disappointed in myself...saved by God's grace...

So, I have concluded that at some point in the life and ministry of a missionary, you feel like you just don’t have what it takes, that you’ve failed at something in particular, or that you feel inadequate to the task before you. It’s part of being human. My dear friend, Jenny, spent 3 months in Kenya this year and she blogged once about being the worst missionary ever. Now if you know her as I do, you would be thinking there is no way that she would ever be called that. After being in Africa for over a month now, I have experienced that same feeling. This last week I definitely felt the overwhelming heaviness that I was the worst missionary ever. Let me explain…

This last week my fellow Kansans and I had the opportunity to travel to our friend’s village (the village where Sonny was born, he is the basketball coach at the center in Eastleigh in Nairobi). We took a 4-ish hour bus ride, spent a night in Mwanza, met up with Sonny and Lynette (our friend from Eastleigh, she plays some mad b-ball and Sonny is her coach) and headed on an 8 hour bus ride to the town of Bukoba, then hopped a 45min taxi ride to the village. African travel is definitely an adventure. Sonny’s mother comes from the Haya tribe and they are known for building their homes amongst the banana trees, so we got dropped off on the side of the highway and walked the footpaths through the banana fields to the mud house and hut. It was almost a bit surreal.

Our first full day in the village was spent going around the village and meeting Sonny’s extended family, entering their homes to say hello and introduce ourselves and then heading on our way. We even walked to the next town to see Sonny’s sister, who has quite a bit of land on a hillside and we hiked to the top for one of the most amazing views I have ever seen. We were so close to the Ugandan border that we decided to make a small pit stop, took pictures at the Uganda sign and returned to the village to have dinner with the family.

Our second day there started so beautifully. I awoke to the sound of Sonny praying out loud in English. He was praying over his mother’s house and his family; casting out demons in Jesus’ name, demons of laziness, poverty, oppression, disease, etc. He also prayed for the entire village to know Christ and prayed blessings upon them. I thank God for allowing me to witness Sonny’s heart, his genuineness, his love for God and most of all for blessing me with an example to follow. Now, after a start like that, how could things go wrong? “Things” didn’t actually go wrong it was more my fallible humanity that got in the way. And here’s where the “worst missionary ever” story continues…

The previous day I had cut up my feet pretty bad hiking and walking was almost excruciating. I didn’t bring a pair of tennis shoes so I had absolutely no protection for the cuts I had received. I just had to wear my sandals and get over it. Easier said than done. The plans for our morning that second day was to visit Sonny’s uncle in the village. I’m thinking no big deal, right? Just a short jaunt into the village to say a quick hello and then my feet could rest easy for the day. Well, as you may have guessed it wasn’t a short walk and mind you we are on footpaths in the bush, not a paved road. I spent a large portion of the walk being angry about the pain of my feet and wishing that everyone wouldn’t walk so fast so I could keep up. I was almost wishing I hadn’t come for this particular visit and I was most angry about having such an awful attitude about it. Every time we would approach a dwelling I was praying that it was the one, and it wasn’t about 3 or 4 times before reaching our destination.

On our way to Sonny’s uncle, we came upon a woman who was ill and hadn’t been able to talk in a long time. Sonny asked us to stop, share a word with her, lay hands on her and pray. It was such a moving experience that you would have thought it would have turned my bad attitude around, and I am ashamed to say that it didn’t. I kept arguing with God…wondering if this is really where He wanted me on this particular morning. It was great to pray with that woman, but I was being selfish and wanted to be free of pain and I apparently couldn’t get past the pain. We continued on, visited his uncle, stayed for a bit and prayed over him and his house and headed back. We made another stop on our way home, one that God used to slap me out of my selfishness and experience the power and glory of my creator. When we stopped and prayed for the woman, a young boy witnessed us and followed us from there to Sonny’s uncles and asked if we would come and pray over him, his education and his home. After talking with him, we found out that his mother had died, and I am not sure that his father was around much.

So, here I was, complaining to God about how badly my feet hurt and wishing it wasn’t so hot and that I had brought a bottle of dasani with me…blah blah blah. And here was this young boy who had followed us, waited for us and had the courage to ask for prayer. Probably one of the most humbling experiences of my life. We sat around him, laid our hands upon him and prayed for his life, his family, his education, blessed his house and as the tears streamed down my face I was so humbled and thankful that despite my poor attitude, God graced me with getting a glimpse of the power of prayer and how much intercessory prayer means to people. May I never miss out on an opportunity like this again because of my own personal convenience and comfort. God is so much bigger than my pain and I only pray that he would continue to stretch me, my understanding and my faith; and that He would continue to open my heart and take away the things and attitudes that cause me to miss out on giving Him all the glory.

“As a saved soul, the real business of your life intercessory prayer…” ~Oswald Chambers