We eat and we sweat and we swat away flies and mosquitos and we try to rest and relax with no electricity, no running water, and no where to get comfortable.
They pick us up in the afternoon and we drive to a smaller, more remote village than the one we are staying in.
We park the "auto" and get out. We walk up to a house and a few people and several children gather around.
We sing a song. Another song.
I feel like a circus performer.
One of us shares and we move onto the next house.
The people from the first house follow and several more gather. We are drawing a crowd.
We tell the story of Jesus feeding the thousands.
Next house.
More people. Another song. Another story.
Next house.
Gospel. The urgent message that changed my life. That changes everything.
We ask if anyone needs prayer. Almost everyone comes up. Fever, body aches, worms, headaches, blessings.
We pray and we pray and we pray.
We lay hands on the sick and ask for healing.
We lay hands on the poor and ask for blessings.
We pray over the crowds and ask– no, plead— that God will soften their hearts to His message and that they will recognize and declare Him as the one true God.
And then we leave, thanking Him for choosing us to tell and trusting Him to do the rest.
We drive to another village, but this time, there's no need to go house to house. A crowd gathers as soon as we step out of the car.
And we sing and teach and share and laugh and pray some more.
"How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news." -Romans 10:14-15
