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 Children meet for Sabbath school underneath a tree in the playground. |
 All those with vehicles lent their services to bring people to the baptism. |
Why Am I Here?
September 23 2010 / ShareHim in Namibia, Aug. 20 - Sep. 4 '10 #472by Elfriede Volk
Campaign Site Narrative from Vungu-Vungu, Vungu-Vungu in Namibia. The speaker assigned to this site was Elfriede Volk.
“Why am I here?” I asked myself as I saw attendance at my meetings dwindling. True, there were no Adventists living in Ndama, but why weren’t others coming?
I had been elated on the first Sabbath evening when the young man who directed the choir came over to talk to me. “I thought I recognized you,” he said. “You had meetings in Oluno two years ago, and I was baptized at the conclusion.” But that was then, and this was now, and the choir had moved on to the other sites.
“Perhaps you can help me answer a question a young man gave me last night,” one of the other speakers said at morning worship. “I don’t think the question came from him directly, but there’s a group who put him up to it. He asked why we allow women to preach when there is no biblical basis for it. I think he was referring to you,” he said, turning to me.
“Do people have objections to me, a woman, presenting the Gospel?” I asked my site manager that evening.
“Well, they eh…,” he hedged.
I took his lack of a straight answer as confirmation, and prayed that God would somehow use me, despite my gender.
When the meeting ended that evening, I invited all those who had special problems for which they wanted prayer to come forward. No one moved.
“We all have problems,” I said. “Problems we cannot solve on our own. The day I left home to come here, my youngest daughter confided that she had just been diagnosed with a chronic illness, and today I received word that my sister-in-law has died. Some of you may be mourning the loss of those two young men who died in that tragic car accident while they were en route to the meetings. I grieve with you.”
I noticed people looking at each other, then standing up and coming forward. Soon all were at the front with me. I invited them to join hands in a circle as we prayed. As I was packing up my equipment afterwards, I noticed a young girl standing by my table. She picked up the puppet I had used to tell a children’s story earlier that evening, and put her hand inside.
“I have a little girl, too,” she said. “This doll looks so much like her.” She sighed, then turned to me hesitantly, almost reluctantly. “Could I…? Would you…? Could I talk to you privately?”
We agreed to meet the next evening, before the meeting started. She was there, waiting for me. I took her hand and led her around to the side of the shelter that had been constructed for our Sabbath morning meetings.
“I have a little girl,” she began again. “I was still nursing her when my mother died. My father wasn’t there. I desperately needed someone, someone who cared. He got me pregnant, then left.”
She stopped to choke back tears, then continued. “I knew I couldn’t look after two babies and go to school, so I took some poison. The baby died inside me, but now I have pain, such terrible pain, constantly. I have a sponsor now so I can go to school, and I was baptized in October, but the pain….”
I wrapped my arms around her and let her tears soak my top. HERE was my reason for being there. Not some vague, abstract idea, but a real live little girl who was hurting physically, emotionally, and spiritually. With what she had gone through, a man would not have been able to help her. In fact, he would not even have been able to understand. For that she needed a mother-figure, a woman.
When I was in control of my own emotions, I prayed with her and for her, that God would take away her pain. Not just her physical pain, but also her emotional pain, and bring peace and healing to her heart.
Before the meetings were finished, she told me that her pain was gone. She also brought some of her friends to the meetings. On the last Sabbath I let her choose one of my puppets, to keep. She picked the one that looked like her little girl.
That afternoon I also received a wonderful gift, as I witnessed 2 people from my site seal their commitment to their Savior through baptism, with others planning to be baptized in the near future. And my site manager told me that he and his friends would continue to build on the foundation that had been laid, with a view of building up a church in Ndama.
I had been elated on the first Sabbath evening when the young man who directed the choir came over to talk to me. “I thought I recognized you,” he said. “You had meetings in Oluno two years ago, and I was baptized at the conclusion.” But that was then, and this was now, and the choir had moved on to the other sites.
“Perhaps you can help me answer a question a young man gave me last night,” one of the other speakers said at morning worship. “I don’t think the question came from him directly, but there’s a group who put him up to it. He asked why we allow women to preach when there is no biblical basis for it. I think he was referring to you,” he said, turning to me.
“Do people have objections to me, a woman, presenting the Gospel?” I asked my site manager that evening.
“Well, they eh…,” he hedged.
I took his lack of a straight answer as confirmation, and prayed that God would somehow use me, despite my gender.
When the meeting ended that evening, I invited all those who had special problems for which they wanted prayer to come forward. No one moved.
“We all have problems,” I said. “Problems we cannot solve on our own. The day I left home to come here, my youngest daughter confided that she had just been diagnosed with a chronic illness, and today I received word that my sister-in-law has died. Some of you may be mourning the loss of those two young men who died in that tragic car accident while they were en route to the meetings. I grieve with you.”
I noticed people looking at each other, then standing up and coming forward. Soon all were at the front with me. I invited them to join hands in a circle as we prayed. As I was packing up my equipment afterwards, I noticed a young girl standing by my table. She picked up the puppet I had used to tell a children’s story earlier that evening, and put her hand inside.
“I have a little girl, too,” she said. “This doll looks so much like her.” She sighed, then turned to me hesitantly, almost reluctantly. “Could I…? Would you…? Could I talk to you privately?”
We agreed to meet the next evening, before the meeting started. She was there, waiting for me. I took her hand and led her around to the side of the shelter that had been constructed for our Sabbath morning meetings.
“I have a little girl,” she began again. “I was still nursing her when my mother died. My father wasn’t there. I desperately needed someone, someone who cared. He got me pregnant, then left.”
She stopped to choke back tears, then continued. “I knew I couldn’t look after two babies and go to school, so I took some poison. The baby died inside me, but now I have pain, such terrible pain, constantly. I have a sponsor now so I can go to school, and I was baptized in October, but the pain….”
I wrapped my arms around her and let her tears soak my top. HERE was my reason for being there. Not some vague, abstract idea, but a real live little girl who was hurting physically, emotionally, and spiritually. With what she had gone through, a man would not have been able to help her. In fact, he would not even have been able to understand. For that she needed a mother-figure, a woman.
When I was in control of my own emotions, I prayed with her and for her, that God would take away her pain. Not just her physical pain, but also her emotional pain, and bring peace and healing to her heart.
Before the meetings were finished, she told me that her pain was gone. She also brought some of her friends to the meetings. On the last Sabbath I let her choose one of my puppets, to keep. She picked the one that looked like her little girl.
That afternoon I also received a wonderful gift, as I witnessed 2 people from my site seal their commitment to their Savior through baptism, with others planning to be baptized in the near future. And my site manager told me that he and his friends would continue to build on the foundation that had been laid, with a view of building up a church in Ndama.