Ministry in Malawi has proven to be an exercise both spiritually and physically. We are preachers this month. Most African pastors believe that if we are Christian missionaries from North America, then we have gone to Seminary and are experts in all things biblical. For most of us, this is not exactly true. We are not necessarily qualified, but we are called.
So, we’ve been trekking all over the place to share God’s word and spread His love. Our church – Sadzi Euro African Baptist, is about a 15 minute walk away – on a hill with a beautiful view. It looks out over all of Zomba town and the various mountains and hills spread across the countryside.
Our first Sunday, nearly everyone on the team spoke in front of the congregation. Pastor was excited to have a married couple visiting and asked Paul and I to speak about marriage. At first, we felt inadequate, but embraced how God wanted to use us and spoke based on biblical truths. They loved it! Pastor was so enthusiastic about our message, as he translated he bounced around the stage and raised his voice to add emphasis. It seemed so revolutionary to them – like they had never heard these things before; about a devoted love, submission, respect, and trust.
Throughout the week we travel to churches and homes. Sometimes we pile in the back of an old little pickup truck. On Tuesday, 23 people piled in for an hour long drive; we were accompanied by some youth and the church choir. In Africa, you drive for so long with nothing but dirt around that you are convinced you are legitimately in the middle of nowhere. Then, all of a sudden a little village appears and you wonder how in the world these people ever found this place or how they survive out here so far from everyone else. We stumbled out of the truck, with bruised butts, completely covered in dust and saw the cutest little brick church with a crowd of people eagerly awaiting our arrival.
Other times, we use our own two feet to arrive at a ministry location. On Thursday, Pastor said “we’re not going too far”. So we set out to visit some lady and her family who needed encouragement. Kearston and I were walking side by side, talking about how we’re out of shape and looking forward to a normal exercise routine back home. Half an hour later, we’re still walking – up hill and a little out of breath, when one of the local boys says, “we’re about half way there – it’s just over that hill”. We looked at each other, laughed, and said “over?” For the next 40 minutes, I stopped talking and allowed negative thoughts to run through my mind. I wasn’t pleased, because I wasn’t prepared; I was tired and sweaty and had to preach soon.
–> the half way point
When we finally arrived, we had been hiking for over an hour. We were greeted by a couple of women and their children sitting on a ragged tarp in front of wooden chairs and a coffee table outside their modest brick house. We were given the seats of honour and began to worship together. I was sharing the story of Jesus and the Samaritan Woman which I had wrote last month to share at a service in Tanzania. I got out my notes, began talking, and that’s when I heard His voice. I said, “Jesus walked a long way. He was tired and thirsty”, and thought, mmh… that sounds a lot like me. I spoke about how we should be encouraged to share the good news and about how great God’s love is, and as I spoke I was convicted through my own words. I kept hearing “for the least of these” repeated in my soul (Matthew 25:45). I am here, as Jesus was, for the least of these. He would have died on the cross if I was the only one on earth – he would have done it just for me. So, it doesn’t matter how far I have to walk or what pain and discomfort I have to endure, because it’s not about me.
