I’ve heard stories about Africa. Stories from World Racers who saw crazy things in the spiritual realm, from demonic activity to miracles and supernatural healing. Stories of pastors and churches and energetic (as well as lengthy) worship services. Today, our second day here in Moroboro, Tanzania, I got to live my own story.
I had no idea of the adventure that was in store when I agreed to go with Hugh and Pastor Agnell to the Immigration office this morning. All I knew was that we needed to turn in the passport info for everyone on our team so that we would be allowed to stay and do work here this month.
We set off walking down the dirt road outside our house, and within ten minutes had arrived at an HIV clinic where the pastor began talking to a woman in animated Swahili. Hugh noticed a woman with a baby standing in the room next to us and went in to make friends, so I followed. As soon as we walked in, I saw a girl lying on the floor against the wall. She looked straight at me and said, “Hi!” and then told me, “My stomach hurts.” I squatted down next to her, immediately sensing that she was in a lot of pain. Hugh got down with me and we asked if we could pray for her. He prayed first, and then I began to pray and the girl started convulsing on the floor and shouted out, “Get away from me!” I kept praying as she lay down with her head hidden between my legs and the wall, knowing nothing to do other than call on Jesus’ name in that moment, and then the pastor told us it was time to go. What?! I was completely stunned and caught off guard by what was happening… all within 15 minutes of leaving the house! As I moved back a bit, halfway unwilling to get up and walk away, the girl sat up and asked me who I was, a blank look on her face. We had introduced ourselves only minutes before and she seemed to have completely forgotten us.
“I’m your friend,” I told her, wishing so badly that I could do more, that I could understand what was going on and know how to help her. Instead, I was forced to stand up and walk away, overwhelmed by what I had just witnessed. I could only think to myself, “Where am I???”
A few minutes later, I found myself on the back of an African’s motorcycle, holding on for dear life as we bounced over the rut-filled dirt road headed toward town. He introduced himself as John and chatted with me in English as the breeze rushed by and I felt the exhilaration of that moment. In response to his questions, I got to share with him about being a missionary and what it is that has brought me to Tanzania.
The process at the Immigration office was much more complicated and difficult than we expected, and we hopped onto a new trio of motorcycles to come back to the house for lunch, then headed out again, this time with everyone’s passports. They didn’t want to make anything too easy for us, so Hugh and I got plenty of time to chat with Pastor Agnell while we sat and waited at the office. He was eager to learn more about America and the church there. Then he began to tell us what he had heard.
“They’ve told me that America is like heaven. It is always bright there and never gets dark because there are so many lights. There are good roads everywhere.” At first I laughed, and then realized that he was dead serious. I could not even reply because the weight of his words and his perspective hit me so hard. This is a man who has never seen a coke machine in his life. A man who can only dream of what it would be like to have the kind of wealth that I see every day at home. A man who is passionate about the Lord, and yet is confused when we try to explain that people in the U.S. are not happy because money cannot make anyone happy. It is too great a jump for him to be able to fathom what it would be like to live in a place like America, where everything is beautiful and sparkling and full of promise.
I wish I had better words to express the degree of humility I felt in that moment. Earlier this morning, I watched Pastor Agnell’s niece, Consalva. Before some of us had even gotten out of bed, she had cleaned the bathroom, heated water for coffee, brought out our breakfast, and scrubbed the entire floor with a bucket of water and tattered rag, bending from the waist to clean it to spotless submission. Now, I was looking into the face of a man 30 years my senior that expressed absolute awe and wonder at the stories he had heard of the place I’ve lived my entire life. If he comes to America one day as he hopes to, I wonder what his reaction will be. I wonder what my reaction will be in three months from now, after living among these people who are so full of life and vibrancy, yet live so simply by our standards in the U.S.
“How would you compare your country to ours?” Pastor Agnell asked us. I was at a loss to know where to begin. Hugh told him that people here have more joy, and I had to agree. Then I began to think about all that I had just witnessed in one morning. Opportunities to pray and encounters that jumped into our path without us even looking for them. The sense that we are only going to see more – the very presence of Jesus in us is stirring things up here and there will be a response to it!
“Nothing here is hidden,” I told him. “The spiritual realm is reality. In America, so much of Satan’s work is under the surface and no one acknowledges it or sees it. Christians are hidden too. They don’t speak out – often they are ashamed and hide their faith.”
I don’t know if I will be able to convince him that America is not heaven at all. In reality, I feel closer to heaven here. The Spirit is at work, stirring up my heart and the hearts of my teammates. We are entering battle. Unconcealed, open, and intense warfare. Pray that we are dressed in the full armor of God, ready to fight! Pray that our hearts and minds are focused on the eternal and that we are not afraid to get dirty (literally and figuratively).
Our God is greater!
