I survived the Kalahari Desert.
In a multitude of ages from now that statement will be said with honor I have no doubt. And perhaps it will even hold a certain merit of life experience that will provoke admiration. But I promise you that at this time, that statement is only said in a sentiment of relief.
Let me tell you about the experience. First, I’ll start by mentioning that the desert is nearly exactly what one would expect of it. It is hot, really hot. And not in the joyful summertime warmth accompanied by the option of cool air conditioning sort of hot, but the sort of hot that makes you believe your skin is burning off instantaneously underneath the rays of the sun. And the bugs are monstrous. They only come out at night and when they do they harass one’s tent buzzing to and fro and arrive in multitudes that makes a person question the unreasonability of a plague. And there is sand. Everywhere. With thistles hidden like mines. It’s easy to presume that the sand stays outside where it belongs, but anyone who frequents the beach understands that sand never stays on the beach. As a result, sand got into every crevice of our belongings. Maybe that’s all a touch melodramatic… but there it is.
This description may portray an air of complaint but do not mistake me, complaints did not take place until we ran out of water. After all, we had a quaint and comfortable house to live in. To say other teams were not as lucky is an understatement. But back to the lack of water…
I presume it is reasonable to expect a water shortage every now and again when living in the desert, but our team expected nothing of the sort. So when the whole town of Werda ran dry and our personal water tank followed suit, we didn’t know what to do. Mind you, this was only the midpoint of the month. I never fully appreciated the necessity of water until it became absolutely obsolete. Then I developed a desperate, complete understanding of its essentiality. And that is when I lost composure. Suddenly every single thing I encountered seemed to be against me. The heat became less tolerable, the sand became more invasive, the bugs became more grotesque, the basic cooking and cleaning became more burdensome. And I wanted out. My mentality shifted from desiring to seek out ministry opportunities to coasting through the rest of the month and be able to say, “I survived the Kalahari Desert.”
But this shift was not just a result of the water shortage. In fact, our physical drought became analogous to a spiritual one. Our ministry in Botswana was always dependent on our individual intentionality, forcing us to wander around the town and find ways to make connections with the locals. But even so, God opened many doors to us, providing such opportunities. Every afternoon kids and teens would come to our yard to play and dance, the owners of the shop across the street welcomed us with a tv, we met another lady that had her own ministry and was well connected in the town, not to mention the house visits we ventured on.
And yet, as soon as the town ran out of water, it seemed as if all those doors shut immediately. The majority of the kids stopped coming by, only several still visited us and always asked for drinks of water that we could not provide. The well connected lady we met left for the city for a week. And our house visits were put on pause as those escorting us were preoccupied with the water dilemma that affected the entire community. And thus, ministry ran dry as the water pipes did. It seemed as if every effort we made to reach out to the people of Werda resulted in failure. As I lamented before, every single thing we encountered seemed to be against us.
So what does one do when the water spickets run dry?
Blessed by my team The Exodus, as we lost opportunity to pour into the community, we faced inward and began to pour into each other. Our time interacting as a team was filled with the spiritual depth that we lacked in our temporary Botswanan community. Amidst this, I received a note from a dear teammate that read:
“Use free time wisely. Time spent with the Lord in prayer, getting filled, praying and interceding for this town and country is not wasted time… That is ministry also. Actively seeking and waiting on the Lord is never time wasted. Rest, get filled, process what the Lord is doing and has done. Seasons of quietness and rest are much needed for the body and the spirit. Relish in these sweet moments with the Father. ‘For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, ‘In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.’ –Isaiah 30:15”
She did not write this for me specifically but God knew I was desperate to receive it. And as I read it, the Lord reminded me of our team’s namesake… “The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.” –Exodus 14:14. He told to stop trying so hard. He told me to rest, to be still, and to prayer for Werda and the community we were living amongst. He told me to step back and let Him work on the spiritual realm, the realm I could not see, and to not get in the way of the work He was doing. But as I lived in Werda, I allowed the presence of the Spirit to exist in that town. And perhaps that’s the only reason God called me to Werda, to bring His presence there and to stir the happenings of the spiritual realm through my prayer.
So I became still. And I embraced the weight of my call to prayer. And not much happened after that, not what we could see at least. We continued to grow spiritually as a team, we embraced opportunities to encourage the community when they arose. But for the most part we accepted the role of stillness that was pressed upon us.
Admittedly I have no idea what God is doing in Werda or even the Kalahari Desert. Yet I also have no doubt that He’s doing something. Perhaps one day I will be able to understand how God used my presence there. But I’m expecting to never know as that lack of knowledge provokes action out of humility and a relinquishment of my own self-gratification that loves knowing the worth of my acts even in Kingdom work.
Eventually we left Werda, the Desert, and Botswana. And after a few days in Johannesburg we left Africa altogether to return to Asia. The long week to travel drained many but for me it only brought relief and inspiration as it fed my desire to discover another set of cultures. Also, the further we travelled, the more secure I was in the fact that I was out of the desert. At least for now.
