Today my team went into the village to pray. We began the morning together asking the Lord to prepare our hearts, then set out with our two English speaking friends and a church elder. We walked through the village, passing straw and mud houses full of families who watched us with open curiosity.
We first arrived at Amos’ house, an elder of the church and respected community member. He introduced us to his household, then took us a few houses down to meet his brother. One of our friends, Pacific, told us the custom here is to greet everybody in a family before going about your business. After talking, Amos’ entire family stood up and shook our hands in apparent approval. It felt a bit like a group interview. We’ve been praying in houses throughout the village all month, so I think we passed. Hopefully.
Pacific told us a group of women had already been gathered and were waiting for us. We walked deeper into the village and arrived at a cement house. We found 25 people gathered under the bamboo porch. We shook hands with each person before sitting down. Pacific told us we could begin what we came to do. New to this experience, we looked at one another unsure about what exactly it was we came to do. We asked about the needs in the community and if anyone specific needed prayer.
Within the group, eight people informed Amos about their needs, from back pain to difficulty walking, vision issues and family troubles. We prayed for each person in turn, then were informed another group was waiting.
On the way, our friend Larry asked if we could share a short message to encourage the group. When we arrived we greeted each person, then decided to pray. We prayed altogether, joined by the group. Alyssa then shared the story of the widow who gave all she had. Alyssa offered encouragement to the people, reminding them God only wants all we have. Simple enough.
The people speak Abidje, so we talked to Pacific and Larry, who translated for Amos who translated for the people. It went like this all day, arriving at new homes, praying to begin our time, sharing a message, then praying for whoever we could.
Each time we left a home, people were added to the number traveling with us. They would sit outside and listen wherever we went. When we walked, they surrounded us on all sides, directing any wayward cars away from us and shooing any people who attempted to bother us.
We had the opportunity to pray for the chief of the women. She asked for wisdom in leading. We prayed for the oldest woman in the village who looked over 100. Her daughter, still a considerable age, asked for strength to continue caring for her mother. We prayed for sick children and pregnant women. We prayed for a woman who had 3 generations of children, but they kept dying. We prayed for a woman whose household was in unrest. We prayed for a woman who lost her joy and no longer sang. Most of the people we prayed for were widows.
It was clear which houses had a spirit of peace surrounding them. We prayed for the Holy Spirit to invade those that did not.
I’m not sure how, but as we continued throughout the day, groups of people expected us and were gathered and waiting. I love this. The faith of these people, waiting in expectation for people they see as missionaries who carry the spirit of the Lord. That’s always who I want to be seen as, a person who carries the spirit of the Lord.
We encouraged the people to continue praying for one another after we left. I hope we left refreshment and a renewed energy for the Lord. I hope this will be a village of prayer that expects the presence of the Holy Spirit every day.
We should be expectant for him to arrive the way these groups expected us to arrive.
I shared with a group about the women who bled for 12 years and touched Jesus’ cloak, knowing she would be healed. Haylee shared the verse in Psalms that says God’s thoughts for us are numerous as the grains of sand. There’s a lot of sand here.
As we walked we passed naked children sitting in the dirt. They played with machetes and soccer balls or pieces of string. People recorded us walking and took pictures while countless lizards scurried everywhere. The red dirt stuck to our feet and mixed with the constant rivers of sweat bathing us like the showers we dream about. We had no water and I remember thinking about Jesus saying he is the river of living water, with him we will not thirst again. I know he wasn’t talking about physical water, but it was an encouraging thought in the moment.
We arrived at our last house when one of the girls traveling with us said we needed to come pray for her grandmother. It reminded me of the times in the Bible when Jesus was walking and people asked him to come to their houses and pray for a family member.
I love trying to imitate my savior. It’s on a tiny scale, but I want to be like him, and physically living some of his experiences makes my heart happy.
Even though my feet are disgusting, they’ve never looked more like the feet of Jesus.
“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news…” Isaiah 52:7
