Hello! It’s me again! I’m excited to share with you about one of the many personal stories I have from my time in Malaysia so far:
The other night, we had street outreach, where we are sent out into small groups to walk around, meet people, make friends, and share the love of Jesus. The following is from my journal:
“Today, I prayed for a dead man to sit up. We were told to go to the nearby food court, but stopped in our tracks at the sound of drums in the distance. They drew us in enough to change our direction completely. We had to see them! Curiously approaching, we were taken aback by the volume. There were two expressionless men drumming intensely under a large pavilion. Gathered around in chairs were different families sitting in groups. I noticed many stares, but didn’t think much of it because we usually appear quite obviously out of place. I began to feel discouraged as my huge smile didn’t seem to be received or returned by anyone I passed. Very quickly, I was humbled and felt like a disrespectful dummy as I began to understand what was happening around me. As we meandered our way out of the scene, my lagging brain pieced together what I saw…a white, smoky room with incense burning, a large photo of a man, flowers all around—IT WAS A FUNERAL! Yes. My very white, freckled, oblivious self walked through an Indian family’s funeral gathering smiling like a fool. I couldn’t believe that what had caught our attention was Hindu traditions that take place after someone passes. I was immediately so embarrassed and sorry for the events that had taken place, but my group agreed that there is grace. We decided we should head back to the route we were initially targeted on. After only walking a bit, our leader Cal pulled us aside and said, “hypothetically, if Jesus asked you to pray for a dead man to rise, would you?” Our natural and disbelieving laughter quieted as Cal’s face confirmed the reality that this was not a “hypothetical.” Suddenly serious, we took a second to ask God about it. Immediately upon closing my eyes, God said a simple “yep” and showed me a picture of us all kneeling in prayer. The decision was unanimous, and by the crazy holy spirit, I was lifted into a strong faith as we turned around to walk back. I very vividly remember the adrenaline rush that came from knowing that God was about to do something big—not from nerves. This time, the drums had stopped. The stares continued, but Cal very respectfully asked if we could enter and pray in the room where everyone was paying their respects. The woman at the door nodded somberly, and that was our queue to slip off our shoes. Each of us gathered around the casket on our knees and prayed to ourselves. I shifted my focus from the eyes staring us down to intense communication with God. I know something was happening in that moment. I felt something in my spirit lifting as I prayed with all my strength and my hand outstretched on the light wood. As we prayed, I felt the strong incense burning my throat, and noticed people beside me coming up and laying flowers. The flowers covered his entire body except his face. Just as swiftly as we had entered, we left. I felt a bit dizzy after what had just happened, and we talked as we got further away. Almost like a scene from a movie, the drums began playing again—what an exit! Every aspect of the night was so intricately designed and carried out by God. He even framed it all with drums! My group and I were simply awestruck of what just happened. Cal encouraged us that the bold obedience we demonstrated which led to such a radical and powerful encounter gives God so much room to move in the future. I mean, if we told Him yes that we would pray for a dead man to rise, imagine what else He might call us to do! We talked about how we felt and agreed that we don’t know what we would’ve done if the man had sat up. I think God knew the night was intense, so to wrap it all up He gave us a sweet conversation at the park with a family on a picnic blanket. There, we got to share with a kind woman about the trip we are on, and hear about her favorite parts of Malaysia. On our walk back, we admired the foggy moon and beautiful night around us. When we met up for debriefing the night, we shared with the group what we did, and also had worship. Of course, God sealed the whole experience with the perfect touch of relevant songs…
“death was arrested and my life began”
“up from the ashes, the king is alive”
“our buried bodies began to breathe”
“out of the silence, the roaring lion declared the grave has no hold on me”
I am still in shock of the power of God, prayer, and obedience. What. A. Night.”
I know that this story is probably a bit controversial. Honestly, I am so hesitant to even post this because I know that no matter how hard I try, the night could not be captured by my words. What has swayed me is that I have experienced the power of sharing testimonies, and I wouldn’t want my reputation or pride to be in the way of what makes an impact on someone. I think following Christ—really following Him—makes you look crazy sometimes. I still don’t know what God’s plan for that night was. I don’t know what happened after we left. I don’t know if our praying was for all the people watching, the man, or our own faith. All I know is that God certainly raised something that night, and from me it was a hallelujah!
I am incredibly thankful to all who keep up with my world race, and for all who helped me get here. Malaysia is wonderful and I am learning daily.
Much love,
Lexi Hatten 🙂
