The most incredible day of our January went like this. Last Thursday, my team was doing village ministry (you know, when we go door to door looking for young mothers for a food program, and we visit and pray with them). We were in a residential area behind the park in Talanga trying to find the place we had left off the day before. We finally found Marta’s house (see my previous post; she was the woman who gave us coffee and whose daughter got a massage from Kori), and continued down her street to the next house.
We knocked at the door. “Buenos!” I called. I heard a voice from inside. “Tenemos preguntas para ti,” I said. We have questions for you. A moment later, the door opened slightly and a woman’s face appeared. When she saw us, her eyes opened wide and she immediately invited us in. We sat down in her front room, and she said we were pretty and looked like dolls. Her daughter Jackie was out on an errand but would be back soon, and in the meantime she was keeping an eye on Jackie’s baby, Brittany. Cristina told us a little about their situation: Brittany’s father left the family, leaving Jackie and Cristina to scrape together money to support the baby. Soon, Jackie, age 22, walked in the door and we met her too and we took down her information.
After that, we chatted some more and sang Open the Eyes of My Heart for them in Spanish. Instead of the awkward pause that usually ensues after we do this, Jackie and Cristina wanted to sing a song for us too. They told us to stand and close our eyes, and then they sang Psalm 23 (“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”), which was a beautiful blessing. Very few people have shared music with us. We gathered to pray before moving to the next house, Cristina, Brittany, and Jackie in the middle, and thanked God for their family and hospitality and asked Him to keep providing for them and caring for them, in Jesus’ name.
My hand was on Jackie’s arm as we prayed, and I noticed it was trembling slightly. I assumed it was one of those things that always happened when she prayed. But the trembling was getting stronger and soon Jackie was shaking violently and there was sweat on the back of her neck. I looked at my team. Someone asked Jackie how she felt.
“Good,” she said. Her eyes were closed and her brows were furrowed. She looked tense, and something wasn’t right. There was an eerie feeling in the room, like something nasty was with us. We asked if she was sensing anything else, and she shook her head, but didn’t say anything.
“This is not from the Lord,” someone said. “Keep praying.” So we did. We prayed with Jackie for I couldn’t tell you how long, saying I don’t remember what. Different team members sensed different things, whether they were issues we needed to bring up like abuse or depression, or scriptures to read. We asked Jesus to show her how much he loved her, to release her from past traumas, to give her rest. Jackie kept shaking and sweating. The loudest thought in my mind was simply: do not stop. Do not leave, do not stop praying for this woman, do not give up until this shaking ceases. The atmosphere was tense and spooky, but I didn’t feel fear. I just really didn’t want to leave.
It was when we began reading Bible verses over Jackie that she grew still. Whatever presence that was with her seemed to be dissipating. Suddenly, her face relaxed completely and she rested her head on someone’s shoulder. It looked like she was sleeping.
Nicole wanted to sit down and hold Jackie like a baby, which sounded awkward since the two women were the same size. But Nicole had her sit on her lap and she held her, and she said she couldn’t even feel the weight: they must have sat for a half hour like that. We kept praying for her, particularly for peace and rest and good sleep. We got the sense that she hadn’t been sleeping well and prayed in her room and bed, and anointed her pillow with oil.
When she finally got up, Jackie looked refreshed, and calm. She and her mother Cristina and our team started hugging each other and laughing. Whatever it was in Jackie that started shaking her when we prayed over her and said Jesus’ powerful name had clearly gone. Gone was the spookiness, the confusion, the distress. Everything that had felt not right had been replaced with peace. I was experiencing what I guess you could call grounded-ness: my feet felt like they were on solid ground, and everything felt calm and clear around me. I was also experiencing hunger. All of us were. Praying like that works up an appetite.
We wanted to sing one more song for the women, but Jackie stopped us. She would sing for us again. We stood and closed our eyes, and she sang a beautiful song I’d never heard and couldn’t understand.
When we said our final goodbyes, I gave Cristina a hug and kissed her forehead, and she grabbed my hands and squeezed them tightly, and stared hard at me with her bright eyes and runny eyeliner. She said something, and Nicole tried to translate quickly:
“She feels like she needs to hold your hands, she doesn’t know why, something about the face of God…” Cristina kept talking, and she was crying, and I started crying too. Our heads bumped together as they bowed toward each other, and she just kept holding my hands so tight. We looked at each other for a long time, and she held my face in her hands and spoke more.
I can’t get her face out of my head. She had long, shiny black hair pulled into a low ponytail and a tan, wrinkled face. Her eyes were bright and her black eyeliner slid down to her lower lashes and smudged with tears. She smiled and stared hard at me. In her strong grip and intentional gaze, I felt singled out and loved. In that grandmother’s loving face, I saw God’s loving face, seeing me, caring for me, happy to be with me.
Nicole later told us that Cristina was saying the most beautiful things to us. That they had been discouraged, that Jackie had been struggling with post-partum depression, and that she knew instantly when we met that we were the good guys. She said that we were sent by God, and that our presence was more than they dared hope for. She said we were exactly what they needed, and we had encouraged them and helped Jackie find freedom and healing by praying with her and letting Jesus deal with her demons. She said it was like she’d seen God’s face.
Well, it went both ways. I didn’t expect to see a woman delivered from depression and restlessness and lies. And though I should always be expecting it, I certainly didn’t expect to profoundly experience God’s love for me in a single glance from a woman I just met. I rejoice that we were able to be Jesus to these people, and I rejoice because these people were also Jesus to us. Because when someone communicates the majesty of God’s love for you, afflictions melt.
