This is Africa.
It’s a place where food is scarce, but fulfillment is
abundant.
It’s a place where sickness is rampant, but healing still
wins.
It’s a place where money is almost impossible to find, but I
see riches in the face of every orphaned child I see.
In Africa, girls play with dead dragonflies like they are
dolls.
In Africa, little boys with big, round bellies (that have
nothing to do with being fat) chase each other tirelessly – stopping only to
pick up their button-less shorts from around their ankles.
In Africa, the best part of a little girl’s day is when she
gets to eat the fish head leftover from cooking dinner… eyes, bones, scales, and
all.
In Africa, it’s the norm to play kickball barefoot. The
privileged few wear one shoe – because one is always better than none.
In Africa, when mom is sick with malaria, seven-year-old
girls stay home from school to watch their baby brothers.
In Africa, kindergarteners carry around razor blades in
their pockets as scissors, play hopscotch with shards of glass, and carry
around machetes like they are toy swords.
In Africa, 15 orphan girls pile on the bottom of two bunk
beds, sharing what little rice they have, and telling stories until they
collapse with laughter.
And in Africa, kids who were born during the civil war
recount the killing of their own family with about as much emotion as you would
read in a history book… but end the story smiling and saying, “but thanks to
God, there is hope.”
It’s a place where if I pick up a crying toddler who was run
over by the older kids, sit her on my knee, and give her a band aid for her
bleeding leg, she doesn’t leave my side for the rest of the day. Because for
one moment, someone saw her. And for that moment, it didn’t matter that her leg
was bleeding or that her clothes were falling apart because as I held her, she
knew she was being taken care of. Somehow I’m reminded of Christ and how when
we are hurt the world still bustles around us, but He hears our small cries in
the midst of all that chaos. He walks over to us, as if we are the only one He
sees, and He quietly sits us on His lap, healing all our wounds. I wish I could
say I was as faithful to never leave His side as Jamanas is with me.
You see, Africa is a place where people pray, knowing their
prayers cannot be answered by anyone else except the Lord. A few days ago, a
pastor stood in front of his church, praising God for three young Americans who
came to Africa, not knowing exactly why they came. Yet God knew He wanted to
use them to answer the faithful prayers of a church in the remnants of an
African war zone.
As this shaking old man stands in front of this church, he
begs for continued prayers from the members, but this time it is for the rain
to hold off – a seemingly impossible request as the it pours down at that very
moment into the church that Sunday morning. But his words still ring clear. “I
know that God has sent them to do this, so I know that God will stop the rain
as well.” Such assurance. Such faith. My finite and doubting mind tells myself,
“I sure hope he’s right.” That night, it rains and pours – much harder than
usual. I wake up 6, 7, 8 times, and immediately start praying, “God, let it all
pour now, but please, make it stop so the boys can work” When I wake up in the
morning, my heart sinks because it is still raining… heavily. Shane comes into
my room with a discouraged look on his face. We are all a little dismayed.
But soon, we are off for the orphanage on our “ping-pings”
(motorbikes). It is still raining, yet it is beginning to let up. But I know
the question on all of our mind’s asks, “Is it really going to stop?” The boys
begin carrying the new roofing zinc from the orphanage to the church. And it’s
still sprinkling. They grab the ladder next. And the rain is still coming. Then
the wood and the nails. The rain continues to fall. And just as they begin to
climb up the ladder and onto the roof, the rain completely stops. Everyone
starts to look around. “Can this be for real? Surely it will start raining
again soon.” But then Mama Betty starts dancing and singing in her native
language “Jesus can do it easy. When you pray to Jesus, He can do it all easy”
and she laughs as if she knew it all along. She did. We all should have known.
It reminds me of all those Bible stories where people pray for rain in a
drought and God answers. Yet somehow when we hear those stories in the Bible we
assume that God sent them some super natural sign that it was His doing – in
addition to the weather of course. Because the rain stopping at just the right
time for the boys to start the roof was just chance… right? Ha!
So the rain stops for the rest of the day and again for the
next day. The end of day 2 on the roof comes around and it is already 2/3 of
the way finished. As the boys climb the latter again and finish hammering in
that very last nail for the day, the rain starts to fall. And not a moment too
soon.
All night the rain pours, the thunder booms, and the
lightening flashes. I lay in my bed wide-awake for hours, mostly out of fear,
but praying every moment. “Let it stop by the morning… let it stop by the
morning.” Sometime I fall asleep and wake up to the sun shining through my
window. Again, He has answered our prayers. Later in the afternoon I meet with
the girls for our Bible study and we hit on “presenting your requests to God”
(Phil 4:4-7) and the rain starts to fall again. I start to question why God has
allowed it to rain while the boys are roofing, but we stop and pray. By the end
of the prayer the rain is stopped and I get the feeling someone in there needed
to see God’s goodness and the power of prayer. Maybe it was me.
As the end of the day rolls around and I walk towards the church
to see the project. Thunder booms through the sky. Joanna, whom I affectionately
call “my African sister,” looks at me and says in her Liberian English, “Sis
Bekah, rain is coming.” We stand at the base of the church and the mountains
begin to disappear behind the heavy rain as the final sheets are being lifted
to the rooftop. Everyone murmurs doubts of finishing in time before the storm
hits, but a bright, full rainbow appears between the church and the approaching
rain. As the last of the nails are being hammered into the roof, the rain
starts to pour down and everyone runs inside the church to take cover. I am smiling from ear to ear because I
know the rainbow was a reminder of God’s promise to us – that He would hold the
weather off while the roof was being fixed. He did so too perfectly. I think
back to the first day and how it rained until the time the work began. And now,
the very minute the roof is finished, the sky pours down rain again.
So you see, this is Africa. Where most people would look
around and say it’s is a place God has forsaken, but those who live here are
assured that God has not forgotten them. It is here where the Spirit of God
moves freely because He is begged to do so and the people cry out to Him with
greater hunger pains that the ones screaming in their stomachs. And though
everywhere people are dying of starvation, thirst, and preventable diseases,
God is here and He’s making it known.
Bekah, thanks so much for sharing your trip with us! It is truly a blessing to me to read your posts! Love and prayers to all 3 of you! Love, Martha. PS. You should write professionally! Your posts are beyond beautiful !
ReplyDeleteoh my...oh my...you are blessing us once again with you words...please tell Mama Betty that I am holding onto her "Jesus can do it easy". This post has left me at a loss for words and a face of tears. I love you sweet girl. g
ReplyDeleteDitto the former reply! Words fail me as I type through the tears...I am humbled beyond words too...You, Tim, and Shane, are in my daily prayers sweet Bekah! love to you all...Aunt Karla
ReplyDeleteBekah. You are beautiful. These stories are beautiful. But most importantly, God is beautiful! Thanks for sharing how awesome our God is! God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good!
ReplyDeleteBekah-what an amazing gift you have for telling your story, and what an amazing story God has given you to tell. Keep the stories coming as we continue to support you with our prayers. Give Tim a big hug for me & love to both of you.
ReplyDeleteAunt Joan
Writing through tear filled eyes . . . what a precious portrayal of God's grace. I continue to pray for you every single day and am so touched by your blogs. You are a precious, faithful servant and I love hearing how God is using you all to minister to the precious "least of these". Blessings, hugs and prayers, my dear.
ReplyDeleteLaNell
Gave me goosebumps and tears, wow. Faith like a mustard seed can move mountains, and stop rain
ReplyDelete