Imagine this:
You’re in an unfamiliar country, with an unfamiliar language and unfamiliar culture. Your team prays and feels led to go to an international church to try to make some connections within the community. Your friends meet an international woman who says she is part of a ministry about 1.5 hrs outside of the main city where you’re staying. She is excited when your team expresses interest in helping out however possible. This woman is leaving town, but says she will help arrange a time for your team to do ministry and offers you her home in the village where you’ll be staying. Next thing you know, you and your team are praying for, and planning a women’s event for 13 women and about 30 of their kids.
Over the next few days your team gathers all the necessary food and supplies for the event and before you know it, your catching a taxi to the bus station. When you get to the station and finally figure out which bus to get on, you climb into the crowded bus and squeeze into your seat. For the next hour and a half, you feel the breeze from the drivers cracked window slowly change from chilly to cold and watch as the smoke from his cigarette escapes into the beautiful landscape outside. The city is gone now, as you travel over long stretches of winding roads, scattered with puddles of water and patches of ice. You pass through many villages, each one totally different from the one before it. Some with large, multi-level homes and driveways, and others with tin roofs and dirt roads. The clouds in the distance begin to take shape and slowly they turn into mountains. The farther you drive the more mountains become visible, and suddenly they are on all sides. The bus slows to a stop and your driver tells you that this is where you need to get off. Quickly, you grab your things and jump out of the van, thankful that you have boots as your feet land in a small pile of snow.
The bus drives away and there you stand, on the side of the road, with your friends. All you know, is that the woman you met at church said that a contact would meet you here. (At least you hope it’s here!) You wait for a while, double checking all the messages, making sure you’re in the right place. Across the road, there is an entrance to a small village, but it is quiet. You walk over to investigate, but aside from a few cars that pass by, there is not much indicating where you are, or where your contact is.
Just a little while later, you see a woman walking down toward the road. She waves, and as she comes closer, greets you warmly, and motions for you to follow. You walk with her, communicating as best you are able, asking her name, and about her family— two daughters and a son. She apologizes for her broken English, but you assure her that it is much better than your total lack of her language. She shows you to your home for the night, a small “temporary home” built by foreigners, over 30 years ago, after a natural disaster occurred, devastatingly causing thousands of deaths and widespread destruction.
When you arrive at the house, you drop your things, take off your coats and sit, at her instruction.
She offers you tea to go with the spread of dried fruits and chocolates which had been thoughtfully placed on the coffee table. She explains everything from the water (the pipes from the well had frozen, so she had filled buckets with water for us for the night), to the toilet (often not as obvious of an explanation as you might think), to the sleeping arrangements. No sooner than she finally sits down with you, three more people arrive. These are the people who are meant to translate for you to the women at the event. Quick introductions are made, but given that there are only hours before the event, your team dives into explaining the vision for the night, giving some context for the translators.
The whole crew now ventures outside again to begin preparing the other buildings— one small space with some seating and an old piano, will house all of the children, and one smaller space with a few couches, some extra chairs, and a coffee table for the women. You begin setting up the decorations, food, drinks, and gifts. Your new friend and host assists with the preparation, answering any questions and solving any issues that arise. She’s amazing!
One woman arrives, and then many all at once, as the room quickly fills with laughter, and kisses on both cheeks. You learn quickly how to say hello, and exactly how many kisses are expected on each cheek. Seats are taken and hot drinks are served.
Your heart beats fast as your eyes try to take everything in. These women… these hearts… these lives that have suddenly become intertwined with your own. These are the women you and your team have been praying for. These are the ears that are willingly and eagerly listening for what you have to share. But what words can you speak?
You planned, you rehearsed, but no preparation could truly make you ready for what is about to happen. The women sitting in front of you and around you have stories that you can never fully relate to. They have seen, felt and experienced things that someone who hasn’t seen, felt and experienced could never know. But here they are…waiting. But this event is to tell these beautiful women about the invitation that God has already extended— that they have an anointing, a purpose. That God offers joy for mourning, praise instead of despair, a crown of beauty for ashes. To tell them about the freedom that comes from forgiveness, and the power that comes from believing who God has said that they are. The pressure’s off. Let’s go.
Your teammate steps forward to pioneer the evening, by pouring out a portion of her story and her soul, baring her heart courageously before a small crowd of tearing eyes and broken hearts. You watch from behind, in the adjoining kitchen, because the main room is packed. Another teammate is in the same room, knees and head to the kitchen floor, interceding in prayer. The woman who welcomed you, now a sweet friend, begins to weep. The hand over her face will not hide the depth of what she is experiencing. Something intangible, something heavy, something she wasn’t expecting. The friend interceding, stands up from the floor to embrace our sweet friend. It’s not that you didn’t expect God to move, but what is happening? The night almost feels like a blur, but every moment is rich. Story after story shared, word after word, gaze after gaze, they all carry more than just emotion.
_ _ _
There was a transformation happening before our eyes— Hope had entered the room. Scars and wounds were being uncovered by Truth, as vulnerability opened door after door. Pain wasted no time in making it’s voice heard, but the Healer heard its cry and rushed in right away. These women, who have maybe never shared their stories with each other, were experiencing the power of God’s word, and the power of community. I led an activity where the women paused for some time and asked God to speak to them about their worth. I asked them to write down what he was saying, or draw or paint a picture of what he was speaking to them. Afterwards, they had an opportunity, if they wanted to, to share about what they had received. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but as I looked around the room and saw poems written, beautiful pictures and tearful conversations, I knew that God had spoken to them.
Why am I always so surprised? Why do I always doubt? I guess I’m a bit like Thomas in the Bible a lot of ways— “Yes, I know I’ve walked with you Lord. I believe you are who you say you are, and that what you say is actually true. After all, you’ve never failed, you’ve never been wrong. You’ve been nothing but loving and kind to me, and I have seen wonders and miracles at your doing. But… If you could just prove yourself again…” And he does.
God had just taken me through this whole journey (maybe I even reached out to a few of you) in preparation for this presentation. He showed me so much about my worth, and why on earth he counts me as worthy. And now, even though I had barely grasped the hem of this revelation, he was willing to use me as a conduit, a vessel to bring the same message he spoke to me to these women.
This was just one perspective of just a few hours of just one day spent, and not even comprehensive at that. I didn’t even mention the Bible story shared, the women’s stories themselves, the time of worship, all the funny little stories, the kids ministry, my team’s personal experiences or even about the meal we had with the family we spent the night with. But in a million years would I have never imagined everything that happened that night. What could the Lord be wanting to experience with you?
Imagine this… you pause for a moment now and ask him: “Hey God… what do you want to do today?” And go for it.
