It is said God gives you what you want, but I didn’t think when I declared Malawi as my favorite country thus far that I was requesting a second month here. My squad was planning on traveling to Mozambique this month where we would be doing another month of ministry in a rural area. Mozambique has recently stopped sending visa stamps to its international consulates, making it incredibly difficult to enter the country. I have one friend who had been working in Mozambique that he could not return to the country because there are literally zero entry visas for the coastal nation inside the United States. Fortunately our logistics team was able to find some here in Africa. Even with approved visas and appropriately signed and stamped paperwork and reference letters though we were turned away at the border (there is a lesson about immigration policy here, but we will save it for another time). This placed us in an odd limbo where we were not allowed in Mozambique, did not have visas to reenter Malawi, and legally couldn’t remain in the international space between. Fortunately our 18 hour travel day ended up with us getting back into Malawi and being taken in by a local church.
Three teams which were trying to enter into a different providence of Mozambique were able to get in a few days later, but three of our teams (mine included) are remaining in Malawi and are working with Life Church, the ministry which graciously took us in. Each day looks a little different, varying from house to house outreach, running several church services each week, and developing their location (an old preschool) to be more accommodating to the needs of their organization and community. I am also looking forward to working with prisoners next weekend.
I would like to share a story about a lesson I learned last month in Nkhotakota, and then tell you of the fruit that has came to pass as I have implemented that lesson here in Blantyre.
Last month we worked with a pastor named Eddie who had converted from a powerful high profile Muslim family. He had undergone persecution, torture, and assassination attempts because of his acceptance of Jesus, but he had also experienced amazing spiritual blessings. He could feel the reality of the Christian faith, he knew at the deepest level the truth of Christ and what it means in people’s lives and the world as a whole. He felt the weight of importance it was to share this gift, to seek souls not just for the kingdom, but also for the sake of the one being saved.
I did a lot of house to house evangelism, feeling this is where my gifts were best used, and had many people respond that they wanted to be born again. I liked this. It was one on one or in small groups, and gave the opportunity for me to lay the framework of discipleship and to plug these people into communities which would foster their growth. It is too often that we say, “I favor discipleship models of evangelization,” as a defense for not being bold in how we preach, for being too timid when speaking to groups where there are too many to properly disciple.
On this particular day I was chosen to do kid’s ministry so that others would get a chance to go house to house. Working with a horde of five to thirteen year olds is not a place I feel very useful. I would much rather be relational with those who are old enough to have rational conversations, old enough to have shared understandings and commonalities. We are not called to just share love with those we want though, in fact Christ makes it pretty clear in Matthew 18:5 that children such as the Malawians who sat in the dirt around me should be a priority in my work.
I decide to speak on the story of the adulterous woman (I just called her a sinful woman rather than specifying her actions) and asked some of my teammates act it out while I told the story. The kids and my team all raise our hands, identifying that like the woman we had sinned and our punishment was death, describing how sin separates us from a God who is goodness and is love. I was setting the stage, planting seeds for someone else to harvest.
Pastor Eddie was an amazing translator, frequently talking about how much he enjoyed the position because of how he was able to be first transformed himself by the words of the speaker and then to be a vessel to share them with others. He knew when he needed to elaborate to make things make sense and how to fill in gaps caused by cultural differences. I didn’t think anything of Eddie’s passionate Chichewa, which went on longer than just translating my words would have, until the kids started enthusiastically raising their hands.
I look to Pastor to try and figure out what he said that is triggering the hand raising. Hayabusa, is the Chichewa word for pastor. I make a mental note that this is also the Japanese word for falcon. He tells me, “I knew where you were going, so I asked them for you.” He pulled the trigger.
I was going to present the Gospel, but I was not going to make the ask. I was not going to give them the opportunity to accept salvation right at that moment. I was not going to pull the trigger.
Quickly I change gears and finish the message, focusing on the points that are most applicable to their desire to accept Christ as their savior. I lead the prayer and they repeat after me in Chichewa, there are at least fifty of them praying it. Some of my team moves in to celebrate with them and lead them in worship. I got down to the lagoon to reflect. Who am I to know the people He has in place disciple them? Who am I to say whether or not it is time for them to accept Christ? I vowed to not miss another opportunity, to always pull the trigger. I saw much fruit during my remaining time in Nkhotakota as a result of this change in my ministry.
Fast forward to this month in the more developed Blantyre. My team is at an orphanage and after songs and games with the kids we are asked, “What is the program?” Here in Malawi we know this means they want us to speak, to do missionary things. These moments are never planned; we are rarely told ahead of time that we will be asked to present something. I suggest my team takes the lead and does a skit, even though we don’t have everyone who normally plays the parts.
Here we call the skit “Chimo Chair.” Chimo is the Chichewa word for sin. In the skit one character looks at a chair curious, but is drawn in to try sitting in it. They seem pleased, comfortable, but when they try to get up they find out that it is stuck to them. Another character comes in and tries to help the first, but their hands get stuck when they touch the chair while helping. Another comes in, laughing at their plight, only to also get accidentally trapped with an arm touching the chair. On his day I am the strong man, who tries to use strength to get them out of the chair. That too fails. Finally, the last character comes in and with just a touch frees each person stuck to the sin chair. End scene.
I get up and start speaking. I ask them questions and elaborate on the ones they can’t answer. I cover how sin separates us from God and how our actions can never bring us back into union with Him. I point to the mountain on the horizon and explain that if God is at the top we could never jump there; our works are never good enough. Even the best Olympic high jumper, the most morally right person, could not jump from the orphanage to the top of the mountain. We need Christ.
After a long pause only one girl raises her hand. While this is less hands than normal, is does not make the event any less significant. Her name is Isnett, and along with Jones, one of the missionaries we work with who is helping translate, we go off to the side where it is quiet. We lead her in the prayer and then sit and talk. It is an opportunity to disciple that if I had acted under the mindset I had prior to Malawi I, or anyone for that matter, would not have had. And I am glad I did. I shared a bit of my testimony, and then she began to speak with tears running down her face. She shared how her grandmother was a witch and how this has influenced her life, the spiritual attacks she faced. Regularly snakes would come to her in the night and tell her she needed to go be with her grandmother. She would hear voices telling her that unless she left the orphanage she would die. These things terrorized her, and she knew they were an evil caused by the witchcraft. We prayed for her again, calling down further heavenly protection and that the Spirit of God in her would shine so bright that these things could not come close to her. Jones tells me later that he wants to keep visiting her, to make her like his sister. The discipleship connection. He already was planning to buy her shoes once he got paid by the preschool he worked at.
Pray for Isnett and the growth of her faith, that she is no longer tormented by these manifestations of evil. Pray for Jones and the ministry they are a part of, that the legitimate joy and pursuit of Christ they live out as they seek disciples does not wane. Pray for my team and I that we may remain bold, that we always pull the trigger and seek new souls for the kingdom.
I currently need $175 to meet my next fundraising goal. If you would like to support my ministry and moments like those I described here, please click any of the “Support Me” buttons on this page. Do not forget, and donation during the month of August will get you a complementary Thank you so much!
