then she looked up at the Reverend with a tiny, tiny smile on her face, almost unbelieving, but the Reverend asked her if she felt better, and then turned to me with a huge smile to say that she was completely better. What?? Really??? It WORKED??? I was shocked! God used me to heal someone! And then, if I'm being honest, I thought, “That’s it? It’s as simple as that? All we have to do is pray and believe that God can heal someone, call upon the name of Jesus, and they will be healed… but that's so easy!!” Joy spread over me as I realized that the King of the entire universe saw fit not only to heal this girl of her stomach pain, but He trusted me to help in the process. What a privilege it was! My heart swelled with the honor and I was eager to see Him do more, grateful for every opportunity to pray for anyone in need. It still feels strange, but I'm getting used to the idea that, in God's Kingdom, that's how the Doctor often chooses to work. How utterly simple and beautiful this Kingdom of His is! As a team, we continued to pray for many members of the congregation and God continued to heal. It was that easy. We called upon Jesus and He presented our prayers to the Father. It was a blessed, blessed afternoon. In the sweltering heat, there was hope and joy and people were met with the healing love of Christ. It was beautiful. We were then treated to one of the best meals I’ve ever had. One of the village elders invited us to his farm where, in the beautiful golden light of the afternoon with the sunlight shining through the leaves of the trees and the husks of the corn, we thoroughly feasted with the local church members on roasted chicken, avocados, rice, tomatoes, paw paw (similar to cantaloupe), and—my favorite—a spinach, tomato, garlic, onion, and carrot salad. I don’t know what heavenly secret ingredient the cook used, but it was one of the best salads I’ve ever had! While we were eating, the chickens and chicks from the farm roamed about our feet, trolling for scraps that fell to the ground, and I spent the time talking with “the two Graces” as I called them with a grin (Grace, Reverend Musyimi’s wife and Grace the worship leader of Masengo). We shared stories about our families, Africa, and the blessings God has given each of us. We were then treated to a crate of glass-bottled Cokes to finish off the meal. For me, it was truly a bit of heaven on earth. If the Kingdom of God is nigh, I think that afternoon is what it must look like much of the time… a community coming together in grateful appreciation of the beautiful blessings God has given us. From Kathotya, we returned to Masengo where the congregation was waiting eagerly for us to arrive. (Once again, we were running on "Africa Time" and were about an hour later than we originally intended.) But all was well once we came. We set up the movie projector and showed the people of Masengo a movie about the life of Jesus. The movie is one of a very few that has ever been translated into the local Kamba language. It was a unique experience watching the life of Jesus—all of the stories, his miracles, his sacrificial death and resurrection—unfolding before me in another language but, because I grew up with the stories, none of the meaning was lost. There were moments when everyone laughed aloud together, gasped in awe at Jesus' miracles or in horror at the nailing of His hands to the cross, and clapped for joy when His followers realized He was risen. I knew why the congregation laughed, why they cried, why they responded to what they were seeing. It’s truly an international story that can touch the hearts of every man, woman, and child who learns of it, and it was beautiful. Once again, we invited people to come up for prayer if they needed healing of any kind. A woman with ringing in her right ear was completely healed. Three ladies with stomach aches, two ladies and one gentleman with chest problems, one lady with a neck problem, a woman who had symptoms of pneumonia and had difficulty breathing was soon able to breathe normally, and one lady with vision problems were immediately and completely relieved of the pain they were suffering, and God-willing, the pain won’t return. But sometimes, as I would learn later that night, God doesn't always bring healing in the way we expect. While we were praying for many people, I prayed for a woman with muscle and joint pain in her right leg. At first, the pain in her hip disappeared immediately, and soon went the pain in her thigh, but her knee persisted to trouble her, so we prayed more. After asking her whether or not she felt relief, she bent her knees, rotated them in a kind of dance step, and then stood upright. She explained that she felt better, and Mbondo translated that she was healed, but something on her face didn’t convince me. If she was healed, shouldn’t she have a smile on her face? Shouldn’t there be a light shining from her eyes? My heart dropped a bit. Perhaps I was wrong, but I wanted to continue praying for her. She bowed her head thankfully though and slipped quickly back to her seat before I could stop her. I watched her throughout the rest of the service… trying to find some kind of joy in her expression for what she had said God had done, but there was none. At the end of the service, Peter asked the congregation to raise their hands if they received healing that night and I was surprised that she raised hers, as still she wore no smile, but she raised her hand, so… perhaps God had relieved her suffering, but I continued to pray for her, and this time for her heart. Perhaps there was a pain in her life that prevented her from experiencing God's joy and, at the very least, I could continue to pray for that. All of these miracles, all of these little changes that bring relief to individual lives might seem small--comparably insignificant to the size of the universe--and yet they reveal so much about the character of God. He has love in abundance for each of us. He’s a personal God who He hears our prayers and, more often than not, truly listens… if only we take the time to ask. Until the next post, blessings from the rolling hills of Tulia in Kitui county, Kenya, Ellie