The sky is overcast and the rusty dirt of the village covers my toes and the bottom of my skirt.
We walk under slightly overcast skies on the paths eroded by the massive amounts of rain that had poured down the night before.
Anastasia directs me to the right with an open hand and reassuring eyes. We step up the entrance, supported by bags of sand, to a collective of homes.
The women and their children scurry around looking for anything to sit on. As they gesture me to sit on the small wooden bench, hovering a mere 6 inches above the ground, they sit around me. They perch on the stoop of a door, on a bucket, a cinderblock. They are all facing me, holding small children to their chests, or readjusting their wraps.
Anastasia says something to them in Nyajaa and then turns towards me.
“You can share now.”
Beginning evangelism is always very awkward, but I have done it enough at this point to realize that passion trumps awkward every time.
As I start, I explain how the foundation of everything is that God has a passionate love for us.
I explained how we are separated from him by sin.
I explained that we cannot make ourselves pure enough to be with God
And I explained that Jesus is the way the truth and the life, a gift of payment for what we deserve.
Some of the women look at the ground. Some are nodding, and from behind me a woman walks through the small group to the doorway near us.
She looks at me, grins a cheeky grin and proceeds to sit on the arm of a couch just inside the door and look at me.
We lock eyes and she nods her head in my direction to continue.
As I continue to explain what a relationship with God really means, HE whispers to me to speak into their worth.
I speak briefly about what they mean to God as his daughters.
I ask if they have any questions, and they all gently shake their heads, and Anastasia confirms that they don’t have any questions for me.
Then with a deep breath I ask if they have any prayer requests. Their eyes turn toward one another and one speaks collectively for the group.
Anastasia translates. “They do have.”
“Okay what are they?” I ask.
“They’re private” She says.
“Oh.” I feel my heart break a little. I had been praying about praying bold prayers, and was hoping I would have the opportunity to pray the way God has been teaching me to. I had been dwelling on Matthew 8-10 the last couple of days and there are so many examples of being bold. Granted, the majority of them are Jesus himself, but in Matthew 10:7-8 Jesus commands his disciples.
“As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give.”
I read it that morning and I had felt renewed energy and joy coming into the village.
As all of these things are swirling around my mind, Anastasia turns toward me and tells me one of the women would like me to come into her home to ask for prayer.
My heart perks up with someone’s intentional desire for prayer. Its the woman who had walked through the group and arrived only minutes before.
I wipe my feet on the stoop and step into her small home, and Anastasia follows. It is dimly lit and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. Her home is separated into two rooms no bigger than a two or three man tent.
I sit on a small blue couch that most would assume unusable.
She disappears behind the pink fabric divider. When she reappears she is holding a small bundle. Her small son, only a month old. She sits adjacent to us in a matching blue chair and looks at us both for a moment.
Then she starts to explain what she is hoping for with words I can’t understand. She glances at me and at her son with grief on her face. I turn my body toward Anastasia and she starts to explain.
“She wants you to pray protection over her son from HIV & AIDS. She has it and desperately wants her son to be healthy.”
“Yes, of course I can pray for him and for you. Can I lay my hands on both of you?”
She holds a hand of mine with both of hers and I put my other on her son, who has been placed in Anastasia’s arms.
As I close my eyes, I can feel the heaviness in the room and the Holy Spirit whispers into my heart.
“This is when you pray boldly.”
I start by praying for her son and complete health over his life that has just started here in the world. When I’m finished I turn towards her, hold both her hands in both of mine, and pray boldly.
I pray for disease to be eradicated in the name of Jesus. I ask that that she be brought into full health, that her body would be brought under the command and authority of the Lord. I ask repeatedly for HIV and AIDS to be gone.
Then I feel him whisper again.
“Don’t forget about her heart.”
I pray for how God sees her as a daughter. I pray for her worth, how she is made perfectly and I hear her begin to weep.
Her hands are trembling in mine and I start to praise the goodness of the Lord when He gives me something. I see the woman in front of me wrapped in light and the hand of her heavenly father is outstretched, reaching toward her.
I thank Him again and again, and pray peace and protection over her home.
I open my eyes and the women in front of me has tears running down her cheeks and has slumped to her knees. She lifts her lowered head and whispers thank you over and over.
I lower myself, put my hands on both her shoulders and give her a hug. As I pull back I look at her and ask if anyone has ever told her how much God loves her. She shook her head.
I sat there and continued to tell her how God sees her as his child, and there is nothing that could ever happen to make him stop loving her. I tell her what God showed me while I was praying, and she didn’t quite understand. Anastasia translated, and her eyes brightened.
We left shortly after that.
I don’t know if my prayer has been answered, and I never will. But I know that my God is a good and incredibly powerful God.
I know that he used me to show a woman how much he cares for her.
How he grieves with her, how he rejoices with her.
How he sees her and holds her worth.
And most of all how he loves her.
And he taught me how to pray boldly.
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Since we are never in one spot very long, I will not be able to capture most of my memories through photographs like I have in previous months. Most of the moments I experience will have to be captured through sketches and drawings. I will try to share all of them at the end of the month.
