Honestly, the thought of evangelism scared me. I didn’t really know what to expect would happen when a group of white Americans were sent into an African community with the directions “make friends and tell them about Jesus”. I didn’t know what words to use or which direction to walk and the first day of ministry this month, I let that uncertainty lead me. But then I met Rebecca.
My team and I were walking down a dirt road trying to decide which way to go next when we noticed a woman waving at us from her front porch. When we walked up to her I noticed she had a cane sitting next to her and noticed she was most likely in her 70s. She invited us to sit down with her and we just began talking to her, just like old friends would. We asked her how her day had been and about her family. We learned she had 4 kids and many grandchildren (we could never get an exact number). We asked her if she went to church and she shared that she used to go to a church but has been unable to get there for the last four years. Four years ago Rebecca had fallen and broken her hip and since then, walking had been a near impossible task. When we asked if we could pray for her she agreed and my team and I laid our hands on her and asked for complete healing.
I had never doubted God could heal through our prayers but I had never seen it for myself so it felt like I was asking God for a miracle. We finished our prayer and asked how she felt and she said the same. Dang. I thought I was going to see a miraculous recovery and Rebecca would starting jumping and praising Jesus. We could have let ourselves feel that defeat but we didn’t. We asked if we could pray again. But before she said yes she asked if her grandson, Kingsley, could join us in prayer also. I believe in the power of community so obviously he was welcomed.
This prayer felt different. I prayed harder than I ever had before. I prayed that she would be healed physically but also that her heart would be open to receive His divine healing. Then I prayed for me, that no matter what happened, I would still believe that He is good and this is His plan.
We said amen and again asked Rebecca how she felt. She looked at us and said “I want to walk”.
Kingsley helped his grandmother up and held her free hand and took a step. I have to admit, I held my breath in anticipation. And she took one step, then another. It wasn’t fast and it wasn’t a large step but it was a step forward. As Rebecca watched her own feet, she began to smile from ear to ear. She knew something was different. I felt my smile match hers and I made eye contact with Kingsley. I asked if this was how she normally walked and he said no, that something was indeed different.
Rebecca walked along her house and turned around to take another lap. All of us were standing there with the biggest grins you can imagine. I had never stood around an elderly woman stumbling around and tear up but I guess there is a first time for everything.
With every step her confidence grew. Not only in herself but in God. She kept saying “praise God” and “thanks to God” as she walked. She thanked us for what we had done but we knew the thanks and praise belonged to Jesus. He is the One who healed her and we were just the vessels. Jesus didn’t need me to make Rebecca walk but invited me into the space and into the miracle. God doesn’t need us to do His works but He loves us so much to want us to do His work. That day, He let me play a small part in Rebecca’s story that He has already so perfectly written.
So praise God indeed. Praise God for making the lame walk. Praise God for answering prayer. Praise God for taking a confused, uncertain girl like me and writing me into the story of His beautiful daughter Rebecca.
