I could write a hundred blogs with a thousand words for months like this one. The months where the ministry is hard, yet rewarding, the ones when I hate to say goodbye to my contacts and the community I’ve developed around myself in one short month, those times when I laugh so hard I cry, when I’ve lived in some of the most primitive conditions that I experience culture shock just by going into the town market- civilization is becoming so foreign to me. The ones when I nearly lose my voice because I’ve been praying for the sick. The ones when I might go without a shower for a week- or more. The months where God is revealing Himself in ways I’ve never seen.
Team APEX spent the majority of the month of August in the bush of Mozambique working with an organization called “Africa on Fire“. Felito Utile started this organization as a result of a vision from the Lord. The heart of this ministry is orphans and self-sufficiency is one of the operation’s main goals. The government granted Felito over 72 acres of land just outside the small town of Chabuto for this project. As the Lord supplies, they are building Houses of Hope, offices, school buildings, a church, a Bible college, fields for farming and livestock, and more. Host parents along with 12-14 orphaned children will live in each House of Hope. Felito and his family, along with 3 Brazilian missionaries live on the property as well. In fact, Felito’s home was our big construction project this month.
We spent hours on end moving dirt from this pile to that, spreading it around, flattening it out and adding more dirt. Repeat. Then there was the bundling of bamboo, wood shaving, brick demo, cement mixing, cement laying, and so on.
Church services occurred nearly everyday and included singing, clapping, dancing and, of course, conga lines. Hello, cardio dance party. Anywhere from three languages could be heard during these services. Or three and a half if you include my “Sportuguese” (Spanish and Portuguese). There would typically be the main speaker along with a translator on stage speaking Portuguese and Changan (Tsonga) and another translator for us, speaking English. Hallelujah. Hosanna.
Church services occurred nearly everyday and included singing, clapping, dancing and, of course, conga lines. Hello, cardio dance party. Anywhere from three languages could be heard during these services. Or three and a half if you include my “Sportuguese” (Spanish and Portuguese). There would typically be the main speaker along with a translator on stage speaking Portuguese and Changan (Tsonga) and another translator for us, speaking English. Hallelujah. Hosanna.
Now let’s get to the meat of this ministry sandwich. Outreach.
We loaded the truck and piled ourselves in. After driving for a couple hours with scenery that perfectly complimented the soundtrack on my iPod, we unloaded, set up (which included a cheer stunt a time or two) and the people came. Outreaches lasted a few days out in villages where the gospel had never been preached and white people had never been seen. During the day, my team would evangelize and pray and invite people to that night’s events. At night, music drew the people in, but the message of the hope of Christ kept them there and had them returning in even larger numbers the next day. At the end of each service, we had a call for prayer- for the sick, the hurting, those who wanted to accept Christ into their lives. I have never prayed so much for so many people in one sitting. And it wasn’t even me praying. The words of the prophet Isaiah became so true for me those nights on outreach, “the Sovereign Lord has given me an instructed tongue, to know the word that sustains the weary.” Isaiah 50:4
We loaded the truck and piled ourselves in. After driving for a couple hours with scenery that perfectly complimented the soundtrack on my iPod, we unloaded, set up (which included a cheer stunt a time or two) and the people came. Outreaches lasted a few days out in villages where the gospel had never been preached and white people had never been seen. During the day, my team would evangelize and pray and invite people to that night’s events. At night, music drew the people in, but the message of the hope of Christ kept them there and had them returning in even larger numbers the next day. At the end of each service, we had a call for prayer- for the sick, the hurting, those who wanted to accept Christ into their lives. I have never prayed so much for so many people in one sitting. And it wasn’t even me praying. The words of the prophet Isaiah became so true for me those nights on outreach, “the Sovereign Lord has given me an instructed tongue, to know the word that sustains the weary.” Isaiah 50:4
Without knowing their language, their background or much of their needs, I was proclaiming healing, freedom and salvation for these people. I know there is no language where His voice is not heard. There is no color, no speech, no culture where the Spirit cannot move. I felt the power of the Spirit more those nights than I have before. And I am confident those people did, too. I had this picture in my mind our last night of outreach and I can’t believe it is too far from reality. I imagined the way the angels in heaven were rejoicing as the family of God grew a little bigger after those nights and another piece of Africa caught fire.
“The fire on the altar must be kept burning; it must not go out.” Leviticus 6:13
