Place

I wrote about it in a letter at the end of 2023. Today I stand on the threshold of its door and understand more, though nothing yet.

A place. The kind we dreamed of. The kind He dreamed of in me. Unprepared by our standards. With uneven walls and numerous holes. With scratched, dirty walls. With a lightbulb hanging naked above the door.

Not because everything in Mozambique is like that. But because you can encounter Him anywhere, regardless of the conditions. From our Western church, it has lights hanging from remnants of mosquito netting and a few lonely, crooked nails. There are also four old chairs and a grass mat.

And I really like that it’s like that. That I didn’t have to save up money to prepare it. That I didn’t have to wait for Western perfection. It cleanses. From our thoughts about a minimum of decency in space. About the standard needed to call out to Him together.

And I really like that it is this way. Because nothing attracts our attention there except Him.

What is this Place? I wrote this then:

“I want a room to be created in the house next to ours, which we also rent. A room for encounters with Jesus. Solitary encounters, for us. Meetings together. Meetings with those who want to come, even though they don’t even know Jesus. A place where there will be space to share about Him and encounter Him without the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Also a place for teaching His Word when people are willing to follow Him. A place for praying for one another.

Place.

(Definitions from Oxford Languages: “a portion of space designated or available for or being used by someone”)

Place.

In us and in others. By decision. Chosen. Set apart. Let Him occupy it. Fill it.

Place.”

It was ready a long time ago, but unused. I was busy. With being a mother. With emergencies. With a tired body. With writing. With good things, but with other things. I didn’t make time for them during the day. I didn’t make room within myself for the Place.

And then they arrived. Someone from outside, someone who has space for Him. Someone who has it as a habit. In habit. Someone who also has more of it physically. And who mobilized us to find this space in our family life. Not with words. Not with a plan. By example.

And although the vision and His word had been growing in me for so long, the very ignition for the beginning came with the help of another person. People whom God sent from a distant continent to Mozambique, for a different purpose, after all. Or perhaps for this purpose as well.

When I think about the Place, I see that God began it in me much earlier. Before He even named it that way. Before I even found the words within myself for it. That was when He showed me the port and the container in a vision. Into which women were being thrown like sacks. I knew human trafficking was taking place. I wanted to run there, do something. Use my hands. Although how, I had no idea. But God showed me something else – the spiritual authority nearby, the one who was controlling the entire event. And then I saw myself fighting with the sword of the Word against the authority. And the women were being freed, one by one, by someone else.

Thus, God, who had been revealing the spiritual side of human trafficking to me for some time, showed me my further role – intercession.

Sometimes the word spoken to us by Him, before it becomes flesh, must grow for a long time, within us. Take shape. Grow. Become more specific. Sometimes, through our own fault, it’s ready, waiting. Sometimes God has to intervene through another person or in some other way. Sometimes we carry the word for years. And then, just as if nothing had happened (and yet after years of invisible work within us), it becomes. And it’s happening..

Today, every morning, I stand on the threshold of the door to the Place and understand more. More broadly, though nothing yet. And I can’t wait to see everything that will grow from this Place—from Spirit to reality.

/ Thank you for reading what I write. If this touches you in any way and you would like to enable me to continue sharing my words, you can buy me a virtual coffee on the Buy Me A Coffee portal. This allows me to continue writing and grow in what God has intended me to be. /