Today is Thursday. We were planning to start “official” ministry for the week on Monday. We have yet to do any “official” ministry this week. I use quotation marks because, although we haven’t done structured ministry like we have been doing the past 3 weeks—and, my goodness, was it structured at children’s camp—we have been able to minister to people we run across, people who God has placed in our path. This is the first time we’ve been able to really seek the Lord in what our ministries will be. We are finally experiencing how difficult ministry is without a prearranged schedule. This week we’ve had to adapt a lot to God changing our paths.
On Monday, we were planning on going to a nearby hospital to pray for patients in the burn and spinal-injury wards. We weren’t sure of the visiting hours, and because of the lack of phone book on the property, we had to drive to the hospital to ask. We all loaded into our gray late-80’s model Ford Escort hatchback that we are renting for the week from a family who lives at Alabanza. We have affectionately named him Pepe, and we usually need to give him a bit of encouragement on steep hills in order to successfully make it to the top. I can only imagine the entertainment that South Africans experience while walking down the road hearing 6 Americans screaming “C’mon, Pepe! You can do it, Pepe! Just a little more, Pepe!” at the top of their lungs in a mix between Italian & Spanish accents. When we reached Kalafong hospital, we didn’t need to go in and ask, as the visiting hours were clearly posted on the outside of the building. We made a rough plan to come back the next day to talk and pray with patients. I am learning that almost all plans in Africa are rough plans.
We recruited Hugo (his name in Afrikaans is pronounced “Hee-hoo” with bit of phlegm sound while saying both of the H’s), a man who lives at Alabanza, to go with us because he is more familiar with the system than we are. At the information desk, we were directed upstairs to some offices to talk with the PR director. We learned that we would most likely be able to do ministry here, but would need to make an appointment with another women who was, of course, not in her office until the next afternoon. After a short discussion of whether we should ignore them and walk around and pray with people anyway, we decided that it probably wouldn’t be wise to ruin our relationship with the administration before it had even started. We walked out a bit defeated, but knowing that God was in control. So we circled-up outside of the hospital doors and prayed for direction and that He would open doors in His time. After praying as a group, a couple people walked over to an unshaven man sitting outside and asked if he would like prayer. He looked very similar to a man that you would see sleeping under a bridge in America, perhaps under I-65 in downtown Indianapolis near Meridian & 10th streets. We prayed with him in English, even though I’m not sure he understood much of what we were praying. Hugo prayed for him in Afrikaans. Afterward, we handed him a colorful card that we had made before we left with Psalm 27:13-14 written on it:
I think he understood this verse. After reading it over and over for several minutes, tears began to stream down his face.
About this time, an older woman walked up to us and asked for us to pray for her. After a short conversation with Christina, we learned that she lives in a nursing home, but absolutely detests it. She has a daughter who never comes to visit, so she is very lonely. We prayed with her, and she, too, began to cry. My heart broke for Christina. I could tell how very lonely she is. We got the name of her nursing home and what street it was on so that we could visit this week. We have rough plans to leave in about half-an-hour to go to the nursing home.
To be continued…
