Reverend

Reverend--that's what they called him.  When he preached.  In the Congo.  To 2,321 people--Africans.  From all over, they came.  It was a quarterly church meeting, where 4 times per year they gather to worship together.  20 local congregations, 3 hours long.  Singing, praising, worshiping.

But that's not the real story.  The real story happened at the same time, on the same day, here and abroad.  A miracle.  I call it that because that is what it was.  It was something that only God could do.  When I wrote my last blog, the one about my husband and his "come to Jesus" meeting, well, little did I know that God was also speaking to my husband about sharing that same exact story to the congregations in the Congo.  When he was able to make contact with me later that same day, he told me how God had been dealing with him about sharing his "testimony".  He had been unsure, and when I asked him if he had read my blog from that morning, he said no.  I was stunned.  He hadn't yet read it.  That meant, in my mind anyway, that he should read it right away, and then pray about just what it was that God wanted him the talk about that following Sunday.

He told me later that as he read my blog, he cried.  He knew then that he needed to try to somehow share "his story" with the African people.  I told him I'd be praying, and pray I did.  For hours and hours, I prayed.  For God to give him boldness and strength, and for him to have wisdom and discernment.

I really do not think he was prepared for the turnout.  Over 2,000 people showed up.  His was to be the only sermon, he was the only speaker, the only reverend, for that is how they introduced him.  Reverend.  It embarrassed him, but he'll get over it.

He spoke for 40 minutes, thankfully there was a translator.  He said he could feel our prayers.  Those of his friends and family.  The local pastors later told him that he had spoken on key subjects that they needed to hear.  He was told that over 20 pastors were there and they will now go home and retell his story and preach on the subjects for weeks to come.  His story.  The one I thought he had forgotten about.  Until God reminded us--him and me at the same exact time--of that night so long ago.

Isn't God amazing?  If anyone had told us that night, sitting in that little church in California that one day my husband would be speaking to over 2, 000 people in Africa--well, I'm sure we would have thought they were nuts.  But, God had a plan.  He always has a plan.  It's just up to us to obey, to walk in His ways, to listen, to do and to go.  Go where He tells us to go.

My husband will have so many stories to share when he gets home.  One more week.  I miss him terribly, but you know what?  I would not change one bit of what God is doing in his life (or mine) for anything.  No, I would not change one thing.

The team left for Karawa today.  In fact, he just called from there.  He was so happy to find that they had installed a 1st generation cell tower.  No email available, but he could call me.  I was so happy just to hear his voice.  The team toured a hospital this morning, and when he tried to tell me about their visit, his voice broke.  He just said, please pray, pray for these people, this breaks my heart.  So, I will pray--for the people of Africa, for the team, and mostly I will pray for my husband, for he will never be the same.

I can't wait for him to share all that God is doing, he has so many things to say, so much has happened, good things.   God things.   Things that only God can do.