Chronicle 5: Preaching to the Cows

Humba Humba Village, Malawi. November. 

Things I never thought I would do; eat a chicken lung, shower in a grass hut, hike a mountain to get Internet, meet a village chief, and preach to cows. God has a funny sense of humor, and lately he has been a stage of comedies lightening up the craziness of my life.

This weekend I felt like Indiana Jones as I rode in the back of a blue rickety Toyota with my bandana wrapped around my face to block the dust rising from the road. My team and I were traveling deep into the African bush, literally, to a tiny farming village to do a four-day crusade. Upon arrival, we pitched our tents, checked out the squatty potties and grass-hut showers, and strolled to the village's grassy soccer field for our first event.

The grass that covered the large field was brown and dry, bordered with pockets of tall, thin trees that let in small streams of the sunsets glow. A row of yellow plastic chairs awaited us along the forest, backs soaking in the sun. The American crew spread out among the chairs and the women and children sitting, waiting on the grass. The women's heads were adorned with colorful wraps, and their babies were tied to their backs with traditional "wrappas." The children looked at us curiously, some chewing on their fingers, while others awkwardly kicked up the dust with their bare feet. It was one of the most beautifully different crowds I have ever looked upon.

We spent the first thirty minutes dancing in a circle while chanting and singing to the African praise rhythm of the day. After our feet were dirty and backs sweaty, everyone sat down in the field and quietly awaited for me to grab my blue leather bible to preach the word for the day.

Now, before I go any further, there is something you must to know about me. Generally, I am a very calculated and organized person. Whenever I preach, talk, or give a presentation, I normally have an outline, or scads of notes prepared to reference. This time, I decided to take a different approach. I had planned to give a sermon on the body of Christ from Romans 12, until the Lord challenged me with a question: "Why don't you tell them you about what I am teaching you?" Hmm. That's brilliant. Why didn't I think about that? 

I had been reading through 2 Corinthians 4, and felt a little nudge to speak from this passage with no notes and no preparation; just the Holy Spirit speaking through me.

So there I was, standing in the middle of an African soccer field, best missionary skirt and bandana on (fun picture? J), the sun's rays streaming on my back, and our contact for this month, Zachariah, standing beside me ready to translate my sermon. Zachariah is a very tall, powerful Malawian man of God. His playful spirit, big brown eyes, and child-like heart may fool you, but he is a force of God's earthly army that the enemy has no business reckoning with.

With his encouraging nod and his bible in hand, I began to speak from 2 Corinthians 4:7-18. The more I spoke, the more I realized that the words coming out of my mouth were not my own. I didn't plan any of this; I didn't have any fancy stories or funny jokes, just the simplicity of the written word, taken at its true value. And that is powerful.

About half way through the sermon, I glanced up from my Bible, gazed over the crowd, and noticed a line of cows walking across the grass. The hefty ones were slowly clomping along up at the front, followed closely by the auburn-colored calves closing in the rear. They were mooing and enjoying the normalcy of the day. What isn't normal about preaching to cows? Seems pretty normal to me.

 Aside from learning how to preach to large mooing animals, Africa has taught me to take the bible for what it says; not to second-guess it, but to speak from it and live by it as if I actually believe it.  I know I have blogged about this before, but the simple power of God's word never gets old.

I can't take credit for anything I said that day, and I kind of love it that way. God, you get the glory. Nothing was planned or organized; just a white girl from Marietta, GA, standing in the middle of an African soccer field, proclaiming God's truth to a group hungering for it, and about fifteen cows. This is my life.