Tomorrow Today: oh how He makes me laugh.

Last Tuesday I was…

Having a funny stomach day.

Sick with a head cold.

Exhausted.

Voiceless.

And yet that was the day, completely unplanned from my end, that God chose for me to share the gospel.

Oh how He makes me laugh!

Just when I think I have it all figured out. I got this storying thing down. I am checking off stories and approaching the end. That’s when God takes my voice away. And I was so frustrated and tired and just plain not feeling well all over. But I had to go. Next story. Off to share about the Samaritan who loved his hurting enemy on the side of the road by bandaging his wounds, carrying him to a safe place, and providing for his needs. Off to tell those gathered by the borehole in Nataragat about Jesus who loved an outcast among his own people—the unclean, dirty, and untouchable leper—by touching him and healing him completely.

I got there and quickly realized as the school kids starting singing some praise songs that it would strain what little voice I did have to even whisper songs. And I came to tell two stories from God’s Word! Lucy came a little after that; she was sorry about my voice. I told her, it doesn’t really matter, seeing as how the people won’t really be listening to me but to her and her Toposa. She laughed.

So I told the stories and asked the questions. Silly me for trying to stick to my routine. (Haven’t I learned yet that letting go is the best and only way!! God keeps teaching me this. And I will probably keep learning it for the rest of my life!) It was going good. I drew pictures of the road where the Israelite man was robbed, and I explained in detail about the view of lepers in that culture. They understood!

And that’s when Lucy’s father began to talk. He is a Catholic, as many of those listening are, but only one on the surface. Beneath his rosary and recited prayers, his heart belongs to his witchcraft and ancestor worship and life of fear from evil spirits.

First, he talked about the crossing himself in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I asked him what that meant to him. He explained, I think, that it is a greeting for God (and he does it often because he believes it must be done this way). I told him that’s a good way to greet God but that it is not required to greet God. There are other ways to come before the Father. In fact, there are many ways! God wants us to come as we are. Period.

What caught my attention was when he called himself a bad sinner. He said that he prays and then he sins and then he prays and then he sins. And the Holy Spirit spoke for me.

That led into a gospel presentation. I explained how, when Jesus, the Son of God, came to die, it was to die once for all sins of all people past, present, future. I recounted four of my specific sins to him and drew tick marks on the ground. Then, I said that Jesus took each of those upon Himself, took the punishment I deserve for each of those sins, and died for them, for me! And for him and for Lucy and for every school kid and man and woman that was sitting around us. I talked about how God turned his back on Jesus because of all the sins that were laid upon Him.

And then I talked about the resurrection. That the reason I don’t wear crosses with Jesus on them, is because Jesus is alive! He is no longer on the cross, but He reigns on high in heaven!!!

I explained the choice that God sets before each of us. The choice to remain in our bondage to fear, remain in our sin, and remain in our disobedience and opposition to God or to turn from all of that by believing in Jesus’ sacrifice for our sin, live in freedom as a servant and child of the King, and follow Him in wholehearted obedience.

I asked if anyone wanted to make that choice. No one responded. There were no loud cries or tears or people saying, “I need Jesus.” Lucy’s father was grateful to me for sharing this from God’s Word. He said he’d think about it. I reminded him that Jesus Himself said that He is coming soon. This choice is not one to wait on.

On the way home, I smiled. God made me laugh. He so clearly reminded me that He is the One at work here, not me. He is the One who draws people to Himself, not me. He is the One who speaks, not me.

And I laughed. Because I was hurting, and sick, and tired, and…voiceless.

But God spoke.

And they heard.

Pictures from two days ago in Lucy's garden: