He stood alone at the edge of a sandy road searching the eyes of every woman that passed by. His continuous low sobbing only paused long enough for a gasp of sustaining air. I moved forward to comfort this two-year-old with a malnourished frame and swollen belly. I surmised he was lost until an elderly woman stepped forward and quickly apologized for his behavior. She ushered him away from the road as I heard her call back to me that his mother had just died two days prior.
Separation. A word beyond a two-year-old's vocabulary but not beyond his pain. It is a giant word that penetrates the heart of God so deeply that He created a plan to slay it before the world began. Activista Adelina explained God's plan in her bairro this week of the birth of Jesus in the little town of Bethlehem. It had only been a month since she buried her husband. In the Bible study was a woman named Maria who had lost her husband a week before Adelina. She had come in spite of just giving birth to her dead husband's baby. Though the sting of death is for a season, their hope is eternal.
Tomorrow we pack once again to return to the States. Separation. A constant companion of the migrant missionary. We are praying we can return to Dondo in a few short months. There is a world of opportunity to share the hope of God's plan....and this is the season.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
The Witchdoctor's Daughter
Emelia, an activista, is one of the most godly Mozambican women I know. I have come to admire her venerable faith as we have walked together over the last few years in Project Life. So her unexpected confession that morning caught me by surprise.
"My parents were witchdoctors," she shared in a guarded tenor. The look in her eyes confirmed the truth she had just confided. We were on our way to the Mafarinha Bible study. The lesson in the bairros all week had been from Jeremiah's warning against worshiping idols. We bridged the lesson to the traditional witchcraft practice of Dondo's culture. I knew it would open up a door of opportunity to hear the stories and understand the draw of this dark ancestral religion. I just didn't realize how deep the darkness penetrated.
"How many of you have ever been to the witchdoctor?" I asked the activistas. Expecting a few, I glanced around and 100% raised their hands. Equally shocking were the same results in the bairros that week. Only one 14-year-old girl had escaped the doors of the witchdoctor. Everyone looked at her suspiciously as if she were an American who had never eaten apple pie or experienced a baseball game. They explained a variety of reasons for using the witchdoctor's services: herbal remedies, cursing a neighbor, infertility, obtaining wealth, protection from robberies, protection as they robbed others, advise from ancestors, calling out evil spirits, and performing sacrifices - both animal and human. One story from one woman was especially eye-opening.
"I couldn't get pregnant. It was going on ten years. So my husband and I went to the witchdoctor. He told us to bring milk, a black chicken and other items. I still wasn't getting pregnant. So my husband bought me a beautiful skirt that cost 250mt (about $10) and I wore it to the witchdoctor's house. He told me I couldn't get pregnant because I had an evil spirit. I was told to take the skirt off immediately and throw it in the river. I was sad to lose my beautiful skirt but I agreed and threw it in the river. Still not pregnant, a few weeks later I returned to the witchdoctor's house. I found his wife wearing the skirt I had thrown into the river." We all laughed at the the transparency of it but the other narratives passed on the same preposterous plot.
Emelia continued her story as I envisioned the life of a witchdoctor's daughter. She was forced to perform duties that were expected in her role. One day a Christian came to her house and shared Christ's love with her. She accepted Christ as her Savior in spite of her parents' strong objections and anger. She refused to change her mind so her parents refused to feed her. They continued to pressure her by forcing her to sleep outside. Her answer was found in a marriage to escape her arduous plight. Sadly, her parents died within a few years without seeking Christ's forgiveness.
I could see God play his patient hand in this competitive conflict between good and evil. Earlier in the week I had confronted Joaquim and Domingas about their continued practice of witchcraft. Joaquim's other daughter Melita is one of the patients involved in Project Life and has faithfully been coming to our Mafarinha Bible study. I was concerned that she might not return. Yet, all in God's timing, Emelia courageously spoke up that morning to the whole group and shared her testimony of her life as a witchdoctor's daughter. I watched in amazement as Melita listened to every word.
"My parents were witchdoctors," she shared in a guarded tenor. The look in her eyes confirmed the truth she had just confided. We were on our way to the Mafarinha Bible study. The lesson in the bairros all week had been from Jeremiah's warning against worshiping idols. We bridged the lesson to the traditional witchcraft practice of Dondo's culture. I knew it would open up a door of opportunity to hear the stories and understand the draw of this dark ancestral religion. I just didn't realize how deep the darkness penetrated.
"How many of you have ever been to the witchdoctor?" I asked the activistas. Expecting a few, I glanced around and 100% raised their hands. Equally shocking were the same results in the bairros that week. Only one 14-year-old girl had escaped the doors of the witchdoctor. Everyone looked at her suspiciously as if she were an American who had never eaten apple pie or experienced a baseball game. They explained a variety of reasons for using the witchdoctor's services: herbal remedies, cursing a neighbor, infertility, obtaining wealth, protection from robberies, protection as they robbed others, advise from ancestors, calling out evil spirits, and performing sacrifices - both animal and human. One story from one woman was especially eye-opening.
"I couldn't get pregnant. It was going on ten years. So my husband and I went to the witchdoctor. He told us to bring milk, a black chicken and other items. I still wasn't getting pregnant. So my husband bought me a beautiful skirt that cost 250mt (about $10) and I wore it to the witchdoctor's house. He told me I couldn't get pregnant because I had an evil spirit. I was told to take the skirt off immediately and throw it in the river. I was sad to lose my beautiful skirt but I agreed and threw it in the river. Still not pregnant, a few weeks later I returned to the witchdoctor's house. I found his wife wearing the skirt I had thrown into the river." We all laughed at the the transparency of it but the other narratives passed on the same preposterous plot.
Emelia continued her story as I envisioned the life of a witchdoctor's daughter. She was forced to perform duties that were expected in her role. One day a Christian came to her house and shared Christ's love with her. She accepted Christ as her Savior in spite of her parents' strong objections and anger. She refused to change her mind so her parents refused to feed her. They continued to pressure her by forcing her to sleep outside. Her answer was found in a marriage to escape her arduous plight. Sadly, her parents died within a few years without seeking Christ's forgiveness.
I could see God play his patient hand in this competitive conflict between good and evil. Earlier in the week I had confronted Joaquim and Domingas about their continued practice of witchcraft. Joaquim's other daughter Melita is one of the patients involved in Project Life and has faithfully been coming to our Mafarinha Bible study. I was concerned that she might not return. Yet, all in God's timing, Emelia courageously spoke up that morning to the whole group and shared her testimony of her life as a witchdoctor's daughter. I watched in amazement as Melita listened to every word.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Heartache
We go to the extremes to protect our little ones. We know that a baby left to itself is unaware of the dangers that can rob him of life. Sad news is disclosed each year in Dondo that a child has drowned in a flooded depression like an addendum to the rainy season. Yesterday it was the year-old baby of our mechanic, Sergio. By herself for a brief moment, she slipped away from life and her family. In a parallel event, a baby Christian that I have been trying to nurture in the Lord also slipped away yesterday...back into the enemy's territory.
I walked toward Domingas' and Joaquim's house with a heavy uneasiness. One of the most difficult visits of my ministry in Dondo was about to unfold. Domingas and Joaquim had practiced witchcraft most of their lives. After their son/grandson's death we had witnessed them miraculously come to Christ. For over a year Domingas had been attending the Mafarinha church and we had taken them through an 8-week Bible study at their small mud home. When I returned this year I discovered that Domingas' attendance had become sporadic. I took time in my busy schedule and stopped by to see if she was well. She admitted she had not been going to church because she had been feeling weak and dizzy. I recognized the signs of malaria-induced anemia and asked her to visit our clinic doctor (who later confirmed my suspicions). Even so, something was wrong and I sensed it. I discussed it with my translator Simone and he sensed it too. We prayed for God's wisdom, and I prayed specifically that God would reveal to us whether she had returned to her witchcraft.
Yesterday Simone happened to be walking within earshot of Domingas' house. He heard the beat we had dreaded...witchdoctor drums. He slipped quietly to her house to confirm the sound within. Now I was walking in that direction with an ache in my heart like a mother searching for her lost child. When Simone and I arrived, Domingas and Joaquim didn't offer us their usual greeting. I stood like a stone refusing to be whitewashed. After a few awkward minutes, Joaquim's husband Luis approached us with Domingas shadowing his steps. I greeted them softly and customarily shook their hands. Quietly asking what I already knew, Domingas avoided my eyes. Four times I asked, four times she forestalled the question. Finally Joaquim approached us in a defensive manner I had never seen before. She told me that she was part of the Catholic church which allowed and accepted witchcraft activities six days of the week; the seventh day was reserved for church. She left quickly but I noticed Domingas and Luis remained behind.
I took the opportunity to explain we can only serve one Master. One foot can't be in the house of Satan while the other is in the house of God. I could hear the loud roar of Satan's deluge beating hard to drown out God's vast, wide and deep love for them. I prayed with them that God would open their eyes. After we prayed, Domingas volunteered that she wanted to speak to the leader of the Mafarinha church on Sunday. Perhaps there is still a heartbeat.
I walked toward Domingas' and Joaquim's house with a heavy uneasiness. One of the most difficult visits of my ministry in Dondo was about to unfold. Domingas and Joaquim had practiced witchcraft most of their lives. After their son/grandson's death we had witnessed them miraculously come to Christ. For over a year Domingas had been attending the Mafarinha church and we had taken them through an 8-week Bible study at their small mud home. When I returned this year I discovered that Domingas' attendance had become sporadic. I took time in my busy schedule and stopped by to see if she was well. She admitted she had not been going to church because she had been feeling weak and dizzy. I recognized the signs of malaria-induced anemia and asked her to visit our clinic doctor (who later confirmed my suspicions). Even so, something was wrong and I sensed it. I discussed it with my translator Simone and he sensed it too. We prayed for God's wisdom, and I prayed specifically that God would reveal to us whether she had returned to her witchcraft.
Yesterday Simone happened to be walking within earshot of Domingas' house. He heard the beat we had dreaded...witchdoctor drums. He slipped quietly to her house to confirm the sound within. Now I was walking in that direction with an ache in my heart like a mother searching for her lost child. When Simone and I arrived, Domingas and Joaquim didn't offer us their usual greeting. I stood like a stone refusing to be whitewashed. After a few awkward minutes, Joaquim's husband Luis approached us with Domingas shadowing his steps. I greeted them softly and customarily shook their hands. Quietly asking what I already knew, Domingas avoided my eyes. Four times I asked, four times she forestalled the question. Finally Joaquim approached us in a defensive manner I had never seen before. She told me that she was part of the Catholic church which allowed and accepted witchcraft activities six days of the week; the seventh day was reserved for church. She left quickly but I noticed Domingas and Luis remained behind.
I took the opportunity to explain we can only serve one Master. One foot can't be in the house of Satan while the other is in the house of God. I could hear the loud roar of Satan's deluge beating hard to drown out God's vast, wide and deep love for them. I prayed with them that God would open their eyes. After we prayed, Domingas volunteered that she wanted to speak to the leader of the Mafarinha church on Sunday. Perhaps there is still a heartbeat.
Friday, March 12, 2010
The Face of God
The steps in our journey of life sometimes finds us on roads too craggy to climb. In these times I have envisioned a literal grip on God's hand in order to brave the next ridge in the road. This difficult time of year for Mozambicans parades the beggars, opportunists and thieves who yesterday performed unceasingly at my car window in the market in Beira. The weariness weighed heavily on me as I reflected on my role in all of this repetitive need. I asked God to hold more than my hand today...I needed to see His face, I needed to hear his heartbeat. He answered in a beautiful story told by my translator, Simone. Simone quietly watched this drama play out this afternoon as if he were in an outdoor amphitheater.
"I was waiting by some vendors for a friend," began Simone, "and watched a very sick woman approach a vendor selling soft drinks. She told the man that she was very thirsty and asked for a drink. He abruptly told her he didn't have soft drinks and she needed to leave. She went to the next vendor. He was selling bananas. She told him that she was hungry and asked if she could have just one banana. He responded in the same way as the first vendor. He told her he didn't have bananas and she should go away. Wearily, she approached the last vendor selling frozen flavored water. Once again she explained how thirsty she was and pleaded for his help. Once again, he responded in the same way as the first two and told her to go away."
Simone continued. "I waited for a while to see if anyone would help. The woman was not doing well by that time yet no one helped. I went to her and took her to the third man selling the flavored frozen water and bought her one. Then we went to the banana vendor and I bought her a banana. When she was finished eating it I took her to the man selling soft drinks and bought her a soft drink. She was so thankful that she asked God to bless me - repeating it ten times! I finally told her to go in peace. She started to leave but then she came back and asked me what church I attended. I gave her directions to our church and invited her to come."
"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me. I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' Matthew 25: 35-40
"I was waiting by some vendors for a friend," began Simone, "and watched a very sick woman approach a vendor selling soft drinks. She told the man that she was very thirsty and asked for a drink. He abruptly told her he didn't have soft drinks and she needed to leave. She went to the next vendor. He was selling bananas. She told him that she was hungry and asked if she could have just one banana. He responded in the same way as the first vendor. He told her he didn't have bananas and she should go away. Wearily, she approached the last vendor selling frozen flavored water. Once again she explained how thirsty she was and pleaded for his help. Once again, he responded in the same way as the first two and told her to go away."
Simone continued. "I waited for a while to see if anyone would help. The woman was not doing well by that time yet no one helped. I went to her and took her to the third man selling the flavored frozen water and bought her one. Then we went to the banana vendor and I bought her a banana. When she was finished eating it I took her to the man selling soft drinks and bought her a soft drink. She was so thankful that she asked God to bless me - repeating it ten times! I finally told her to go in peace. She started to leave but then she came back and asked me what church I attended. I gave her directions to our church and invited her to come."
"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me. I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' Matthew 25: 35-40
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Savane Church Plant Pictures/Video
Watch the video. This is just a little of the dancing that went on in Savane as the women sang in their tribal language in thankfulness at the beginning of the construction of their long-awaited church.
Savane Church Plant Story
But the Lord has become my fortress, and my God the rock in whom I take refuge...Psalm 94: 22
...and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it...Matt 16:18b
It is a "lancamente da primera pedra" and everyone is celebrating. It has finally arrived. The "throwing of the first rock," or ground breaking ceremony. After many weeks of waiting on official permits and waiting out the rain, the first cement block was ceremonially put in place. This former grass and mud church will reconstruct into a sturdy cement church to defy the elements. No one is more happy about this than the people of Savane.
For years this church plant has been praying and we have been watching as their building resigned to the rains. Undaunted by the destruction, they began meeting under the trees until the rainy season. Not a moment too late, God provided through CRI donors the funds to begin construction. It has blessed my heart to know that Christian brothers and sisters who live 10,000 miles away responded to God's call and gave in sacrificial joy. May the true "Rock" that this church is built on continue to bless both the people of Savane and their Christian partners.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Pay Day!
It is the first of the month and you are elated. It is PAY DAY! Now you can pay your bills and grab a Starbucks. You open your pay envelope and discover $27. That is it. It will be your entire salary until the first of next month. Could you do it?
On pay day, the activistas and I were discussing Elijah and the widow who had only a bit of oil and a bit of flour left in her house. She informed Elijah that she was going to cook it for herself and her son and then die. Elijah instructed her to go home and bake bread for him first. Would you do it?
How far are you willing to trust God in difficult circumstances? The activistas receive $27 a month in salary. Most are widowed with children in their care. It isn't that the cost of living in Dondo is less than the U.S. Food at the grocery store is high: a pound of butter $7.16; margarine $4.50; small can of tuna $2.12; small bag of apples $5.40; and for the epicurean appetite - 2 oz. of Tabasco sauce $5.00. Then there are the outlays of clothing, housing, schooling, transportation...the list goes on.
I asked the activistas if they could begin to put some of their $27 into a savings each month. After all, Proverbs 13:11 says putting money away little by little makes it grow. They looked at me like the widow must have looked at Elijah, "Is this the voice of reason?" An activista's eyes brightened and she laughed. At one time she had placed money faithfully for 30 months into a little box hidden in her mud house. After she lost her job she opened up her savings so she could use it in her time of need. She counted out 30 metacais, or in American dollars...$1.08. I didn't know whether to laugh with her or cry. We continued to discuss the value of following God's wisdom even with the tiniest amount of money. Like the widow, could they trust Him to provide even when He is asking the absurd?
I left my friends that day wondering what implausable plea God was asking of me...and perhaps you. Are we willing to respond so the oil and flour will never stop flowing?
On pay day, the activistas and I were discussing Elijah and the widow who had only a bit of oil and a bit of flour left in her house. She informed Elijah that she was going to cook it for herself and her son and then die. Elijah instructed her to go home and bake bread for him first. Would you do it?
How far are you willing to trust God in difficult circumstances? The activistas receive $27 a month in salary. Most are widowed with children in their care. It isn't that the cost of living in Dondo is less than the U.S. Food at the grocery store is high: a pound of butter $7.16; margarine $4.50; small can of tuna $2.12; small bag of apples $5.40; and for the epicurean appetite - 2 oz. of Tabasco sauce $5.00. Then there are the outlays of clothing, housing, schooling, transportation...the list goes on.
I asked the activistas if they could begin to put some of their $27 into a savings each month. After all, Proverbs 13:11 says putting money away little by little makes it grow. They looked at me like the widow must have looked at Elijah, "Is this the voice of reason?" An activista's eyes brightened and she laughed. At one time she had placed money faithfully for 30 months into a little box hidden in her mud house. After she lost her job she opened up her savings so she could use it in her time of need. She counted out 30 metacais, or in American dollars...$1.08. I didn't know whether to laugh with her or cry. We continued to discuss the value of following God's wisdom even with the tiniest amount of money. Like the widow, could they trust Him to provide even when He is asking the absurd?
I left my friends that day wondering what implausable plea God was asking of me...and perhaps you. Are we willing to respond so the oil and flour will never stop flowing?
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