Hey folks, it’s Alex, and I’m writing now about Moçambique.
Moçambique was an interesting month for us. In rural Lesotho, there were many people that lived on very little, getting by on a simple agricultural life. There was a strong sense of community in the villages, and it seemed that everyone was at least taken care of. Moçambique was a different story.
We spent our mornings walking through different villages, visiting families that our host had come to know, checking in on them and praying for them. It was less rural here; there was a main paved street with a lot of cinderblock buildings. In retrospect it looked a lot like a dusty wild west town with just one road going through the middle. Most villages (i.e. neighborhoods) surrounding the town were still majority stick n’ mud huts, but they at least had power. There was actual infrastructure here; a hospital, municipal buildings, a prison, etc.
But the people here were truly poor. It was different from a people living a rural life, or just living in a developing country. There were people that didn’t have enough to eat everyday. In Lesotho, people lived happily with what little they had. Here, people didn’t have enough. They were in a severe draught, and crops were failing badly. You had to wash your feet everyday after being out because of how dusty it was everywhere (Also because of the possibility of Mango Flies, look those up if you want to be grossed out).
But a mere three years ago it was quite different. In 2013 our host was severely burned from harsh sunlight reflecting off his tin roof, which he lived on for several days because floodwaters were about eight feet high. Paved roads had been literally washed away in places and unpaved roads disappered entirely.
And unfortunately, in times of flood and draught, the people are (Except for the occasional NPO) mostly left to themselves. The government is corrupt on every level, down to traffic cops demanding bribes to let you off of a bogus ticket.
And yet, I’ve never seen more hopeful church gatherings than in this poor town in Moçambique. I’ve had a few refreshing church services this year that were in English, and it was nice to able to understand everything. But even those services where I could understand them weren’t quite the same these people’s services.
There’s something to be said for “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding”. I’ve been in American church services in exquisite buildings with impressive production value that were absolutely dry. In such places something like “the joy of the Lord” would sound tired, hackneyed, or even quaint. But here it was one of their absolute truths. It was immutable and undeniable. I’ve never experienced anything fresher or more exciting.
The Lord does not show partiality to our beautiful buildings, or our expensive sound equipment. He searches much deeper than that; “the Lord looks at the heart”.
