Cheap Rocks

For the first time in her life the old woman heard the story of how God created the world and how much He loves her.  Overwhelmed with God’s love, tears filled her eyes.   She asked,  “Am I too old to know God?”  Tony reassured her that there was no way she was too old.

I drove out one day with Tony to pick up some rocks for my new carport posts.  About 15 km north of Lichinga there are some folk who sell different sized rocks for construction.  I was looking for smaller rocks to mix in the cement.  Their piles are about 18 inches tall and vary in length, but they are all broken up by hand and hammer.  The going price for my small truck filled is about $400 mtz, which is about $5.70 USD.  I know, it’s incredibly cheap but the food here is not!  It all balances out.

As we waited for the local guys to shovel the rocks into the pickup bed, Tony began to relate to them, telling them who we are and what we do – mainly Discovery Bible Study.  They welcomed us to come so Tony made arrangements for Sunday.  That Sunday I dropped Tony off on the way to pray for Musa.  On the way back we stopped for Tony and prayed for a woman there who had her hand amputated by the hospital because of a severe burn (I know what you’re thinking – cut off because of a burn?)  This is the way it is.

Somehow that prayer touched their lives and they opened up all the more.  The chief of the village encouraged Tony to come on Friday so he could invite the whole village as most are working in their gardens on Sunday.  They say they want God, that they don’t want to be Muslims any longer, and they don’t want to go to the witchdoctor anymore!  This is huge.  This is God.  It remains to be seen what happens there, but I’m telling you the harvest is ripe and plentiful.

That day I picked up a truckload of cheap rocks.  The cost of getting there was relatively cheap for me, but not for The One who gave His life for those precious souls.  In the song by Michael W. Smith ‘Here I am to Worship’, part of the chorus reads: “I’ll never know how much it cost, to see my sin upon that cross…”.   It cost me a little to go to that obscure little village, the name of which I can’t even pronounce, in a land far, far away from everyone I love and what I am comfortable with as an American.  I had to leave my family behind.  Jesus left the glory of heaven, the presence of His Father, and who knows what else to take the form of a humble servant only to die the death of a criminal. He paid the ultimate price for me, why shouldn’t I sacrifice for Him?  In the words of a great missionary who gave his life attempting to reach the ones who eventually killed him: “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.”  Jim Elliott.   What are you keeping?

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