It was sandy in the small town of Gokwe in Central Zimbabwe. We walked under the dry sun, down a small hill knocking on doors of one room shacks. We were encouraging the locals by preaching a short word and offering prayers and blessings over their houses.
Young kids covered in dirt and snot stopped their activities to stare wide eyed at us foreigners intruding on their small village. We attempted speaking their native tongue (Shona) which normally resulted in an explosion of laughter more often than a response. Once the shock had settled in they followed us and laughed any time we acknowledged their presence.
I sat down between two of the small houses and listened to a conversation of which I understood no words. I looked to my right and saw about ten kids sitting down barefoot staring at me and my friends, below me to my left was a large sand soccer field completely vacant. After lots of negotiation I was directed with some others inside a dark brick room where we found a man waking up from a nap.
I would come to learn that this mans name was Mr. Musa and he had been laying in this dark room for over two weeks. He was a shoe maker and one day after work he lost feeling in his legs and collapsed. They tried different remedies including a witch doctor and some medication but nothing was able to cure him.
After meeting this man, our host told him directly that God was going to heal him and he will come to church and share his testimony in front of the congregation in four days time. I sat on the cold ground, laid my hands on Mr. Musa’s legs and prayed out loud. I could barely hear myself over the chants and different languages all throughout the room. After the prayer, our hyped up African host (Pastor David) told Mr. Musa to stand up. Mr. Musa’s face got very serious and determined and his legs began to shake slightly as he carefully stood up, looking like his body was balancing on a couple of thin wooden planks.
The second day we came back and repeated the process from before. This time Mr. Musa even walked around a bit, and shuffled his feet along the cement floor and made his way outside. He was very cautious yet determined by Pastor David’s encouragement and bold prayers. Once we were outside Mr. Musa was rewarded with a break and was able to sit down in the shade on a homemade wooden bench that looked like a giant pawn from a chess board. After that Pastor David took off. He literally ran away and said he must find the local pastor and show him this miracle.
So I was alone in the small sand village with neighbors and kids staring at me from all directions. I looked at the kids and said what I always say to kids I can’t communicate with, “football?” A ball made from plastic bags tied in knots rolled out from the mass of kids toward my feet. I picked it up and punted it into the air up the hill and a couple of kids timidly got up to run after it, the rest just continued to look at me. They passed the ball back to me and I did the same thing and kicked it really high, this time they all frantically jumped up and ran after the ball. This new game was every man for himself and whoever passed the ball back to me scored. I looked back at the shy and crippled Mr. Musa and he was watching the game.
After that moment I realized I had not seen Mr. Musa smile. My new prayer was no longer that I would see him walk but instead that I would be able to see him smile. I continued to punt the trash ball at the group of kids and give them high fives when they came close enough.
Eventually Pastor David came back with his friend. After some short conversation I saw Mr. Musa stand up from the giant pawn and he went for it! He began walking around uncontrollably in the sand like a circus clown balancing on stilts, I thought for sure I was going to see him fall over. We laughed out loud and quickly rounded Mr. Musa back into the shade. That’s when I saw it, he absolutely lit up. His smile went from ear to ear revealing his missing front tooth and every other tooth in his mouth that was still attached.
We visited Mr. Musa two or three more times within the next couple of days and that weekend he came to church and shared his testimony. He and his wife were both baptized later that day.
When I think back to the experience I’m not surprised that we were able to see this man get up from his bed and walk. In fact, I think in his situation if a group of people who weren’t believers came over and encouraged him each day that he would have been able to find motivation to strengthen his legs again. It was the look of defeat on his face turning to complete joy that will stick with me. Something beyond our ability of being “good people” to provide true healing beyond physical needs.
Mr. Musa isn’t outside playing soccer beneath his house with the kids quite yet. His legs are still gaining strength. A good friend of mine made him a really sweet cane from the woods behind the house. He still needs support and something to lean on.
I wanted to share this story not because I felt like I had healed a man or experienced something beyond belief. I wanted to share it because it’s a great example of the joy our father desires in each one of us, every day.
