Peek-A-Boo

November 15, 2014

Two years ago, a man died. He was the husband of one of my employees. His death created waves of fear in Liza’s heart. She couldn’t sleep at night. She was afraid for the welfare of her family.

Nate and I visited her frequently. I would go to her home simply to sit with her. Sometimes we would pray together. Her countenance was different during that season. She was a strong, brave woman, but this sudden death rocked her and she didn’t know how to go forward.

Where would I be in that situation? Where would I be in that situation if I were Mozambican? Vulnerable, without protection, alone, with an unknown future… I couldn’t imagine.

Liza didn’t have a proper door on her home. She couldn’t lock herself and her family in at night. With fear that someone would come during the night, we helped put a new door on her home. It was the sweetest thing. It (the new door) still didn’t shut properly, you could only really close it from the inside – with a twisted nail that stuck out of the clay wall, and there were holes to pay peek-a-boo between the slots. But, Liza was thrilled. She had never had a nice wooden door, let alone one that she could close and ‘lock.’ It helped her to feel safe and that’s that really mattered.

As time passed, Liza’s bad dreams stopped, she said that her heartbeats calmed and her smile and laugh returned.

Six months ago, Nate and I invited a missionary from Zambia to teach a discipleship course with our staff. He and his family had come to Mozambique 20+ years prior. Their ‘plan’ had been to establish a solid church with healthy leadership, release it to the local community and return to Zambia. Twenty years later, they’re still establishing that strong church. (There is a lot of animism, ancestral worship, and witchcraft in this culture).

Liza had grown up in a Christian home, but had become Muslim when she married a gentleman from the mosque. After the first discipleship course, I walked with Liza back to her home. There seemed to be a skip in her step. She laughed, cocking her head back, and her eyes shone brightly. Something was happening in her spirit.

As she rolled out the bamboo mat on her small clay verandah, shaded by the grass roof above us, I watched her – intently. Something had changed. ‘I felt God speak to my heart’, she said. ‘He is inside me’ she boldly proclaimed. ‘I feel free. I feel light’.

Ecstatic over what the Lord was doing in her life, I prayed that the change would continue to happen and that she would embrace the Lord with open arms.

Two weeks ago, our discipleship course ended. Our staff thanked us profusely, saying that that their eyes had been opened to the true word of God, that their relationships with their spouses had changed and that their mindsets were being renewed. (Wow).

Liza came to us last week, in the quiet shy way that Mozambicans do. ‘I’m moving to the other side of the village’, she said softly. (She was currently living in the Muslim area of the village). ‘I’m going to start going to a Christian church.’

I cry even now, thinking about it. Jesus has come into this woman’s heart. I hired her 5 years ago to prepare lunch for the students during the feeding program. She had had a daughter in our school. Her daughter was always clean and didn’t miss a single day of school for the entire year. I knew this woman – Liza – could be counted on. I didn’t know what the Lord was going to do in her life. I thank Jesus that our paths crossed. I thank Jesus that He has brought me to Mozambique.

Joy to you, as you journey with the Lord,

Julie