This past weekend, half of our team departed for an excursion to Maputo, Mozambique. Tana, Shawna, and Amanda travelled with Michael and Lynne to an AIM base there, mainly, to get Lynne on a flight from Maputo to Pemba (she had a wedding to attend this weekend). Michael would be staying in Maputo until she returned. So they invited some tag-alongs. Those three girls were more than happy to go back, after all, they had loved being up in Morrumbala. I could have gone either way.
Recently, Scott and Steph had been receiving more and more emails pertaining to writing a book about the World Race, from our leader Seth. This weekend would be the perfect opportunity to start writing, if we were going to take this thing seriously. The day after half of Nessa left, we welcomed Chad, Talia, and Erin into the missionary home (Kent and Shay were more than happy to have more guests). Chad, the chauffeur and possible contributor, Erin, the linguistics instructor, and Talia, the editor and brainstorming guru, showed up Friday in the late afternoon.
Friday night we just started the brainstorming process. What was this book supposed to look like? How many people are writing this thing? How do we tell everyone’s story and make it flow? The answers to these questions are still out in no man’s land, but at least we had a beginning point. Write about life before the Race. What was God doing before you jumped off the deep end, and into a life of unknowns? This I could do.
Saturday morning, we mosied around until about 10 am, when we grabbed our backpacks, laptops in tow, and headed to the mall. We made our way to the Seattle’s Best coffee shop at the Riverside Mall and Casino. Plunking down our packs, Chad was already in line to order his breakfast, a nice storng coffee. I got my usual (as we tend to frequent this shop, due to it’s plethora of free wireless internet), a Cafe Mocha, this time with whipped cream, and started writing… long hand… on a piece of paper.
Scott and I never thought we’d use this well-worn laptop quite as much as we are. We even went out and bought a wireless card for it. Suprisingly, the card works great, and it’s a lot more cost effective than spending loads of cash on the mall internet cafe. Unfortunately, there’s two of us and only one laptop. Two artists, but one canvas. As much as typing is easier, I gave in and started writing the old fashioned way, with pen and paper.
By Saturday evening, we were still at the mall. So we decided to eat there and then take in a movie. After all, we had worked hard. While everyone else took in Ocean’s 13, Scott and I bought our tickets for Die Hard 4.0. Much to my suprise, it held my attention. There were great special effects, and the story line was even interesting. I could have done without the man sitting next to me chatting on his cell phone during the middle of the movie, but again, TIA.
It seemed as though Saturday flew by, and Sunday morning arrived. Friday, Kent had approached our team by asking if anyone of us wanted to share the Word of the Lord on Sunday morning at a big top church in the bush. Kent had been asked, and had accepted the engagement, but thought it might be even better to have one of us get up and bring the Word. We accepted the invitation, but didn’t bother putting a sermon together. We figured it was going to be the Holy Spirit anyhow, so why get in the way. Steph and I discussed what the Lord was laying on our hearts that morning. After a full day of writing about abandonment, I thought it might be the day’s topic. Steph also had some thoughts for the morning. Kent, Shay, and the three remaining Nessa’s hopped into the white Renault, and made our way to the Judeo Harvest tent church (the other three attended Kent’s friend’s church).
When it was time to bring the message, all three of us got up. People had already been testifying about friends and relatives who were visitors to the church, and that they want the church to come around them, and help them grow. It seemed only natural that we’d talk about discipleship. So, we stood up there and tag-teamed the entire message. And it flowed, and made sense, and the congregation was enwrapped, by the words. I couldn’t believe how quiet it was in there (relatively speaking… most congregations have trouble paying attention, even in the States). And when we finished, we invited the people up for healing prayer, and for the Holy Spirit to bring them to a place of abandon. And then they snet us back up to the front because they wanted to pray for us. Tears welled up, a sign of a grateful heart. As I had given of what God has given to me, I felt extreme gratefulness… just that I could be in the presence of the Holy Spirit and these people.
Kent and Shay couldn’t get over how proud they were of us, we are after all, their surrogate children for the month. They told us that we ministered to them. That they wanted our sermon “notes”. And then they did what proud parents do, they took us out for pizza and a dessert treat (an amazing “shot” of liquid milk and dark chocolate, in a chocolate shot glass). They said it was their treat, and again, gratefulness was the response.
I have been blessed. From the day we set foot in South Africa, we’ve experienced God’s hand of blessing. It may have looked a little odd in the beginning, and it was a lot harder to experience gratefulness, but I think that was the test. Will I be grateful in all circumstances? Will generosity flow out of a heart that is truly thankful for everything? I hope so.
