I am now writing you from Rory and Judy Ervine’s patio overlooking the lake in Doma where Dani and I stayed three years ago. The rains have begun in earnest and all is green and mild. There is an electric sunset igniting the belly of the clouds. The crickets and birds are shouting their hallelujahs. They are oblivious to the brokenness of the Zimbabwean humans.
Dave and I have been bouncing down the roads in his muddy Land Rover to visit some of the villages we ministered to back in 2006. It is wonderful to make connections with so many old friends. We sit in thatched huts and drink tea whitened with goat’s milk. Our poor African hosts give all they can, but there is a look of pent up sadness as they discuss the sufferings of the last three years.
Coming directly from India as I have, I generally keep it to myself that life can become much more impoverished. Africans do not need to hear discouragement. What they need is for the country to repent in mass before Jesus. If they were to call on God, he has promised to heal their country. It worked fabulously for South Korea.
The more likely scenario is that only a minority of Zimbabweans will turn to God. In that case, those who trust Jesus will suffer along with their countrymen, but after death they will enjoy the blessing they always dreamed of. We are meeting some precious souls who are in fact headed for God’s reward. An example is Nhamo.
I took a long walk-about around the lake near where I am staying in Mhangura. This is more than twenty kilometers from where we worked in 2006. As the lake narrowed at the feed river, a stringy black man spotted me from the other side. He watched intently, which bothered me because I wanted to pass by his side and knew nothing of these people.
“Are you wanting a way across,” he shouted.
“Yes,” I returned.
“About one hundred meters more,” the man pointed and sent his skipping son to show me the way.
When I approached, we greeted in Shona, then he asked in a bass voice, “Don’t you know me? You baptized me in Doma three years back. My name is Nhamo.”
He took me to his property with its thatched roundovals enclosed by a grass-reed fence. There I met his wife who beamed a white smile as her husband explained who I was.
This has happened a couple of times. I am meeting people changed by the work Dave and I did when we labored together. Yesterday we spent the afternoon with Richard and his two wives and their 66 goats. They were converted from a polygamist cult during our prior outreaches (I mean Richard and his wives were converted, not the goats).
“Our husband has changed so much since he met Christ,” the younger wife told us through translation.
When we left, we took six of the goats in the back of the Land Rover. What a hoot to see those curious heads watching the landscape wiz by and hear them bleat. Although, I was not so happy when they peed on my knapsack.
I do not think I could normally wander through towns or around rural lakes, 20 kilometers from our previous ministry center, and stumble into people we led to Jesus. I believe these encounters were God’s way of saying, “By my power I have blessed your past work.”
The Lord wants me to see that ministry is still supernaturally fruitful and the greatest opportunity for any believer. What a joy to glimpse a fraction of what the Lord is doing. The blessings so far outweigh the sacrifices that I am not even mindful of anything lost.
Thank you Jesus for the privilege of being your servant. And thank you friends for praying for ministry success. We share together in the spoils.
JDC
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