Our time in South Africa has flown by. Today I begin my 27th year and the last day here in Harrismith. Most of our days in the last couple of weeks have included jaunts into QwaQwa, walking around the villages and getting to know the people. Our guide and interpreter was a man by the name of Pastor Abram and he is the sweetest and jolliest African man you may ever meet.
With Abram as our guide, we were invited into many homes and were honored to hear the stories of many incredible people. One afternoon we were walking through the village when we heard someone yelling for us. It was an older looking man sitting in front of his house. We almost passed him by, but he was adamant that we come say hello (the Bosotho people are very relational). We sat down at his feet and began to talk. There were stories in his wrinkles. As it turned out, he was 82 years old and had 82 years worth of stories to tell. He was 11 during the Second World War and experienced the beginning and end of Apartheid here in South Africa. He told us how much simpler life was before technology and how people were happy with what they had. He told us how he worked on a farm where the owner kept your identification papers and controlled where you went until you decided to leave your livelihood. He told us the secret to love was loyalty and commitment and that was how he and his wife who had passed away six years ago stayed married for 64 years.
We listened.
It didn’t feel like “ministry”. If anything, it felt like we were the ones being ministered to. After a while, he asked our story and we told him. We started talking about God and the problem with the church and society. His grandson (his 13th out of 17) came home from school and shyly smiled, listening in the background. At one point, we got around to Jesus. It wasn’t forced or rushed, it just came up. My teammate, an artist, used an illustration that she’s pretty sure she got from some cheesy 80’s tract to explain without words (pictures are a universal language) the point of the gospel. A bit later, when we were thinking about getting back to our host, the old man whose name I cannot pronounce asked us to pray with him to know Jesus as a savior and friend.
As we sat in his living room and he spoke out beautiful words in his beautiful language, his grandson repeated and copied his every word with his hand on his heart.
Sometimes I think the best way to be a missionary is to just be yourself and listen. That’s probably just the best way to be a person, too.
Another day, our team encountered a young man of about 18 who had a dream from an ancestor telling him he must be a witchdoctor, but he wasn’t so sure about following the career path that he felt he must do to appease his ancestral spirits. He was talking about his life and had never heard of much of the Bible or Jesus, but was intrigued at white people showing up at his door to hear and pray for his struggles. He said he wanted to know more about our God and forgiveness and the things that are with Christ. When we came back to give him a Bible of his own, of which he was ecstatic, his family didn’t look us in the eye.
We encountered many people over the last couple of weeks. So many stories of loss and heartbreak. Some hearing and giving their lives over to Redemption for the first time. Some left confused by crazy white people from America talking about guacamole and burritos (guilty). But the last couple of weeks were a gift. The children we were able to love with western affection and silly games, the women we were able to encourage with girl-power from Jesus, and the families who were just happy to have some western strangers just give a crap all added something to us as we left. It was a gift, just in time for my golden birthday.
Last week, we also got to go to a lion sanctuary. They are all loved and well taken care of here. White lions, pregnant lions, angry lions, baby lions, and lions in trees were all there to greet us. There was one incident that stuck out and stayed with me for a while.
A pair of white lions lay less than 6 feet away from us. A flimsy fence separates us from the male with a quaffed mane protecting his pregnant lady lion who is greeting us with a low growl. The lion-whisperer gets close to the fence and runs her water bottle along it. In a flash the male roars and pounces, then stops just short of the fence. Completely stops. Thank God.
With damper drawers, I asked “couldn’t he easily have taken down the fence?” The lion whisperer answered: “He’s very powerful, so very easily. He just doesn’t believe it, so it keeps him inside.”
I get it, lion. I get it.
How many of us allow the fences in our lives to keep us in confinement? How many people do we allow to hold us hostage because we don’t realize our power? This isn’t just spiritual power or the power we have in Christ, either. What about the power of opportunity that comes with living in the affluent western world?
I thought about the fences in my life that I’ve let hold me back. Circumstance, feelings of inadequacy, money, how people perceive me, expectations, disappointments. The list goes on and we all build our own fences with our own materials. The enemy likes to highlight our fences and keep our focus on what they are made out of. He likes to make us think that we are weak and sickly kittens who can’t ever get out of captivity and survive in the wild. How much different would our lives be if we realized our power- the power of the One who lives in us? Our heart houses a Mighty Lion who can tear down fences with one powerful swipe of the powerful paw. That power is in us at this very moment. Now let me hear you roar!
I hope to see everyone in the wild when I get home. We were born free, free as the wind blows- it’s time to live it. Break down your fences and run! And when you get stuck, call upon the Mighty Lion within you and call upon your lion pals to help you out. Maybe together we can all lend a paw to some fence demolition.
Tomorrow my team leaves for another leadership development weekend in a semi-ghetto (apparently) beach town called Durban. After three days, the whole squad will head to Swaziland to begin ministry. This month the men will all be together at a separate ministry site and (God help us all) all the women will be together at another ministry site. Please pray for us. Not only does this mean different teams, but it means about 44 women sharing a living space in 483837 degree heat.
Thank you so much for your prayers and support, everyone. 27 is great so far! Can’t wait to see you all!
Love,
