God has a sense of humor.
And he's also extremely loving even when we doubt him.
We left our ministry sight in Tanzania early Wednesday morning.
We made it to our hostel a couple hours later.
Our African momma Margaret came with us and we got to see her home.
Halfway through the stay I started feeling weird.
I had problems with achy joints the last few days and a bit of a headache, but didn't think much of it.
But my stomach starting talking to me,
and man was it angry.
So we left momma's and I decided I should get checked for malaria just to be safe.
Sam and I headed out in search of the hospital,
which was apparently behind a discrete little gate that could be easily missed.
And miss it we did.
So we stopped at a church that had a service going on and asked one of the guys outside to get there.
Meanwhile, he and another African momma invited us into the service.
"Sorry, we can't. Were headed to the hospital."
So we walked back down and found the hospital.
Turns out they were closed.
This was around 4:30, and we were meeting friends at 5:30.
I asked Sam if she wanted to go to church and she said "Yeah, let's go!"
(Funny unrelated story: Sam and I always get into trouble when we're together. We got jank tattoos together in Cambodia and jumped on a random boat and asked for a ride around the river. Good times).
We figured we were redeeming ourselves
(and no, that's not really why we went to church).
So there we were, worshipping away with our stranger African brothers and sisters.
I was having a moment thinking about how beautiful the family of God is.
And I also started crying and had no idea why.
I prayed to God telling him I wanted to see more of him
(and truthfully, I was specifically referring to seeing the manifestation of his power through healings, miracles, etc.)
I felt the Spirit saying,
"Courtney, you're so quick to wanna see other people healed, but you're not even believing in it for yourself."
Ouch.
And that was so true!
I hadn't even considered having people pray over me.
Instead, I went straight to the thought of getting fixed with meds!
So I started proclaiming his truths over me,
you know, "by his wounds we are healed" kind of thing.
This might not make sense,
but I'm really not sure if I believed or not.
Sometimes I think I do,
but I can never really tell.
So then the service started, and of course Sam and I are sitting there having no idea what's going on.
But then a lady came back to sit beside us and volunteered to translate for us.
Brilliant!
"This message is on healing," she whispered to me.
Annnnd jaw drop….Go.
From that point on til the end of the service,
I went back and forth between laughing and looking like a deer in the headlights.
It was just straight Scripture truth the whole time.
"He was wounded by our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities, upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed.". Isaiah 53:5
At the end of the service,
the pastor had everyone join together in prayer believing in faith for healing,
and said that if you had walked in there that evening in need of healing,
you would walk out good as new so long as you believed in faith that God could do it.
Again, dumbfounded.
I didn't even think to go to God when I wasn't feeling well!
But he was thinking of me the whole time,
and I imagine him saying,
"The hospitals right here!"
when we walked away from the church the first time.
Oh, and if you're wondering how I'm feeling….
I didn't feel weird tingles in my body
or anything supernatural happen as I prayed,
but I walked out knowing I was healed.
And as I sit here and write this the day after this all went down,
I can tell you I'm feeling like a million bucks 🙂
I think I'll go with Jesus as my physician from now on.
