Alrighty, I will begin with the crazy arrangements God had made for us to be where we were and with whom we were. Our arrival into Dondo, Mozambique was met with joy, but significant misunderstanding. We came thinking we were staying there three weeks with ministry set up – they understood that we were there for three days and had no ministry set up for us.
However, this didn’t really seem to bother very many people on our teams. I feel like we have all come to realization that God has greater plans than our own. This was no exception. We met Herb, who invited us to go with him to Morrumbala to do food distribution outreaches at flood relief camps. What’s crazy about all this is that Herb wasn’t really supposed to be in Dondo; it was because many things on his end hadn’t gone as planned, so he stopped in Dondo for a few days on his way to Morrumbala. God had some really good reasons to bring us all together, and his method came through spoiled plans. It’s beautiful really. :-).
The first night Herb comes to talk to us about what we would be doing in Morrumbala, he very straightforwardly states that we will be praying for the sick and seeing them healed, and if God directs, we will pray for the dead to rise. The faith that radiates off of him sparks my spirit in a new way, and I become even more excited for all that lay ahead.
The road to Morrumbala is long – a flatbed truck with 23 people and all of our luggage through the cold night air. The one immensely redemptive aspect of this drive is the phenomenal night sky boasting millions of stars above us. It is a new sky to me, south of the equator -the South Cross on one side and the Big Dipper still shining, huge and low on the horizon.
I spend a good deal of my time worshipping the Lord and praying during the trip because communication is limited due to wind, positions and the attempts of others to sleep. I ask the Lord to speak to me, and grow me in Him in the coming weeks, knowing deeply in my spirit that this is a prayer already answered. I know Mozambique is pivotal, though without any certain expectations about it. I am hungry. I am crying to be more hungry. I want my life to be different; I want to fall more in love with Jesus.
We are at the first outreach. It feels, and is, different than the outreaches we have done in the past months and countries, though I am not sure why. The local crew of young adults play some fun national music, dancing and glorifying God, while drawing a crowd. We dance with them, and reveal how very white we all are next to all of them.
Toward the end of the music, we gather as a team to pray with Herb, who is still mostly unknown by most of us. He asks who has prayed for the sick and seen them healed before. Only two raised their hands, so they prayed for the rest of us that we would walk in the gift of healing that night.
After Chad preaches, Herb calls us out to the mosh pit of people gathered, waiting for healing. I have to admit, I am overwhelmed. What do I know about this? I am somewhat ashamed to realize that I haven’t prayed for the sick yet on this trip. So I start. My heart breaks and I begin crying, for more reasons that I can sort out till later. I feel broken for these people who have nothing, and suffer with issues I can deal with simply at home. I cry because I feel helpless to help these people. I lay my hands on crying babies with fevers, open sores, people with headaches and have no idea if they are better or not, because I can’t communicate with them.
Together as we pray, Amy and I feel lost. Herb stops by, asks how we are doing, tells us to believe that if people say they are better then they are, and he gives us an elderly man to pray for. “This is a good test-able case. He has back pain, can’t touch his feet. Pray for him, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He takes off leaving Amy and I to pray for this man’s healing. We pray for a few minutes, then ask how he is doing…better, but not healed. We pray again. Same thing. Amy and I look at each other, and shrug. “I guess we just keep going.” We pray again, and then he bends over, touches his toes and says he has no more pain. He walks away without another word.
I struggle with whether or not he was healed. But he was! He was doing, without pain, what he couldn’t do before! He was healed. We are encouraged, knowing that the Holy Spirit IS working through our hands and prayers to touch the lives of others.
This experience leads to a training meeting with Herb the following night on healing prayer and deliverance. As he shares more about all this, and his relationship with the Father, Jesus and the Holy Spirit, I can feel a holy jealousy rising up in me. I have been familiar with the gifts of the Holy Spirit – healing, the prophetic gifts, speaking in tongues. I actively walked in these giftings when I was in school in Kansas City, but have let them go dormant in the last few years.
Since the beginning of the Race, I have felt an awakening, but this is certainly a breakthrough point for me. From this night onward, I live with an indescribable sense of anticipation – my stomach has butterflies, but I know that it is actually in my spirit, not so much in my stomach, that this lies. I can only think to worship my Lord, so I dance, since I can’t sleep. I can’t wait to see what my God will do next.
I dance each night in the ’round room,’ my IPOD playing, just dancing my heart out to my King, my Beloved Jesus. This worship is the only thing that satisfies me right now. I have no thought of anyone else, they are in bed, and even if they were up, I have no care at this point whether anyone sees me. I only know I am pleasing to the eyes of my God. He is pleased with me.
