Many times over the past two days I have opened up my laptop and gone into Microsoft Word. Upon opening up a new document I draw a blank. I know there is much to say, but I don’t know how to focus those thoughts into one concise blog.
Where do I begin? Do I begin with processing going home? Do I begin with processing leaving my squad and the race? Do I tell you about the amazing children I have met? Do I tell you about Mr. Sanga and Mama Sanga? Do I tell you about our time in the villages? I want to do it all, but there never seems to be enough time. No matter how descriptive or enticing these blogs are it isn’t the same as you actually being surrounded by palm trees at the foot of the mountains here in Tanzania.
I could tell you about Abby. (The two year old girl who lives next door to us at the YWAM base here in Morogoro.) She has bow legs and continually makes my day each time I see her. However, it is not the same as you getting hug from Abby and listening to her laugh as you play with her.
I could tell you about the disabled camp we went to. How the government funded facility hasn’t actually be receiving the funds from the government and how they are lacking on supplies, food, and sleep with rats. That has nothing to do with the power of prayer and healing that was released over the blind, the lepers, and the lame as we asked for the Lord to move in each of them.
I could tell you about the YWAM preschoolers who we made passports for. How it was more than just making them passports. Isaac (the teacher) explained to us that we had just prophesied over these children. How is it difficult to acquire passports in Tanzania, but after what we just did he knows it will be easier for the children to get them.
What about our three days in the village? I could tell you how we were without water and electricity, but that doesn’t do anything for you. It doesn’t grasp the power of the Holy Spirit in a bush church. Our environment has nothing to do with the God these people know and experience on a daily basis. It is the same God we have in America, but they have not limited him like we have. He is real.
Mama and Mr. Sanga. The moment you meet them you will be their family. I could describe their hospitality and how they were constantly protecting and caring for us. You know, it would be better if you could hear Sanga’s heart and his vision for the people of Tanzania. You would feel it more if you ate at his house twice a day and spent an afternoon under a mango tree with him and just talked.
I could tell you about Joyce. How when we went into the special education room at the primary school how her face lit up with excitement. How her faith in the Lord is the most genuine that I have ever come in contact with. 45 minutes with those kids was some of the most rewarding time that I have had to see God move.
I could tell you about our door to door ministry. How we went to a house where the mother believes in Jesus Christ and she wants to accept salvation, but cannot because her husband is Muslim. How she has a deep yearning to be united with Christ, but still takes her daughter to a witch doctor for healing. God’s favor is upon her and her husband will come to know the Lord through her.
The worship in an African church is something else I could tell you about. Experiencing that pure joy and celebration in worship and praise is something that comes with rejoicing alongside of them. I have read that God inhabits the praises of his people, but never understood or truly felt that until Africa.
Each of these ministries was different. Each showed me something new about God. Each showed me how he can and will use anyone.
