Sierra Leone Day 3

I woke up this morning pretty early, still working out my sermon in my head. We left at about 9am to go to Pastor Andrew's church. Most of the team went to his church (about 12 of us), and 5 or 6 divided up among 2 other churches. The building was like a large brick warehouse with a corrugated metal roof. Stepping into the building was like stepping into a sauna! I've never sweat so much in all my life! All of the guys were dressed in long sleeved shirts and ties, and the girls all wore dresses with sleeves that went below the knees.
I guess we must have been gluttons for punishment, because when worship started we all began to jump and dance around in the back with all of the children. About half of the people in the building were young children. Ryan held Heidi, pastor Andrew's daughter, and when he set her down there was a perfect imprint of her body in sweat on his shirt, if that gives you any idea of the temperature.

Ryan got up and introduced our team and gave a short intro leading up to my sermon topic, which was vulnerability. I basically shared the journey of vulnerability that God has taken me on this last year. I told them that we have no intimacy without vulnerability and vulnerability is all about risk. Shame is the fear of not being worthy of connection, and it's what most often keeps us from intimacy.
Vulnerability, I learned, is not just about sharing your faults and struggles, it's doing something with no guarantee of success, investing in relationships that might not work, sharing dreams, passions, ideas and fears, and even just admitting when you aren't doing okay. I also shared how God had been teaching me what it means to be vulnerable with Him. It seems like a strange concept, since He knows everything about me, but again, it all comes down to risk. Am I willing to risk possibly being disappointed by God? Am I willing to risk praying for healing? Am I willing to risk stepping out when the Holy Spirit prompts me? Am I willing to risk looking foolish for his glory? God has shown me that I have as much intimacy with Him as I'm willing to risk. I urged them to make a covenant with God to stay soft in His hands and to commit to remaining vulnerable even when it feels like our risks sometimes leave us disappointed.
Unfortunately, they didn't plan on having an interpreter, and asked for a volunteer that had any kind of high school education to help translate. Because Krio is composed of a lot of English, I could tell that he wasn't always translating well. For example, every time I said "risk", he said "rest". I also felt like he may have censored a few things. In the end, though, I trust in the Holy Spirit's ability to translate, and 1 Cor 1:21 says, "...for God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe", which makes me feel a lot better about the whole thing.
Afterwards, we lined up and asked the Holy Spirit to give us words of knowledge about things He wanted to heal among the congregation. I felt like God wanted to heal stomach problems, so when it was my turn, I called out the word and several people lined up in front of me to get prayer for stomach issues. Without a translator it was difficult to understand the exact problems, but two women I prayed for said the pain left when I prayed. The third person I prayed for was a man who had heart problems. I was fortunate enough to have a translator at that point, and so when I prayed for him, he started taking deep breaths and his face lit up. He told me through the translator that his breathing had improved quite a bit. I'm guessing that he must have had congestive heart failure or something of that nature. Other people saw back pain healed, and one lady's leg even grew out!
After church we went to a place called the Country Lodge, which was a former President's home that was converted into a resort. We were served a 7 or 8 course Lebanese meal of humus, lamb skewers, meat pies and other interesting and delicious foods. We were all allowed to order dessert as well, even though dessert was about 8 American dollars each! We really suffered for the Gospel on this trip...

We got to see a few monkeys from the restaurant balcony, but I didn't get any pictures as they were fairly shy. Andre, Ann-Lis and Anthea's brother, was at lunch with us and he generously paid for the entire meal, which must have been quite a lot of money, with about 24 people. We relaxed at the restaurant for the rest of the afternoon until evening. At one point Honey, who has a natural gift for engaging people in conversation and sharing the love of Jesus, struck up a conversation with a woman. After a while she learned that the woman's husband is a middle eastern ambassador to Sierra Leone! What's more, this woman graciously invited our team to have breakfast with her and her family during our stay! Unfortunately, it never ended up working out because of scheduling issues, but we still got to bless her and her family.

From left to right: Pastor Lake and his wife Hannah, Andre, his son Dominic, and Cynthia

We got back to the hotel to discover they had dinner ready for us even though we were all stuffed. The guys and some of the girls ate a second time, and I had a fruit cocktail and went to bed thoroughly satisfied. Food and pleasant weather are two of my love languages , and we enjoyed both in excess today (yes I made those love languages up, but they should add them to the list, don't you think?).

Sierra Leone Day 2

I woke up this morning wide awake at 5am starving (thank you, jet lag). So I sat in the dark like a creeper eating beef jerky until I didn't feel the hunger pains anymore, and I fell back asleep. I woke up again at about 6:30 to the sound of roosters crowing...I must be in Africa. I was the first person up at 7am, which is obviously the work of jet lag, as I am emphatically not a morning person. I was expecting John and Kaysie to come to the hotel at 9am, but since they assumed I would sleep in like everyone else, I waited around on the balcony. I ate breakfast, which was fried plantains and some kind of beef in a brown sauce (both were delicious).

                                                      Pictures I took from the hotel balcony

A few of the girls and I decided to go for a walk through the neighborhood and venture down to the water.

Finally, at about 11am John found us on our walk, so the girls kept walking and I went back to the hotel. We hung out on the balcony with some of the team and Aden kept everyone entertained with games of peek-a-boo.

I kept blowing bubbles with my gum, and Aden's eyes would get really wide and then he would frown. He smiled at everyone except me at first. We concluded that I look too much like his Dad, and maybe he didn't know what to think. After awhile, John and Kaysie asked Ryan if they could steal me away and he said yes. They drove me along the coast and showed me parts of the city while I snacked on fresh cashews and played with Aden. We ate at one of their favorite restaurants...Basha's (no connection to the grocery store, haha). It's a Lebanese place that they love because they serve wraps that are sort of like machaca burritos. The wrap was good, but they put some kind of tangy coleslaw-like stuff on there that wasn't my favorite. The rotisserie chicken and fries, on the other hand, were fantastic.
We talked and visited for a long time about African culture and things going on with people back home. All the Africans smiled and were interested in Aden. We decided to go for an ice-cream, but we ran into many closed roads, closed businesses and political parades for the upcoming elections in November. John and Kaysie informed me that everyone is on edge because they aren't sure if they will be peaceful. They may go across the border just in case. They dropped me off at about 4pm at the hotel because John had a meeting.
At the hotel, they passed out paper to make prophetic art for someone on Andrew's team, as well as the name of someone on our team that we were in charge of praying for and blessing during the trip. I decided to make a picture with no one specific in mind, because I was sure someone would show up that we hadn't made a picture for. I figured I could ask God who it was for when they arrived. I saw a picture of a fist punching through the darkness with a war horse going before it like a patronus. God gave me a long interpretation about spiritual warfare and obedience, but the phrase that kept running through my head was "son of my right hand". I wrote that phrase across the top of the picture with a verse from Psalms about the Lord's right hand. I know that "son of my right hand" is the meaning of the Benjamin, and so I added that Benjamin is the 12th son of Jacob, and the number 12 is the number for government. I felt that to mean that he had extraordinary favor in government.
When the team of 7 people arrived there was one man named Pastor Benji, who we hadn't met until that night. Needless to say, I knew it was for him. We prophesied over each person for about 20 minutes each. When Benji was up I sat in front of him and explained my picture and prophecy. It was hard to tell if it affected him, but later Anthea and Ann-lis (two Sierra Leonian sisters that arranged our trip...more on them later) told us that on the ride home he was like a little kid. He was so excited about what God was doing and opened up to them in a way they'd never seen before. Oh, and it turns out that Benji means "Son of my right hand" as well. Also, Pastor Benji is one of the government-appointed intercessors for Sierra Leone, and interacts with the first lady and President. Is God amazing or what?

                                            Ann-lis receiving a prophetic picture

                                         Anthea and Ann-lis being prayed and prophesied over.

                                                            Pastor Andrew and his family

We were up really late because dinner went long and we had to wait up for Ryan to tell us which churches we'd be going the following morning. Ryan came by our room and informed Caroline and I that we'd be going to Pastor Andrew's church and asked me if I'd be ready to preach. I woke up that night at 3am and couldn't go back to sleep because I was planning out my sermon.

Sierra Leone Day 1

Thanks to the inspiration of my sister-in law's Kaysie's blog ( http://light2lionmountain.blogspot.com/ ), I've decided to post a day-by-day of my trip to Sierra Leone. Pray for me and have patience, because posting is an easy thing for me to neglect. However, recently God has shown me how important it is to write things down and share them with others, so here I go:

I left for Redding Airport and picked up Michael on the way at 11:45, even though we needed to be there at 12:15 and I live very close  (I was too excited to sit still!). However, our flight was delayed from 2:15 to about 4:30. We were worried we wouldn't make our connection in San Francisco, where the other half of our team was waiting. So we ate at the Chinese restaurant upstairs, relaxed and waited. When it came time to check in, the women were so amazing and gracious. They didn't even charge us for our extra bags! I know John and Kaysie appreciated that, as one of my bags was full of stuff just for them.
The plane we rode in looked like the double propeller plane from an Indiana Jones movie and my chair vibrated and I wore earplugs the whole time to salvage my hearing. We arrived to find that our other flight was delayed 20 minutes, leaving us just enough time to make the flight. The leg from San Francisco to London was long (10 hours) and I didn't get much sleep. I've never been one to sleep well on planes, especially when I don't have a window seat. During the flight, Ryan, the team leader gave us all prophetic words on little note cards, and I felt like the word he gave me was right on. The feeling I'd been getting prior to leaving is that God was going speak through me on this trip. I really felt like my words were going to be important, which is exactly what he prophesied.
The next leg from London to Sierra Leone was better. I slept for about 2 hours (it was about 7 I think) and was awoken to boisterous Scottish conversation and laughter. Ordinarily, I'd be annoyed, but with their jaunty accents and hilarious animation, I couldn't be angry. They were definitely the in-flight entertainment, with their stories, jokes and singing. One of the Scottish men went back while Aaron (one of our team members) was sleeping and he shook him awake, grabbed his face and said "Have courage and follow your heart!" Needless to say, Aaron looked confused and panicked as the rest of us laughed hysterically.
We finally landed at about 9pm and as we walked down the steps of the plane, we were met with a wall of hot moisture. We boarded a shuttle bus at the bottom that literally took us all of 100 feet to the airport door, where we encountered the chaotic, shouting frenzy that is an African airport. With so many people crowded around the baggage claim, it's a wonder that we managed to get our luggage. 2 of our bags, however, did not make it through. They were the bags that had some gifts, team supplies and a keyboard. Luckily though, everyone's clothes made it through.
It was so much fun to see John, Kaysie and Aden at the airport, although I didn't get much chance to talk to them, as we were herded out the door and onto an American-made school bus that waited to take us to the ferry. We drove for about 20 minutes and then drove the bus onto the ferry. Pastor Andrew (our in-country contact) filled us in on some of the happenings in his ministry, and we layed hands on him and prayed and prophesied over him. I was itching to get off the bus to talk with John and Kaysie, and as soon as they gave us the ok, I got off and found them by the railing. Aden was asleep by then, but I introduced them to a few team members and we talked for awhile. We got quite a surprise as the ferry blew its whistle and turned sharply. I watched as we narrowly missed a small local fishing boat with a man frantically waving a single flashlight inside. It was a miracle we didn't hit them...we missed them by only a foot or so. After that, they made everyone go down below where the vehicles were. After an hour ride, we drove to our hotel, which was very nice. We finally collapsed into bed at about 12:30pm

Do You Love Testimonies Or Do You Love People?

I have been attending Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry now for a month and in just a short amount of time, God has rocked my world, changed my thinking and pruned so many things that needed to be gone. Last week I listened to Chris Overstreet (if you don't know who he is you need to look him up, he releases God's tangible love everytime I listen to him). God loves me so much that I actually found myself in his class, Supernatural Evangelism.
Last week was the first class, and it was phenomenal. He shared about doing ministry in Africa and how he heard God ask him, "Chris, are you going out tonight to get another testimony, or because you love these people?" God, of course, went straight to the matter of his heart. Likewise, this question hit me in the heart. I knew that I had been so desperate to see miracles that I had forgotten that miracles are about love encounters, not power encounters. Many times when I stopped to pray for in an effort to see a miracle, I never even asked the person their name! That week Gabriel, an intern in my group shared a similar testimony about performing to feel loved by God.
On Wednesday, I drove to the airport to pick up my mom and sister who were coming to visit me. I was listening to worship music and like Mary, pondering these things in my heart. I confessed to God that I was guilty of the same attitude but I felt unsure of how to change it. I asked Him to show me what it looked like to see a miracle happen out of loving someone instead of trying to feel loved by seeking a miracle. I worshiped the rest of the way, and when I arrived I thought, "I'm going to carry this worship with me into the airport. I am going to keep my heart in a position of worship, and ask that God would let His presence impact the atmosphere around me.
So I parked the car and walked toward the terminal. I found myself in the crosswalk with a woman whose walk was kind of labored, and I thought, "that woman has a hip problem." I think it's important to note that at this point my bladder was about to quite literally explode since I had been holding it for an hour after guzzling a large soda. I told Jesus that if the word was right and he wanted to love on this woman He'd let me run into her again as I shuffled quickly to the bathroom.
I came out walking a little lighter but with the woman no where in sight. I thought, "well, it's not the first time I was wrong about a word." I found the board with the flights so I could figure out where to meet them and began to head toward the escalator when I see the woman heading my direction. Before I have the chance to talk myself out of it, I made a beeline towards her and said, "this is going to sound really weird, but do you have a hip problem by chance?" She said, "actually, I do. But my knees actually bother me more than my hips." Then I heard myself asking, "Is one of your legs shorter than the other?" Her eyes widened and she said, "yes, how did you know?" I asked her if I could pray for her and she wrapped me in a big hug. "Oh honey, of course you can!" I got the impression that she thought I meant on my own time, so I asked her if we could pray right then and there.
I led her over to a seat thinking, I just called out that one of her legs is shorter than the other. That means I'm going to have to ask it to grow. What was I thinking? The only person I'd ever seen do that was Todd White. If you don't know who that is, look him up on youtube and you'll understand why I felt a little intimidated. So I look at her and tell her with confidence that I am simply going to command her leg to grow in Jesus' name. The look on the woman's face sitting next to her was priceless. I held her ankles and pushed on her heels to see the difference. Sure enough, the left leg was about an inch shorter than the right. "Left leg," I said, "I command you to grow in Jesus' name." I don't see anything happen, but I look up at her and say, "this is gonna' be good." I look back at her feet and it seems like the gap is a little smaller. I stare at it for awhile and sure enough the gap totally closes and her legs are the same length without either of us moving!
I am totally shocked and I think, "My God that actually worked!" I look up at her and ask, "Is anything happening to you right now?" Her eyes are brimming with tears and she nods, "Oh honey, something happened." I tell her to stand up and check it out. She stands up and bends over, moving her back and legs and tells me that all the pain is gone! We both cry and hug each other. We get each other's names (her name is Debbie) and she began to tell me that she was scheduled to get knee surgery the next week. I said, "Wait. Did your knee get healed?" She replied, "Well, the pain is gone, but both knees still feel swollen."
So I told her to sit down and we'd get it all taken care of, because of course now my faith is a lot bigger. I began to pray over her knees commanding metal to dissolve in one, the swelling to leave in both, and ligaments and tendons to right themselves. As I'm praying, I find myself thinking about Debbie's car. Although I just witnessed her leg grow, I don't want to spoil such a great healing with a word that is wrong. I stop myself there and think I am already in this thing. Why back off now? So I asked her if she was having car problems. "Listen to this girl!" She shouted. "How did you know about my car problems?" She began to explain that her husband had left her and emptied her bank accounts and that her car was having problems but they didn't know what was wrong with it and she didn't know if she'd be able to afford it. I told her that God was taking care of it and she did not need to worry. I then began to speak love and encouragement to her. God told me to tell her that she is a good mother, and she began to cry again.
A guy sitting two seats down from us who had been on the phone leaned over and smiled. "I just want you to know that I was prayin' with you ladies the whole time. I've got my pastor on the phone and I have been telling him the whole story." At that point we realize that she hadn't tested out her knees so I asked her to stand up and she said she could feel a real difference. I asked her to do something she couldn't do before. She raised up her leg and shouted, "That! I CAN'T DO THAT!!" As she was doing that very thing.
For the next hour she began to tell me her story and all about her family. I got to pray with her and release blessing into her family. After my family showed up and I introduced them, we hugged and she said that she would never forget that experience. That night I marveled at a God who answers  prayers, and who showed me just what it looks like to love a person and not an experience.

God brings it in Brazil

This video is from last summer, but it goes with the theme of the blog, so I'll post it now.

Grace and Tires

This story happened awhile ago, maybe back in August. I felt and I've been feeling for awhile now that it's a story I should share. Let me begin by saying that as much as we'd all like to stay on top of the mountain, God allows us to be brought down to be tested. Sometimes we pass the test and in turn become stronger in our walks and closer to God. Sometimes, however, we fail. This is a story of failure.

Do you know the long-term sin that you struggle with? The one that has caused you to find yourself asking for forgiveness over and over and over again until you are sickened by your own struggle? Well, I had a sin like this. It had a control over me for most of my life. However, God did not abandon me in this sin. He constantly called me to repentence and confession. The repentence part was easy. The confession part was not. And so, it took years before I stopped allowing fear to keep me from freedom. But I did. I confessed my secret sin. And not just to God. I confessed in front of a group of 20 people in my Bible study. Talk about all-in. Then the most amazing thing happened. The control and the desire left. Oh, it reared it's ugly head a few times after, but each time it was longer and longer stretches in between until it was no longer a part of my life.

And so began this hill-like climb towards Christ. You know how every now and then you find yourself between hills? Not necessarily in a valley (I find that I am closest to God at the extremes), but at a neutral midpoint. A place of no great challenges and likewise no great epiphanies. This is where I find the enemy lurking...when my defenses are down because I'm either tired from struggling through a valley or else underwhelmed after descending from a peak.

I found myself last August or so in such a place. And, to my great horror I fell back into the sin I'd long since left behind. This is a bitter moment...when you find you are not as strong as you thought you were. Immediately, two old friends I hadn't seen in quite awhile came rushing into my life: guilt and shame. And they were holding nothing back this time. I found myself in a pit of depression and self-loathing. A prayer in my journal during that time reads, "God, how can I get up and worship in front of others? I don't want to be sorry, I want to be repentent. Don't let me be excluded from You because of my sin. Forgive me. Have mercy on me."

I knew in my mind that God would forgive me. I wrestled with trying to receive His forgiveness and grace. But all the while I lived under the impression that I would have to start over again at the bottom. I'd have to work for years before I would ever be as close to God again, I thought. Maybe this would be the straw that broke the camel's back. Maybe I'd be excluded from my destiny for failing so miserably.

Everytime I went to God in prayer I could hear nothing from Him except confess. I reasoned with Him that I couldn't confess because other people would no longer trust me or listen to me. I weakly offered to confess to Him. For about 3 weeks I lived in this hell. Serving in church and pretending that I was doing just fine. Finally, I decided it would be too hard to confess. Besides, I'd had a couple of repentent cry-fests. I thought that I had better get a start on working to get back into God's good graces. The day that I made this decision, I got a text from my good friend Justine. Is everything ok? I can't get you off of my heart. I looked at the phone and felt like I was going to throw up. God told on me! He sold me out! I knew that I would have to tell her. The pretense was too hard. I knew it couldn't last long enough...she knew me too well.

I finished teaching, and the minute school got out I got in my car to drive to Havasu. I had some things to buy, and some confessing and soul searching to do, and I didn't want to be around my family. As soon as I got on the road, Justine called. I pulled the car over, and between sobs I confessed everything. I wish I could say I felt better, but in truth it felt awful to reveal my sinfulness. I waited for Godly words of wisdom from her. She confessed that she had been there before with her own sin struggle (though I knew it had been a long time) and she admitted that she didn't really know what to say.

I got back on the road as we hemmed and hawed and tried to talk through it. The signal cut out, and secretly I was thankful for the reprieve. I bawled all the way up to Havasu feeling about as low as a person can. Wasn't I supposed to feel better? Wasn't confessin what God had asked me to do? I waited for the refief from my guilt and shame, but it didn't come.

I made it through the city and was almost to the mall when I heard and felt my front tire blow. You must be joking, I thought. My car limped into the driveway of a car dealership. I got out and assessed the damage. I knew I had a spare tire, but I had no idea how to get it out from under my car. I knew how to change a tire...in theory. I hoped that if I only got it started, some man would see my plight and come to the rescue.

I had a phone held to my face by my shoulder with my sister on the line (tire-changing expert), the instruction manual out, and some tool that was supposed to help me get the tire out. Only,  couldn't seem to locate the dang hole to put the tool in. Seriously God? As if I wasn't suffering enough? I managed to find the hole under the floor mat beneathe a rubber stopper. Clearly engineering genius at work. I cranked the tire out only to find that I couldn't seem to detach it from the cable. I wrestled with this heavy tire (in my dress clothes, I might add). It was over 100 degrees in Lake Havasu in the summer. My hair was becoming matted to my face from the sweat. The more I wrestled, the dirtier I got. The dirtier I got, the angrier I got. Meanwhile, cars are zipping past me, not a single good samaritan among them.

Somehow, I finally figured out that you have to turn the cable sideways to slip it through the hole. Now I had the work of trying to put the jack in to lift up the car. More wrestling. More dirt and grime. Angrier still. I was still determined to beat that stupid flat tire. I got the jack in place and pumped the jack until the car was up. Now came the hard part (as if everything up to that point was simple). I had to figure out a way to lift this 80 pound tire up onto the axel. (Note: I have no idea how much tires actually weight. It definitely felt like 80 lbs of dead weight). I can't tell you how long I struggled and how dirty I got, with no success. Finally with angry tears, I cried out, "God, I need You help!"

Not a minute later a man who was leaving the dealership pulled up alongside me. He smiled knowingly. "Need some help?" he asked me. "Yes, please!" came my desperate reply. The gentleman was about 40 years old. He climbed out of his car and took the tire from me. "Let me take this," he said. "I'll handle all of this. Get up and go inside and wash yourself off." Grateful, I walked inside the dealership looking very disheveled. I came back out after cleaning up. "Is there some way I can help?" I asked. He smiled and said, "Just talk with me while I work."

This man then proceeded to tell me his testimony. He began to tell me about how his marriage was on the rocks and his relationship with his kids was bad, when a friend of his told him about Christ. He began to go to church, and eventually saw God redeem the broken pieces of his life. "I am a better father than I ever was, and now my wife and I are more in love than ever," he beamed.

He then began to share the Gospel with me, and I waited patiently, smiling to myself. In the end, I told him that I was a Christian. This did not convince or deter him. Then he began to talk to me about holy living and a life of total abandonment to Christ. I thanked him profusely for everything and he was on his way. Thankfully, so was I.

I called Justine back and told her the whole story. "Isn't that funny?" I marveled. "Amy," she said knowingly, "Don't you see what God is trying to tell you?" I paused, baffled. "What?" I asked incredulously. "Amy, you had a blowout. And you tried to fix it by yourself, but the more you tried, the dirtier you got, and the angrier you got. But when you finally gave up and asked for God's help, He immediately came to your rescue. And the first thing that He said to you was, 'Let me take this. I'll handle all of this. Get up and wash yourself off.' Then, when you asked him what you could do to help, he said, 'just talk with me while I work.'"

I couldn't even reply because I was overcome with the feeling of God's grace. All my guilt and shame melted away and I just felt loved. Not because of my efforts. Just because of who He is, and who He says I am. I understand what God's grace looks like. It looks like giving up and letting yourself be rescued.

God is the author of the coolest stories

It's been awhile since my last update, but I just had to share this story. Last time we went to the jail we asked for the women first as always. We knew God was up to something when we got the men first, as that has never happened. Rick and a former inmate Victor witnessed to the Spanish inmates, and my mom and I took the remaning 6. Fran had been the week prior and asked me to share a Bible verse from Galatians with this guy named Byron. She was worried about him. 2 minutes in, and this guy piped up and said, "I was talking last week to this lady named Fran. She asked me if I wanted to accept Jesus and I told her I wasn't ready. Well, I've been reading the Bible and praying, and I'm ready now." Already off to a great start. You know it's gonna' be a good day when someone opens with that. So I asked him a bunch of questions and explained the gospel to make sure that he undrstood the decision he was making. He didn't want to be baptized in the jail at first because he was holding out for the river. But as soon as I told him that he could be baptized twice he was on board.
After the men left, we had the women. My mom and I had 3 women: 2 who come all the time and know Jesus already, and one who they dragged there named Michel (pronounced Mi-kel) who didn't know where she stood with God. She is a PK so she knows the basics, but didn't feel she "qualified" for heaven. I decided to share my testimony, which I haven't done in awhile. The Holy Spirit hit them all at the same time, and at a point in my story where I wasn't expectng tears. It was at a point that was hopeful. It seemed the idea of hoping was what rally stirred them. All at once all three of them were crying. The PK began to get really emotional as she began to explain that she felt she wanted to accept Christ and that she was ready, but was afraid. She explained that her husband was not a Christian and he was addicted to drugs. "I'm so afraid that if I become a Christian, he won't. I just know that he'll leave me," she explained. It was heart-wrenching. I could literally feel this woman's agony. She admitted that it was a lousy excuse, but that the fear was too great. I could tell by the way the other women reacted that this was a deep-rooted and long discussed topic. "He's even in jail right now. We got arrested together," she sobbed. I reached over and took her hand. I asked her what her husband's name was, thinking that I should begin to pray for him. "Byron," she replied. Instantly, my eyes filled with tears. I reached out and touched her hand and said, "Your husband just accepted Christ 30 minutes ago." This woman began to wail so loudly that Pastor Rick turned around and said, "Look, we're having trouble hearing each other talk over here." All of us were crying at this point. I asked her if there was anything that would keep her from accepting Christ, and she laughed through her tears and said, "I guess not!" I led her through the sinner's prayer as she echoed in barely a whisper, her emotions choking out her voice.

A few minutes later it was time to leave. Before we left, she asked us if we knew where in the Bible she could find that verse about enlarging your territory. None of us could locate it, though we searched through our extensive concordances. Her brand new Bible in hand, she opened her Bible at random, and landed on the exact page with the verse she was looking for. I looked at her and smiled. "Do you think God is trying to get your attention?"
It was such a fun Holy Spirit appointment, that obviously wouldn't have been possible had we not seen the men first. Michel was transferred less than a week later, before we had a chance to see her again.

Byron on the other hand, is still there every week, with Bible in hand, thirsty for more.