I’ve lived a pretty comfortable life. On very few occasions, has my absolute safety been threatened …until I traveled to the Dominican Republic to share the gospel.
It was a few days into our trip and we had been cautioned by our local contacts about our plans. You see, our group’s leader is gutsy. She’s outspoken. She’s obedient. She’s called to be a force in this world and everything about her screams it. Everywhere she goes, she asks the local pastors to take the team where no one else will go. Like all the trips before and with some hesitation, our Dominican hosts fulfilled her request.
We found ourselves in the Dominican bateys, small villages of Haitian immigrants in the middle of massive sugar cane plantations, miles from modern civilization. I watched as children and adults alike swarmed our team as the sun beat down on the tin shacks as the sand, dry from months without a drop of rain, swirled in the wind. They were hungry for food, that was clear by their physique, but their hearts longed for more.
In the days leading up to our trip to the bateys, locals warned us of what we might experience: violence out of pure desperation, impoverished bodies of tiny children withering away in the Dominican sun, and the very real and very tangible threat of witchcraft. Knowing this is where the Lord wanted us to go, we said, “bring it on.”
We split into groups and dispersed into the first batey, the best out of the three we would visit. My group found 3 young women sitting under a tree braiding each other’s hair. We stumbled through questions about salvation, with help from our translators, with not so much as a nod from the women. With no other solution, we gathered in a circle around them and began praying. As my head was bowed, I felt a gust of air on the back of my neck – but I knew it wasn’t the wind.
I opened my eyes to see a man holding polished stones and necklace of bones and flowers. It was the prominent witch doctor. For the first time in my life, I saw unadulterated evil in the eyes of another.
My prayer language heightened and I prayed against the darkness that was attacking us. Eventually another person in my group noticed him and walked our direction and the witch fled after a few minutes of prayer. For the rest of our time at that first batey, I was on the lookout for the man with the dark eyes and polished stones.
By the time we made our way to the second batey miles away, I had let my guard down and was ready to love on some sweet Creole people without fear polluting our vision. The residents of this batey had gathered near the road and were anxious to see why we had come. Our leader asked me to speak to the group and lead them in a prayer of salvation. It is super important that I stress – this was not my thing. I can talk to people one on one, and pray all day over people – but leading a huge group in broken Creole to Jesus was so far beyond my comfort zone that I barely recognized myself as I spoke. But I followed His direction. Dozens of hands went up seeking a relationship with Papa God. It was beautiful.
These people loved on us long after the candy we brought as tiny gifts had disappeared. They showed us around the village, inviting us into their homes proudly, and begging us to pray for loved ones. We were playing with some kids, when I hear it: a woman shrieking in desperation, “NO!”. The fear and intensity in her voice reverberated for what seemed like eternity.
She was screaming at the witch doctor, who had caught up with our bus and followed us. He was after us, but had replaced his mystical bones and flowers with a machete.
A real life witch doctor with a real life machete.
He had been there watching when I led those people to the Lord. He had been watching in the shadows as we prayed for the girl whose leg had quite literally rotted off after he had cursed her. We had brought light into the darkness he had spent his life crafting and he was furious.
The brave people of that batey subdued him and by sweet Papa God’s protection, we all made it back to the bus leaving behind the witch doctor and a community of new believers ready to stand their ground in the face of evil.
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When I tell people about the World Race and the nations He’s called me and my squad to, it’s not uncommon for people to shudder with what I assume is a mixture of shock, confusion, and a touch of fear. “Aren’t you scared?” they ask, especially in light of the recent terror attacks in Burkina Faso, where we will spend month 3.
My answer is always no.
When we are obedient to His call, we may face terrifying situations – but who better than people passionately committed to living a life fully entrusted to the Lion of Judah. Evil has quite literally looked me in the eye with the intent to destroy me. But if God has taught me anything in the past year, it’s just how much He loves me and how perfect love casts out fear (I John 4:18).
So, bring it on!
“Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed.” – Revelation 5:5
