It was in a village near Kampala that our door to door began. I am not one who is known for my evangelism skills, and that might be an overstatement. That is just not an area I excel in, and thus far in my life, have not desired to. My ministry has always leaned toward children, more like infants and toddlers. I thrive when my ministry is simply to provide love. Be it a smile, a hug, a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, someone to walk with. Whatever it is, as long as it’s love.
I’ve never been one to talk much. Well, unless you consider the many years in grade school where on a weekly basis my parents were notified of my talking, which never failed to disrupt class. But really, ask around, I am quiet. I like to consider myself a social introvert. I am independent, quite, and enjoy being that way. But when needed or desired, I can be social. Just don’t count on that to happen to often. I’ve learned recently this is a main reason street evangelism is not my ideal ministry. It requires talking, and a lot of it.
So after a few home visits, ducking under clothes lines, jumping ditches in the road, we came to what appeared to be a local hangout video/music store. There were a few teenage boys in the doorway when Ken, our contact, decided we would check it out. There were many small children outside the store that had already caught Bethany and my attention. Nicole and Ken headed up the few stairs ahead of us, which is when we all met Dickens.
Dickens was a cocky fifteen-year-old boy, thinking he knew everything that one could know in this world. When we introduced ourselves and asked if we could pray for anything, things switched a bit. Instead of the typical yes, we got a finger pointed and quite a few laughs, as well as the statement, “You are Protestants aren’t you!?” With a few more laughs towards us, we went on to explain that we are Christians who believe in God as our everything. After a few more lines thrown at us, climate changed. In response to something Dickens said to Ken, Ken took his hands and said something along the lines of “Don’t you ever laugh at those coming in the name of God. That is a commandment, to never use the Lord’s name in vain. Do you understand?” First of all, this just wouldn’t fly at home. Not only that, but you wouldn’t even get another blink of an eye from that person before they left. Instead we got about fifteen minutes of Dickens attention.
After asking Dickens to take a walk with us and talk about God, he came with no issues. Things were said, questions were asked, and in the end, the impossible happened. That cocky, fifteen year old, finger pointing, laughing in your face boy became a child of God. He accepted Christ as his savior in the dirt corner between a shop and a shack.
So when I think about how few words I tend to use in a day, or how anti-social people think I am, its these moments that remind me it really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if I say the least in that group of us. It doesn’t matter if I smile instead of use words. It doesn’t matter if I let someone else counter argue something. All that matters is that I obey God, wherever He calls, whenever he calls, and to whomever He says.
This is why I am doing what I am doing.
For children like this.
For people like this.
For the ONE.
