Where the Spirit of the Lord Is

We arrived in our destination city in Burkina Faso only a few short hours before the first call. We had just enough time to bring in our bags, eat a quick dinner, and begin to settle in to rest when we got the news.

Pascal, one of the African men who is a dear friend of the Richters (the missionaries here), has a new baby in his house. His wife, Sylvestine, had their first baby just two weeks ago. "She has been having problems breastfeeding," Suzanne explained, "so she basically quit. Now she is concerned that the baby is not well." Suzanne was worried that the baby, Jacques, had likely not eaten in days. He was already very small, probably from a slightly premature birth. 

Well is kind of problem is right up my alley, so we hit the ground running, and I made my first on-call, night shift visit to an African compound in the middle of the night.

As we pulled up to the collection of mud huts and shut off the vehicle, the world went sudemly silent and absolutely dark. It was a pure, peaceful darkness that I felt could only happen in this remote village in the middle of Africa. The stars popped out instantly, and I sensed the presence of God as I was reminded of his undeniable faithfulness. 

We were welcomed into the sleeping courtyard, where mats were scattered in every possible place with little black bodies sprawled out sleeping on them. One by one, people began to stir and flashlights were lit. Someone even went up on the roof and started waking people up. I could only imagine what she was saying..."look, look! The white people have come! And they are out in the middle of the night! Look at how their skin glows in the star light!"

We found Sylvestine and Jacques, and I tried not to gasp. Jacques, who could not be but five pounds at two weeks old, lay limp and still in his mothers arms. Her bare chest was exposed, and she cradled her baby in one arm and used the other to tenderly support her obviously painful breast. That breast was easily four times the size of the other one, and burning hot to the touch. She panted heavily, and beads of sweat collected on her brow. 

I learned that she had ceased to breastfeed on that side because it was painful, probably related to a poor latch - something a little education would have prevented for this first-time mother. Now, she was severely engorged and was beginning to have signs of mastitis. Her breast was so large and hard that it was impossible for the baby to latch on that side at all. 

When a woman has problems such as these in Burkina Faso, she will return to the house of her mother for assistance. This was the case with Sylvestine, only there was a slight problem. Pascal and his wife converted to Christianity a year ago, but they were the only ones in their family to commit themselves to Jesus. Sylvestine's mother and father wanted her and Pascal to present a chicken to sacrifice in the morning to appease the evil spirits that were causing the mother and child to be sick. These kind of sacrifices often involve cutting the child's abdomen in several places and sometimes inserting small fetishes like special stones and bones into the lacerations, where they will remain as the wounds heal over the items. 

We took Sylvestine and Jacques to the hospital, where the nurse refused to see her because she was with white people. I guess she had a problem with us; Suzanne suggested that some African health care professionals are both intimidated by white people and angry at us because of the fear that we will disapprove of them and try to take over what they are doing. So they sent her to the maternity ward of the hospital, where they gave her an injection to "let her milk down" and sent her home. Completely dissatisfied with the care she received and the lack of attention given to the baby, we brought her back to our house and sat down on the porch together.

We then assisted Sylvestine in nursing Jacques, giving her special instructions on latching techniques as well as the frequency and duration of feedings. We helped her get a strong, successful latch, and Jacques fed like a champ for the first time in a while. As she fed on her good side, milk began to flow from the inflamed side. I began to gently massage her breast, showing her how to express her milk, and I continued to massage for the next hour. Her huge, hard breast began to soften and shrink. Soon, she began to relax. 

All those hours of breastfeeding class paid off, I suppose, as I got to use the little knowledge I have of breastfeeding to aid this fearful, nervous mother in her uncertainty and pain. 

Before they left, we prayed over them with urgency and faith. We prayed for Jacques to revive and feed successfully. We prayed for him to grow and be strong. We prayed for Sylvestine to have relief from her pain and for the Lord to heal her entirely. Most of all, we prayed for Pascal and Sylvestine to remain strong in their faith and for them to trust the Lord instead of turning to animistic practices...even with the pressure they were receiving from their family. 

We promised to check on Sylvestine in the morning, and I fell asleep praying for her and Jacques. 

The next day, we paid another home visit. When I entered the room, I felt a spirit of peace and knew the presence of the Lord was there. Little Jacques had no lacerations on his stomach! He was nursing beautifully when we arrived, and he was more vigorous and awake. His mother was at ease, appreciative of the relief we had helped her to receive the night before, stating that she slept better than she had in a long time. Her breast was smaller, softer, and much less painful. And I almost saw a smile on her face as we reassured her that she was doing a great job. 

We prayed over her again, this time praising God for being a healing, powerful God. And we promised to return and check on her again shortly. 

I cannot underestimate the significance of this event. Spiritual warfare is a reality. The Africans are just more aware of it than we Americans are. Last night in the home of Sylvestine, the enemy was overcome by the power of the living God. No sacrifices were made; no animistic rituals performed. And God brought revival to a young desperate mother and her baby that was fighting for his life. The power of God was tangible and palpable even as I entered the room. The enemy and his demons must flee when the presence of the Lord enters a place. And where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

"The scepter of the wicked will not remain in the land allotted to the righteous," Psalm 125:3 says. That meant a lot to me when I read it this morning because of these recent events. This is why we are here, to help claim this land for the Lord. This is why we do missions, to demolish spiritual strongholds and take back the kingdom of God on earth. Then people will be free from the fear of spirits and instead be free to love and worship the king of all kings. May the land of Burkina Faso became known as a land allotted to the righteous, a people purchased by the blood of the lamb, captured by his power, and captivated by his love.