For those who don’t know, I just spent the past week with my parents out here on the mission field. As my dad said, “We just thought we were getting on a plane to Africa to see Grace!” but they were in for so much more. To give a snapshot of the week, allow me to share one story with you from our first day of ministry together.
We pulled up to the Care Point, only 20 minutes away of our hostel, yet worlds apart from the bunk beds and septic tanks we had just left behind. Hoards of children came running after our van as it pulled into the tall green grass next to the church building. We hopped out and were instantly the subjects of competition, each child frantically grabbing for a hand to hold. Dad and mom quickly found buddies that would not leave their side. We roamed around the expansive lush fields, playing games and singing songs and receiving the joy these children had for us in their torn t-shirts and TOMS shoes. They lined up for their daily meal of Feed My Starving Children packets full of high-calorie, high-protein food, all dumped into a big pot and mixed with water, which feed hundreds of kids at the Care Point every day.
That afternoon we got to go on a home visit with Pastor Percy. As we walked up to their home, Pastor informed us that this family had just lost their father a week ago. The mother was still in mourning and hadn’t left the home for the past 7 days. We went inside and presented the family with what seemed like a meager offering: beans, rice, maize, and oil. We sang praise songs together, prayed over them, and delivered a mini-message to comfort and encourage the family through Pastor Percy who translated. Thus far, the widow had barely looked up to even acknowledge our presence, she was so overcome with grief. Then we came to the end of our time there and Pastor asked my dad to pray for the family. As he spoke, the mother turned around and looked up at my dad, surprised to hear a deep male voice in the room. He prayed a sweet prayer over them and we greeted them once more on our way out. She gave a faint smile to dad as we left, and in the simple act of turning around, this woman shook my dad’s world.
We debriefed the afternoon’s events as a team afterward, and with tears in his eyes, dad boldly shared how desperately this world needs men need to step up as leaders in the faith and usher in the Spirit to these places. Mom and I sat back, blown away as he went on, sharing his experience with the fatherless and encouraging the other men in the room to go out and seek out the teenagers and young men and to be mentors to them.
Not only did God touch the heart of the recent widow who had just lost her husband not more than a week ago, but He is so big that He came in and wrecked my dad’s world with the simple act of someone turning their shoulders towards him. And I couldn’t help but be reminded of the story of Jesus (and Judah Smith’s phenomenal spoken word piece about it, linked here) turning around in a crowd to heal a woman otherwise lost in a crowd. Maybe my dad was that woman in the story. He needed to be seen by Jesus. To have Jesus turn around, turn His shoulders in the form of a widowed woman in a mud hut in Africa, and acknowledge the power and authority my dad has been given as a man of God to bring Kingdom onto this earth. And boy does Jesus see my dad. Jesus sees my dad completely for who he is and completely for who he will be. My dad is a mighty vessel of the Lord, being transformed everyday, more and more into the likeness of His Son.
Forever His (and his),
Grace
