My Life as an International Drug Runner – Part FOUR

Girl's handFollowing one of the crusade services, a young pastor-in-training asked me to walk with him to our next stop. I walked with him, even though I had no idea whatsoever where we were headed, or how long it would take us to get there. By this time it was dark, except for the full moon, which cast eerie and intriguing shadows on the path ahead of us. Of course, my active imagination pictured jungle animals about to pounce on us.

As we walked along the path, chatting about the goodness of God, and how he was blessing the crusade, the young man took my hand and held it as we walked. He shared with me how pleased he was that I had come all the way from The United States of America to be here. At first I was a little distracted from what he was saying by the thought he was holding my hand. But then it occurred to me how rare this opportunity was to be walking with a brother in Christ through the bush of Africa holding hands and by the light of the moon.

After we had walked several minutes, I could hear the chatter of people who had gathered at the home of one of the brothers. Some of the ladies were cooking in open pots that were situated over fires just outside the home, and other women were preparing food on makeshift tables. When it was time to eat, I was told that since I was the honored guest, I would go first. It was then I also learned that the head of the chicken that had been cooking in the pot would also be a gift to the honored guest. Another surprise.

Even with so many extraordinary experiences, there’s one thing about my adventure that comes to mind that warms my heart the most. It was just a couple more days until I would leave Africa, and I was sitting under a beautiful tree where we had set up for a Sunday morning service. The music was playing, and the people were singing and dancing. I noticed one little girl—maybe two or three years old—standing nearby. She had been looking at me rather intently for several minutes.

Lots of little kids had been looking curiously at me, simply because many of them had never before seen a white guy. Some kids actually cried when they saw me, thinking I was a ghost. But this little girl seemed different. She was curious. In stealth mode, I held my hand palm up on my lap. I continued to sing, pretending not to notice as she crept ever-so-slowly in my direction. My heart was warmed when she cautiously reached out her little hand, and placed it on mine. We connected. I remember the deep feeling of gratitude for yet another precious and priceless moment in time.

There was one final experience which, without a doubt, revealed the hand of God at work in a way that surpassed anything I could have dreamed up. Toward the end of the crusade, I was asked to be the “Ambassador to Kobare.” I was told that if I accepted the invitation, it would be my task to tell others about the wonderful things God had been doing there. And it would be my task to tell others that God needed people who would “invest” in the ongoing mission of Kobare. I was told we did not want contributions, because a contribution did not require follow-up. An investment, on the other hand, is tracked by the investor who has a personal interest in what’s happening with his or her investment. (Part 4 0f 5; to be continued…)

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