I took with me to Lodz the graphic of Bocianowska titled Returns, which I received from my friends. In the simple lines I saw a home to which I can return. It is the only one picture in my new apartment. The graphic depicts three storks over a vast field, with a forest in the background, and a hut. But for me there was always more. I saw the raspberry bushes near the house, and the trodden path leading to a stream. I saw an old fence and a cat lying in the sun. And I heard children’s laughter, sound of trees and sound of crickets at dusk. When I was leaving Gdansk, I took it to remember to return. Today, when I say goodbye to Lodz, I sometimes look at this picture and I really want to come back. But already elsewhere.
one year ago in Africa
At the end of last year I spent three weeks in Pemba, Mozambique. I went there because God has been clearly inviting me to this journey since the beginning of the last year. I made the decision to go without courage, without the support of the people, without money, only on the basis of His word. (See: When a thought become a conviction) But during preparations, looking only at Jesus I learned that because He died and resurrected, each my need will be met by Him. I experienced that His power manifests in lack and weakness. (See: God pays for His plans and Courage and people will be provided) Going to Mozambique, actually it wasn’t me who was going, but He was going in me, whom I gave control. Courageous, supported by others, provided financially completely undeserved, by grace.
It was at Village of Joy, the base of Iris Global, founded and conducted by Heidi and Rolland Baker. In my infirmity, I was searching for Him and found Him in unexpected circumstances. (See: Stay with me) God taught me how He manifests in the lack. (See: The potential in lack) He taught me what it means to give in an extravagantly way. (See: Extravagance of giving) It was a time when the Lord was building relationships at a heart level between me and other people in a few days, showing that the barrier of words and cultures is not to hard for Him.
It was a time when I was learning to love. I discovered that the glance in the eyes of child means for some of them everything. That the hugs say louder than the words I have not been able to say in fact. Sitting with children on the floor or smiling as I handed them a bowl of rice and beans – small things – made them feel important. Every day I learned the simplicity of the Word: “inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.” (Matthew 25:40)
I went to the hospital several times to preach the Gospel and pray for the sick, I spend time with the widows and prayed for them, I helped in the kitchen (I was carrying rice bags on my head!), I attended the open classes of Harvest School, I spent time with missionaries from all over the world. Two times I went to local villages for two-day evangelistic trips. There we talked about Jesus we know, prayed for people and just used to be with them.
During these three weeks I saw many who chose to give their lives to Jesus. I saw the mothers taking off the strings from the bellies of their children which they had received from a witch doctor, deciding to trust Jesus in spite of everything they knew and so far what gave them security. I heard a man in his early forties saying the first words in his life because Jesus healed him. During one of the prayers God allowed me to see how He sees. I had in front of me children in torn clothes from a village somewhere at the end of the world, which have no future according to the standards of this world. But God had a different opinion about that. I prayed for each of them, and He put in my mouth the blessings of the great callings, allowing me to see theirs strength, dignity and good future that He had planned for them. There are no words that can describe how these kids are special to Him. The same way He sees us.
Besides all of that something unexpected happened on that trip. God in a supernatural way made Mozambique my home.
I started to discover it slowly during my stay there. When others spoke what was going on in their homes, I recognised that I was not so much interested in what was going on in my home. Surprised I read in the materials available to us about a culture shock. I did not mind the lack of spacious and beautiful room only for myself. Nither my own bathroom. Neither hot water to wash. There were times when I was sleeping under the tent and I did not have a wash for a few days, and my toilet was a hole in the ground. All the time sweaty, swollen, I ate mostly rice and beans and rolls, sometimes with peanut butter and jam. But that did not seem to matter to me. I was fine where I was. My focus was on Jesus and what He wanted to do in that place and at that time. It is like that when you look at Him and you do what you see He does. Then it is clear that such things as place to stay or your comfort aren’t the most important things.
Before my trip to Mozambique, God began to change my heart. He revealed to me that my home is where He is, that the Most High is my home. I began to feel tangibly that my roots are plucked from Lodz, Gdansk, Warmia, Poland. He made me independent of everything that gives us security – from money, work, own flat, wise plans for the future, people. And He makes me depend on Him only. With this home, wherever I go, I went to Mozambique. While I was there, during one of my prayer times, I realized that I was rooted in that red Mozambican soil. And suddenly I discovered that in some strange way I was at home. And soon I will have to go back to Poland for a while.
When the plane took off from Pemba, I started to cry. I remembered the moment when I was leaving my parents house to go to the university. On the board I had the same emotions as then. The same feeling of attachment to the family house. How it’s possible? Only God knows.
Since I returned to Poland in November 2016, God was telling me about my return. He still reveals His plans for what He wants to do in Mozambique and what is my part in that. He prepares me to the road and we work together over my heart. Initially I thought it would take longer. But God has His own time. So I’m going back.
At the beginning of October 2017 I will be in Pemba, Mozambique, where I will spend over two months in Iris Harvest School of Missions led by Heidi and Rolland Baker. I go there to love and to learn how to love. And allow Him to work within me. Further plans will clear up as always, on the way.
The time I am in is the constant teaching of even deeper reliance on Him, learning to depend on Him on new levels that I have not even known about. The time to hide in Jesus. The time to walk on water.
God took me on a journey, but I know I will not get anywhere by myself. He still puts people on my way, without whom I could not go on. I thank Him for them all. About what’s going on on the road, more personally, I write in the Newsletter. If you would like to receive it, please email me at email@example.com.