“Send me, God,” my faint voice whispered last summer as I stood arms stretched out at the Hillsong Conference. “Here I am, send me.”
At the time I had no idea what ‘send me’ looked like: It could have been to a new job; a new house; a new country; a new church to serve; or (like it was) to the other side of the world. He was planning to send me to Mozambique – but first, I had to ask, trust, wait, rest in his embrace and believe.
The bible talks about asking and you shall receive, knocking and the door shall be opened, so I was certain that when I asked him to send me he would. Last July (after a little doubting, much prayer and intently listening out for His voice), I applied to serve at Heidi Baker’s Iris Pemba Mozambique base. I had no idea what I was doing. No real plan. But, He knew what He was doing and He had a real plan. So all I had to do was trust – and wait.
During my last year of university I had gotten such a hunger for God I didn’t quite know what to with myself. I couldn’t stop reading the bible. I spent everyday, every moment listening for His voice. I couldn’t stop writing about him. Learning more about him. And I knew, deep inside my soul, that I needed to serve God’s people in Africa. And all I needed was his go-ahead sign.
“Dear Lisa, we’d like to invite you to join us in Africa,” read an email addressed ‘WELCOME TO PEMBA’ late last year. I was standing on my usual overcrowded and delayed commuter train whilst my eyes glanced over the blue notification flashing on my phone. “YES GOD, YOU ARE GOOD,” I squealed inside. I may have cried a little, too. He did hear my cry. He heard that I wanted to be sent and used. God doesn’t call the qualified but he qualifies the called. And so I was off. To Africa. Alone.
The week before leaving was a real spiritual battle: I was feeling sick, doubting whether God really called me there, whether I was ready, whether I was strong enough in faith to go. In terms of how spiritual battles go, this one was one of the most intense. Despite my dubiousness, I knew that the Word of God is sharper than a two-double edged sword. “No weapon formed against me shall ever prosper,” I declared. The Word is a weapon, so I used it.
After 24-hours of flying, sitting in transit, searching for wifi, drinking coffee and speaking in tongues whenever we encountered turbulence, I had arrived in The Village of Joy, Pemba Mozambique. A little teary-eyed and highly exhausted I needed God’s strength just even to lift my suitcase up the flight of stairs. Like always, He was there. He showed up. He cared (so much so that he sent a stranger to give me milk for my tea once I arrived. He even cares about my milky tea habits).
I was homesick; I got ill; I felt overwhelmed. But – I saw blind eyes open. I saw the deaf hear. I listened to Heidi teach. I saw revival. I saw the Holy Spirit radically invade the town. I got wrecked (I actually got so wrecked with His love that I couldn’t sleep at night because His presence was burning like a fire). Day in, day out I was consumed in His presence. The Village of Joy is a village of His power. A village of His presence. A village of his uncontainable, radical Spirit. And I am forever changed.
I have tasted and I’ve seen. The glory cannot be unseen.
By Lisa Waldren