“Find ministry in the mundane”
I’d written the words in blue ink on my first full day here in Livingstone, Zambia. I smiled seeing the words printed loving in my journal, reflecting on how God chooses to communicate to each of us differently in the ways that will allow us best to listen and understand.
Nearly two weeks after writing those words, I sat on the ground in a village, surrounded by a group of kids, telling them about Jesus. As I stood up to a wet and dirt covered behind, I reflected that having something to sit on for village days would be real nice…
In Zambia, the women use pieces of fabric around two meters long to carry their babies on their backs, wrap over their skirts like an apron, or to sit on when they’re selling at market. The fabrics are beautifully dyed and come in thousands of patterns. And I wanted one.
I always somewhat resist adopting local clothing because I’m not a local, after all. But something about going and getting fabric seemed appealing to me. And after time in the village, we had nothing planned for the afternoon.
But, can ministry look like fabric hunting?
“Ask The Lord” months comes with a tension between freedom, due to the lack of a host, and the need to fill our days with ‘ministry’ since we’re still on the World Race, after all.
After lunch, I told my team I wanted to go find fabric with the intention of walking in the spirit and seeing where God leads us. Bliz and Laura agreed to go with me, so we set off. Only problem… I didn’t exactly know where to find the fabric I wanted.
Livingstone has a big used clothes market in the center of town, so I figured we would start there.
A couple blocks away from our hostel, we ran into Jimmy, my street vendor friend. He is around my father’s age and I always think if my father met him, the two would be best friends. And Jimmy loves the Lord with a joyful intensity that challenges me every time I talk to him.
We chatted and I mentioned that we were looking for fabric. Jimmy told us buying it in town would be far too expensive, but if we were willing to make a 3 km walk to Maramba village, we would find a wide selection for good prices.
In classic Zambian fashion, Jimmy gave us directions to Maramba (“turn right not this street, or the next, but the next one. Follow across the bridge then go left at the police station. Then go allll the way straight—you will see turns but do not turn—after you go allll the way straight, you will see Maramba clinic—and maybe see some whites. There are whites working at the clinic. Irish, those guys, I think— and Maramba market is just behind there”) and we set off to find fabrics.
We’re buckled down for our long walk when Bliz suddenly starts to run, shouting back at us that she has to use the bathroom now. Laura and I trail behind her, watching her speedup, as she darts across the pothole street and into a nondescript building. We’re kind of laughing at her, but also feeling her pain because bathroom needs on the World Race are real and often very urgent.
As Laura and I approach, Bliz follows quickly behind who I assume is the shopkeeper to the toilet out back. And lo and behold, I see the collection of fabrics—beautiful glossy fabrics— hanging in front of the shop.
As Bliz is out back relieving herself, the shopkeeper comes back and invites us inside. She has a nice shop selling all variety of clothing, toys, and house decorations.
I walk over to the fabrics and start chatting with the shopkeeper. She tells me more about the fabric types, where they come from, and why the industry is so big here. Most importantly, she tells me her name is Zeleshi (it sounds as if you combined the word “zealous” with “jealousy.”)
It is near the one month anniversary of her moving her shop into this building, she tells me with a quiet pride.
“This is random, but do you go to church? Do you know Jesus?” I blurt out, as Holy Spirit poked me, and I jumped to be obedient. It’s funny how as I’m walking closer with Him, boldness becomes easier.
Her face lights up, “Yes I do! I live in the love of God! I know Jesus very much!”
I ask her if I can pray for her new business, something in my spirit wanting to reach out to her and bless her however I can. She raises her hands in surrender, jumps up and down a couple times, and issues a loud “yes, please!” while laughing. She grabs our hands and repeats, “yes, please!”
So I pray.
When I finish Zealishy looks up at me with a wide smile, sweet tears pooling in her eyes, “I love God and He loves me. You are a blessing sent from Him to remind me that I am on His mind.”
Joy upon joy washes over me because she is so right. She knows she is a beloved daughter and she walks in His joy. I agreed with her that, yes, God sent us here just to pray for her and her business. She agrees back and soon the two of us are laughing and agreeing that we serve a God who is so good and loves us so much.
I gave Zeleshi a huge hug and left her shop giddy and fully of joy.
And yeah, we reached Maramba market, eventually, and I got my fabric, the mission of the afternoon easily falling to the wayside as God led us in His plans instead.
On the way home, we passed two men carving what look like bedposts. “Hello, sisters,” they greeted us.
“Are you carpenters?” I asked, again the Holy Spirit’s sting making me blurt stuff out.
“Yes, we are,” one of the men answers, pausing in his sanding of the wood to talk to me.
“Like Jesus?”
I’ll never forget the look of confusion followed by amused understanding on the man’s face.
“Yes, like Jesus,” he replies with a belly deep chuckle.
“Well, Jesus loves you very much. He just wants you to know that.” I felt kind of lame saying that to a grown man, but his face crinkled into laughter. His belly deep chuckle turned into a belly deep laugh that followed me down the street as I kept going on our way home.
As we walked away, I was struck with how different God has made me in the last six months. He has given me joy and confidence that I thought I would never possess. It’s a freedom that likes of which I have never tasted before. For the first time I’m truly free and free to be who He created me to be.
God led us to ministry in the mundane and brought us to divine appointments via street vendor friends, bathroom troubles, and the search of fabric. He arranges all these strange but joyful meetings for me daily that I am humbled to be a part of, and humbled to have him speak to me about them.
