The Hungry & Thirsty

After we turned off the main stretch of paved road, we bumped down to third gear and began the bumpy ride down the long stretch of Africa-red dirt roads. I watched out my window, noticing the large fields of barely crooked rows, tiny green plants popping up and promising hope of a harvest, and an occasional woman bent over her work with determination.

Up ahead were a few small huts, just like you would imagine from seeing pictures in National Geographic. As we got closer, we could see that the village was grouped into courtyards. Each courtyard floor was so hard-packed that you might think it was concrete at first. Surrounding each courtyard were several mud-brick houses with thatched roofs, usually one for each wife of the husband. Several miniature circular huts served as storage units for grain or other products. In the courtyard, I saw a woman throwing a large wooden club into her press again and again, crushing and grinding her millet or corn. She had a baby tied to her back and three or four other young children sitting near her in the shade of a huge mango tree, heavy with almost-but-not-yet-ripe mangos.

“Welcome to Kimini,” Ruth said.

We traveled just about eight hours to get to this remote village in southwestern Burkina Faso, only fifteen kilometers from the border of Ivory Coast. The people that live here are known as the Jula people, and this village is entirely unreached with only one or two secret Christians that we know of. The mosque in the village as well as the call to prayer five times a day reminded us daily of the spiritual battle taking place on the ground in which we stood. In a place of majestic beauty and captivating African culture, there was also a hovering of darkness and a great spiritual need for freedom from it.

We lived among the Jula people for six days. We slept on cots in a room of the school house. The mice, bats, lizards, and spiders kept us constant company as we slept. A Jula woman cooked for us, making African meals of rice and pasta that usually came with some kind of tomato or peanut sauce. We collected water from the well along with all the other village women, and we used the latrine and took bucket baths just like them as well. Just think intense wilderness camping trip. African-style. We spent most of our days without a plan in particular. We just woke up, made a cup of coffee with the stove we brought, and sat outside the schoolhouse, waiting for something to do or someone to come along.

“Lord, you know who among these people you have called to bring forth your kingdom. Please bring us the people who are hungry and thirsty for you.” This was my prayer morning after morning.

God didn’t answer my prayer like I thought He would. In reality, He hardly ever does. But I am learning that I like it that way. I expected to come to Kimini with an agenda of things to do and accomplish. I wanted to learn some of the language and get to know all the people. I kind of even wanted to find a person sick with malaria so that we could pray over them in the name of Jesus, treat them with the medicine we brought, and witness a miracle for the glory of God. I wanted someone to come to us in the middle of the night like Nicodemus and ask us to tell them more about this Jesus that we spoke of. Here we were, six days in the African bush among an unreached people group. This could be the coolest thing I have ever done in my life, and I have only six days to make an impact for the kingdom of God in a place where He is hardly known. I was ready to go, go, go, and make the most of every opportunity.

But village life is slow. God quickly showed me that my agenda was just that – mine. The kingdom is His work in His hands. There I was trying to be the master when God is the Master, and I am the follower. It was like He was whispering to me, “This trip is less about you doing and more about you seeing. Look at these people…” and I did. I began to see a life that could only be sustained by God in a place so desperate for simple things like food, water, and health care. I began to see a beautiful people with a heart that reflects God Himself.

“Look at these people,” He said as if He was showing off His handiwork and creation. “And love them.”

So I didn’t learn much Jula language at all. I hardly got to know anyone on a personal level because I could not speak the language. I didn’t witness a miraculous healing or the quick salvation of anyone. But I did see a people that God knows, loves, and sustains. And I got to love them.

I still prayed every morning, “Lord, bring us the people who are hungry and thirsty for you.” And although it was not as I expected, God did answer.

He brought us Awa, one of the only Christians in the village. She must remain quiet about her faith because of the risk of being thrown out by her husband, family, and village. She came to our house one morning as we were worshipping, and we encouraged her with Scripture and prayed over her.

He brought us children. First thing in the morning as soon as we were awake and moving about, somehow the children knew. They would gather outside the door – sometimes as many as twenty or thirty of them – and just stare in the door and windows, watching our every move with wide eyes and silence. Honestly, it was kind of strange…until we began to play. All it took was a green, cheap, plastic Frisbee and a big cow field. God brought the children to our door two to three times every day, and we would play our little hearts out. In the afternoons, we would sit down under a big tree and tell Bible stories through a translator. And maybe they heard the story of Jesus for the very first time.

God brought the village chief to our house, and we sat outside with Him for an hour or so. With his permission, I was able to conduct a village health class with the women of Kimini. God brought twenty women to the class, and I taught them about Oral Rehydration Solution (ORS) in treating dehydration and also some basic nutrition. In the end, I told them the story of the woman at the well. “I cannot leave this place without telling you about this man that has changed my life,” I told them. And maybe they heard about Jesus Christ as the Living Water for the very first time.

Although we brought a whole box of pediatric medications and IV supplies to Kimini, the only thing I opened was the gauze and cleansing solution. But that’s okay because I asked God to bring us the people that He wanted us to see, and so He brought us a few toddlers with small wounds.

When we left Kimini, I watched the mud huts, thatched roofs, and waving children fade in the rearview mirror, but I know they will not fade from my heart. My experience in Kimini was so entirely different from what I expected, but because of that I gained much more than I was anticipating. I experienced the sovereignty of God in a place where only He can sustain life. I learned to envision the kingdom of God and pray passionately for its advancement. I learned to see God’s people and love them while whispering the name of Jesus when you can. I learned that God answers prayers, but not necessarily expectations. I realized that’s a good thing. Most of all, I learned to wake up every day and ask God to bring us the hungry and thirsty. And I saw that He will.