A Testimony at Indian Ocean!

The way God answers prayers.

“Lord, please just let me speak your name, tell your story even just one time today.”

Naomi, Karen and I had met these children on our 30 minute walk to the beach. (The Indian Ocean!) One of the boys in the group had fallen off his scooter in the middle of the road as an oncoming vehicle was driving towards us. It was very nerve wracking for Naomi, Karen and I, but the children just laughed. It didn’t phase them at all.

Thanks be to the Lord that nothing worse than a couple scrapes resulted from the fall. By the Lord’s provision, I actually had ice cubes in my water bottle. (I had accidentally burned my thumb on a pot that morning.) I gave a piece to the boy who had fallen to clean me cool his scrapes. I also handed out extra ice, just for fun, to the others. They liked that.

Drawing in the sand with a stick, I illustrated the story of Jesus to my new friends. Whatever I drew they would draw. This caused me to be intentional about what I drew. I wanted to let the Holy Spirit move through storytelling.

After picturing the gospel, I told my own story of experiencing the love and forgiveness of God in the sand. I pointed to the stick figure of the girl, indicating it was me. The children understood my implication by pointing first at the figure and then to me. Our doodles were simple but their significance was great. No language barrier can stop a good story needing to be told.

I noticed throughout the day with the kids that if I made quick movements, even of the friendliest nature towards the children, they would jump as if I were aiming to harm them.

It broke my heart.

I loved them then.

“Jesus. Your Jesus; He failed me.”

I found myself conversing with the mother of the group of children. She, along with her husband and firstborn, was drunk. (For safety and respect sake, I won’t use her name but simply call her “the mother”.) Even though her head was spinning in conversation, her heart managed to be revealed clearly.

“Who is Jesus?”

She asked me defiantly, as if anticipating that what I had to say would not satisfy her.

In her late 30s, she had gone through intense pain and loss and over time concluded that Jesus had failed her. I sat, simply listening to her words. I was feeling out her questions and inwardly mourning her brokenness.

As she explained her life story she smiled, she scowled, she laughed, she waved her hands about and her eyes often looked into mine – searching my face for a sign, for something to convince her to live differently. She explained that she was determined to just live life and enjoy herself because Jesus hadn’t helped her. She even stated that I should stop sharing about Jesus but to simply enjoy life.

(The problem with that is…As a lover of Christ, I can only enjoy my life if I share about His unconditional love towards everyone through his sacrifice and atonement. 😉

“Convince me. Convince me!” She said.

“I can’t convince you.”

Her soul longed to be convinced of the whole Jesus thing but it would not be. So I didn’t try to convince her, I only tried to love her. Only the Holy Spirit moving could truly convince her. I trust and pray that my words were not being spoken but the only love of the Holy Spirit was exuding from my lips.

She continued, asking why I had travelled from America to South Africa just to share about Jesus.

“I’ve come here to love Jesus by loving people. I love you.”

Her expression altered entirely and in bashful but pleased surprise.

She put her hand to her chest saying, “Me? You love me?”

I do.

Mercy, one of my squad mates, had joined me mid conversation for extra support as the husband had joined our conversation some minutes prior. Mercy prayed with the mother while I spoke with the husband. Preceding the prayer, (which the mother actually led) it is important to note that she had taken out two coins, beginning their prayer ritual. She and her husband were ready to pay to pray.

But Mercy and I demonstrated a new way of prayer that day: one with our words and our hearts, not money. The husband spoke his worldview to me as his wife and Mercy prayed beside us.

“I have seen things. That is why I don’t believe in Jesus.” He paused and considered his own words.

”Nothing is new, everything has been done.” His words echoed Ecclesiastes.

“There is nothing more to do.” This is very true.

“There is only to love.” There is only to love.

His tired eyes would shift around but would quickly return back to mine. His gaze spoke louder than words saying,

Do you actually understand me?

His soul groaned because nothing and no one would satisfy and truly know him. I smiled with sorrow and I nodded silently wishing I could truly understand his heart. Only the Lord knows what lies inside a man’s heart.

“Just love.”

Those are the words that the husband and I ended the conversation with. It is amazing that we both agree on that one point, yet it is heartbreaking that the husband won’t allow himself to experience Jesus’ shower of love. The mother hugged me goodbye.

“You are very quiet,” she said to me, “but you were very nice to me. I like you.”

The Holy Spirit blessed my honest attempt at genuine compassion and love. The mother smiled at me, and I knew her heart had been touched by the Holy Ghost.

I want to encourage you all to keep on loving and living wholly for Jesus. When we work together in this holy mission, especially on different ends of the earth, revolutions occur and life returns to those still walking in darkness.

Thank you for journeying with me! I am praying for you all!

Please thank the Lord for:

• Answering my prayer to share His story above and beyond what I had expected on that Spirit filled beach day!

Please ask the Lord:

• That I would be filled each day with boldness and determination to share the Gospel of Jesus’ love!

With my affection and prayer,

Lia.