Last week was busy with the first of the evangelistic campaigns.  This one was a healing campaign by a group from Sweeden.  It was advertised as a “Festival of Miracles and Healings.”  Not being very used to this sort of thing, Jennifer and I both have mixed feelings about it:  on the one hand many people attended and heard the gospel, many people testified to being healed and delivered, and many people indicated they were accepting Jesus for the first time.  But on the other hand, there were also many people who did not.  Jen and I watched from the back as people arrived full of hope and expectation and left very much disappointed.  We struggled to hear the message as the crowd around us chatted away, sometimes mocking the proceedings, clearly only interested to see if anyone would be healed.  The healings themselves were also difficult to see, and, from the perspective of an unbeliever, not very convincing.  We believe they were genuine.  We know the team to be wonderful Christians and got to interact with them on a personal level.  We believe many people did in fact receive Christ.  But it was rather difficult to understand why God chose to heal some and not others; why God allowed so much room for doubt and unbelief; and why there seemed to be an equal amount of sorrow as there was joy.  At the end of the day I am resigned to trust that God’s ways are higher than mine, His wisdom much greater than my own. 

     Still, despite some confusion, there is one personal story I am excited to share.  It’s the story of Calissa.  Since I had had the opportunity to share the gospel with Calissa, I decided I would invite him to go with me on the first night of the crusade.  I did not tell him it was a “healing festival.”  I just decided to let him experience it without any preconceived ideas and see what would happen.  Interestingly enough, Calissa stayed through the end of the gospel presentation and then received a phone call from his boss.  We noticed as he talked on the phone that he was clearly disturbed by something, but we did not know what.  He ended up having to leave even before any prayers had been offered for the sick. 

     A couple days later, he asked me if I would be willing to take his father to the campaign.  I was rather surprised by this but happy to comply.  I asked him what he had thought of it, and he told me we would have to sit down and talk later.  So the following night I helped him take his father.  His family is Landouma, but they live in Correrah (the Jahango village), and his father has severe back problems, so that he can’t walk around very easily.  That night the event went well.  Large crowds were in attendance.  The church noticeably improved their organization, having faced lots of chaos the first night.  The presentations and prayers were very simple and effective—actually I loved the humility of it all.  Each night after giving a gospel message the speaker would pray a large group prayer, inviting people to pray themselves in Jesus’ name to be healed.  Without any other drama or flare, he would then instruct them to check their bodies right where they were to see if God had done any miracles—Many people testified to being healed, and I had the opportunity afterwards to pray for several others still seeking healing and deliverance from evil spirits.

     After the program ended, I drove Calissa and his father home.  Calissa does not live with his father, so he and I found ourselves together in the car with some time to talk.  Right away he told me that if the people at the stadium had truly accepted Jesus they would be healed.  I asked him if he believed the things about Jesus were true.  He said, “yes.”  I asked him if he had prayed and accepted Jesus into his heart.  He told me that he had already done it the first night.  He then went on to share that the past few years he has struggled with stomach problems.  They grip his belly for a few hours every afternoon, leaving him weak and unable to work.  He shared that the night of the campaign, when he accepted Jesus the pain had gone away, and he hadn’t felt it again since.  That was why he was so eager to bring his dad. Calissa wanted to see if he would get healed too.  As far as I know he was not, but he did ask if he could go the following night.

     As we were leaving Correrah, Calissa also asked me to stop the car to say hi to his boss.  His boss’ daughter has eye problems.  They invited me into the house and asked that I would pray for her to be healed.  I took a few minutes to share with them about Jesus Christ, that He is the Son of God, died on the cross for our sins, and is the only one who can give true healing.  I told them that to truly find freedom they had to accept Him and follow Him.  I also explained that they should get rid of any witchcraft they had in the house.  Immediately the father reached behind the door and brought out a bag full and tossed them out the door.  We then prayed for the girl and left.

     Overall, I think the lasting impact of the campaign is that it has opened the doors to share about Jesus.  People here love to see supernatural powers and “miracles,” and there is indeed a lot of power amongst the Marabou and Shamans.  But now they have been exposed to the fact that Jesus also has power, and they are being confronted with the fact that He is the only one with power to forgive sins and give eternal life.  The Jahango also have heard the news and are asking questions.  Many of them went to the campaigns and heard the presentations, and the Sweedish team took time today to meet with and pray for various individuals from the village.  We don’t know what the people are thinking, but we know God is stirring things up and continuing His work amongst them.  We continue to hope and pray God will do big things.  And we continue to feel blessed that we are able to play a small part in it.  Praise the Lord!

     Lord please use the events of this past week to draw people into your mercy and grace.  Please reveal yourself to them and convince them of your truth.  Please protect those who did not receive healing from hard hearts and bitterness.  Please continue to bring healing and miracles as a testimony of your power and love.  Thank you, Lord!  Amen

     In writing the last update I forgot to share about our neighbor’s wedding.  Bagui is an older gentleman, maybe mid fifties or early sixties—I’m not even sure if Bagui is his real name, but it’s painted across his house in large bold letters, so that’s what I’ve been calling him.   During our time here Bagui has been the poor, old batchelor, coming and going at random times, somewhat unkempt, and missing most of his teeth.  He’s always very cheerful and very friendly.  He’s the one that asked me to help him fix up his house and invited me to his wedding.  He became so insistant that I agreed and fully planned on driving him to and from the wedding.  The date was set for Sunday, January 27^th.  He had told me this two months in advance and confirmed it every chance he saw me. 

     Finally, the weekend of the wedding arrived.  I was all set to go that Sunday, having carved out the time and made sure there was gas in my car.  However, the Saturday before the event we had some shopping to do.  When we returned from Kamsar, the ladies next door were outside preparing a large feast, like they had done at Tabasky.  Just then one of them ran up to me and announced that the date of the wedding had been moved up and our neighbor was getting married that day, probably even as we were speaking—through this event I’ve learned that Africans make plans quite differently than us Americans make plans.  When we plan an event, we check and make sure all the details line up, then fix the date and announce it.  When Africans make plans, they announce the date first, then check on all the details.  The assumption is that everyone is flexible and can change at a moment’s notice, so it’s not so important to keep the exact date.  Of course for us Americans, it’s totally preposterous to change the date at the last moment as it will inconvenience everyone else’s plans and most people won’t be able to make it—I  was shocked at this sudden change of plans, a little bit offended that he hadn’t confirmed this with me (I was after all supposed to be the guest of honor and the chauffeur), and yet relieved that I wouldn’t have to drive all that way after all.  I was even more relieved as our neighborhood waited and waited for the arrival of the bridal party and the beginning of the party.  As the hours ticked by, I thanked God I hadn’t been able to go, imagining myself stranded in a strange village, waiting in the hot sun for this bridal couple to finish greeting all their relatives, friends, neighbors, acquantainces, etc… 

    

     Finally, about 10 p.m., just as Jen and I were laying our heads down to sleep, a loud cheer rang out, and the bridal party drove up.  The celebrations began, and loud voices could be heard for the next three hours.  At 1 a.m. the music started and went on for probably another four hours, being intermittently interrupted by a rather annoying D.J.  Finally all was quiet and it was just about time to wake up and go to church. 

     As we were driving out that morning, Bagui ran up to the car.  He was beaming.  Dressed in slacks, a sports jacket, and a golf hat, he quickly apologized for the change in plans and invited us over to meet the new bride.  Jen and I politely walked over, trying to figure out from amongst the crowd which one was the lucky girl.  Hiding in the back, behind a large group of girls her age, was the saddest person I have ever seen.  Here was a beautiful, young girl, maybe 20 years at best, on the of her wedding, and she looked miserable.

      Like most marriages here, this was an arranged one.  We were told that due to his age, the bride would probably be mentally handicapped or have some kind of major defect.  But from what we could tell, she was completely healthy, very pretty, with no visible defect at all.  It’s possible she was somewhat promiscuous or disobedient in her village, or possibly her family could no longer provide for her and just wanted to get rid of her as fast as possible.  Either way, it was such a sad sight for us to see.  It did, however, shed light on the issue of family.  From what we’ve observed, there is a severe lack of love within the families here.  Couples regularly fight and yell at each other; husbands often beat their wives; infidelity and affairs are very common; parents yell at and beat their kids; kids are disobedient and rebellious, etc…  It’s become apparent to us that when marriages start off without any love, when women are simply given to a man to fulfill his domestic needs, when a man is free to marry as many wives as he wants, and when kids just become a bi-product of those relationships without love or mutual affection, then the whole system breaks down.  And then when you factor into this the absence of any real love with the Father, the situation begins to look quite hopeless.  Indeed, life amongst these Muslim communities, and within the Jahango especially, is rather bleak and broken.  The only thing that seems to hold the society together is a strong sense of duty.  People stay “married” out of obligation (actually divorce is nonexistent because a man can just remarry any time he is dissatisfied with his wife, or if the wife were to leave him).  Families and neighbors help each other out of obligation.  People follow the rules out of obligation.  They are even very religious, simply out of obligation.  If one were to break these obligations, the community would retaliate by publicly shaming them, rejecting them, and cutting them off from this support system.  Therefore everyone conforms.

      Now I’m sure there is probably some good that exists in these communities, and perhaps I’ve exaggerated the situation in my mind, but it does reveal the depravity of sin and life without God.  In order for man to live a happy, joyful, fulfilled life, God’s love must be central.  Without it, everything breaks down and becomes painful and difficult, a life filled with despair and hopelessness, like the young girl now trapped and bound to a man almost three times her age who will never really love her, never really understand her or care for her.  Instead she will spend the rest of her life feeling used, fighting for every inch of freedom and dignity she can get.  It saddens us to watch this, but it confirms for us yet again the need for Jesus.  Even if the stories of Jesus were all a lie, even if the gospel weren’t true, how much better life in Christ really is.  Christian homes and families may not be perfect, but the foundation God gives us in love and marriage is far better than any other I’ve seen.  At least here there is hope.  At least here there is freedom to choose.  At least here there is a power and a motivation that helps us to work things out and care for each other when everything seems to be going wrong.

     Thank you, Lord, for giving us love as the foundation of marriage and family.  Thank you for giving us the perfect example of love in the image of your Son and His love for the Church.  And thank you for the privilege of reflecting that image in our marriages.  Help us, God, to love one another, to stay faithful and pure, to honor and serve each other, to care for each other.  Help us to be examples to the world of what strong marriages should look like.  May they be drawn to you when they watch us carry out our relationships before them.  Amen!

The hot weather is almost here.  For the past couple months we’ve had dry season.  There hasn’t been a single drop of rain and everything has turned dusty and brown.  Where there were once large fields of green grass, there is now nothing but charred ground, having been intentionally burned by the locals to prevent forest fires later.  The roads that used to be full of muddy potholes are now covered with dust which flies up in the air anytime a car or motorcycle goes by.  People literally run and hide when we drive past. 

  The nice thing is that this season has also been cooler.  For us Americans it hasn’t really seemed cold, but it’s been comfortable.  In the mornings we would actually wake up feeling chilly, slip on a sweater and drink tea to warm ourselves up.  The afternoons were warm, but bearable, and overall we were enjoying the season tremendously.  But suddenly the coolness vanished.  We had two days of unexpected rain showers, and with them a shift in the seasons.  The rains are gone, and it’s now starting to feel just plain hot.  Surprisingly our mango trees have also noticed the change in season and are starting to bear fruit.  I don’t know where they get the water from, but they’ll be quite prolific soon.

     By comparison, things with the Jahangos have also been heating up, but in a good way.  After years and years of prayer and service, the team is finally beginning to see signs of fruit.  For the past few months the Snetselaars have been bringing Dalouba to church with them.  Though very young and primitive in her understanding of the gospel, she seems to display a genuine belief in Jesus and a hunger to know and experience more.  The young men around Cees’ house have also been discussing and reading passages of the Bible, asking questions and expressing their concerns and opinions.  After watching a video titled, “God of Wonders,” they told Cees they felt this was indeed the truth.  Emma and her Jahango husband, Soriba, have also been coming to church regularly.  They tell us they pray and read the Bible together everyday.  This is quite miraculous as Jahango couples don’t normally do anything together. 

     These stories and many more are evidence of the fact that God is on the move.  In fact, God has been moving this whole time.  Just like the underground streams bringing water to our mango trees, God’s spirit is present, subtly working in people’s hearts, throughout the community, drawing people to himself in the most unexpected ways.  As proof of this, last week Cees and Andres traveled to Conakry where God brought them into contact with a Jahango man who has been a Christian for over 20 years.  No one from our team even knew this man existed, and here we find that he is a mature believer, working for a Christian Bible institute, living and teaching in the capital city.  We’re very excited about the role this man could possibly play in the Bible translation project, reaching his own people group, and more. 

    Finally, to top it all off, we’ve received word this week that there are three major evangelistic crusades coming to Boke in the next three months.  Boke is a small town by comparison to Conakry or other big cities of Guinea, and yet there it is.  Half jokingly Andres proposed we rent a bus and cart everyone from Correrah to these events.  We’re not sure what it will mean for the Jahango, but it’s for sure that they’ll hear of these events and quite possibly be curious enough to attend on their own initiative.

   I’m not really looking forward to the hotter weather.  April and May are supposed to be especially unbearable.  But if it means we get to witness all of Boke, Correrah, and the Jahango people on fire for Jesus, then I’m all in.  Now is the time to pray, even more fervently than before.  God is starting to manifest Himself in visible, tangible ways, we are starting to see the fruits of years and years of labor, so let us double our efforts that we may share in the victory that He is sure to accomplish.  To God be the glory!

     “We praise you Lord for the fruit we are beginning to see amongst the Jahango.  Thank you for the Snetselaars and their many years of faithful service.  Thank you for the Galvez and their commitment and service amongst these people.  Thank you, Lord for your faithfulness in reaching the lost and bringing your Kingdom here on earth as it is in Heaven.  Please, Lord, continue this work in our midst.  Cast out the darkness and bring forth your light.  Protect the believers from persecution and harm.  Open people’s hearts to knowing and believing in you.  Pour out your power and love, Lord.  Display your glory.  Amen!”