27 years. 8,607 miles. Houston–> Cape Town. Last Wednesday, January 27, I found my purpose in a high school classroom.
Upon our excruciating arrival to the Western Cape several weeks ago via a 17 hour bus ride, I was flooded with relief that I finally was on this long-awaited adventure; the World Race. In the year or so of pre-planning it never crossed my mind that I could potentially have a single male ministry contact on the field. The assumption stood firm; a woman or no ministry. Well, it wasn’t a pleasant surprise when I heard that we’d not only live with one male, but three for month one. John, our ministry host, is a single father of two, and we were his first WR team. This should have been an honour, but at the time it wasn’t. Fear crept in. Fear had a source; sexual abuse. I was sexually abused in elementary school, and the lingering effects never disappeared but infiltrated every part of my adulthood. There was also an additional dilemma; entrusting six women that I barely knew with this part of my story.
This month proved to be a challenge already and despite if I was ready or not; it greeted me with a cold welcome. I knew that regardless of the hat we’d wear during ministry that I would be the one the Good News would be shared with; the Lord nominated me to be ministered to. He knew that I couldn’t continue on the Race without sharing an invaluable nugget that I’d missed out on more than half of my 27 years of life; a love from an earthly father that reflected His unconditional love. His timing is perfect;” for there is a proper time and procedure for every matter, though a person may be weighed down by misery.” Ecclesiastes 8:6 He chose 8,607 miles, the continent of Africa, a coloured man, several high school students, and multiple stories of brokenness to show me the Father’s love in physical form. He made no mistakes, and every day he reminded that He is intentional with my life, and it would come full circle.
Throughout the course of the month, the team and I were given the opportunity to interrupt teacher’s agenda and publicly share and declare the name of Jesus with learners in school classroom settings all over the suburb of Retreat. We chose to speak about finding our identity in Christ, and the only way to do so is sharing our own personal struggles that led to surrendering our own life. I personally decided to withhold nothing because I physically gave it all up to set my feet on foreign land. The abuse it was, and the aftermath it created that led to a promiscuous lifestyle I pursued throughout high school and thereafter. Class after class shared their failure with us, but on January 27, the atmosphere shifted. Ali, a fellow teammate, and I were paired together with a tentative lesson plan, but we immediately felt the Holy Spirit shifting the environment; He had something greater in store for us than we asked for. We candidly shared the intimate parts of our testimonies that allowed us to see God’s children as He does. We met Nicole, a sophomore, that confided in us after class that she was raped in the hands of her cousin and to add assault to injury; her parents dismissed the confession. Nicole and I shared one thing in common; the feeing of betrayal and trust. I understood all too well her emotions, and in that moment it all made sense; I was here for her, yes, for Nicole. We heard the sound of Heaven touching Earth; He had not forgotten about Nicole because He sent her long-awaited “cousin” 8,607 miles to meet her face to face for the first time in 27 years to tell her about the Father’s love through her own story of molestation. Ali and I cried, prayed, encouraged, and re-positioned her in the Father’s hands. She’s His, and we are humbled that she was the one in the crowd that we came for. He purposed me to be the voice to the voiceless through Nicole; to be a vessel to women around the globe that have similar experiences. I’ve been told countless of times that I have a gift of communication, but what in the heck do I do what such a thing God?! As I write this, I have no clue, but I can’t keep my mouth shut that’s for sure because I want to see His Kingdom here. He is the name I will lift on high; the enemy will continue to attack and tell me otherwise, but He won’t prevail because Jesus did.
Daddy’s girl is back at His feet; God used an under-developed nation 8,607 miles away from home to show me the love He’s lavishly poured out onto me through John. He chose John because he was a willing vessel, and I’m so thankful that he did. The next twenty-four hours will be full of packing and preparing for debrief in Durban with the squad before we set out to Botswana. The hardest good-bye will be with John, but I leave a piece of heart where I picked up the purpose for my life. John, thank you for your obedience to the call of the Father; you, friend, are an atmosphere-shifter, and we were thrilled to have been chosen as your first of many teams. We love you and can’t wait to see you on American soil upon our return to the states.
** On a side note; I’m currently $1,500 away from the $13,000 deadline due February 29. I will be on a social media fast for an undetermined amount of time, but I will be blogging as much as I can given that internet is accessible. Please consider keeping on the field through a financial donation towards my deadline. I can’t make a difference with your help, so please know that I humbly accept what you give. You can support me through the support tab on the upper left hand side of this page.
xx- Denise
