BARREN NO MORE

The power of a testimony.

The service this morning in Tasia (Nairobi, Kenya) was hijacked. Not by the woman giving her testimony. But, by God. As Pastor Harrison called the lady forward to share her story I was a little bit anxious. I was a youth pastor for a long time. I’ve seen some wild stuff happen when you hand a microphone to an untrained, regular old church member. And, as my Kenyan brothers put it: time was not on our side. Services often get long in Kenya. And, I’m always up last. And of course, what I have to say is far more important than some testimony from a laywoman.

Pride does come before a fall. And this morning, I fell right into the amazing grace of an all powerful God…through a Kenyan woman’s story of God’s power and healing.

The woman had a child nineteen years ago. A beautiful baby girl. After her delivery, there were complications which left the woman barren and sick (think issue of blood). I have never met a Kenyan woman who did not love children. And through her tears this morning, I heard the heartbreak of a barren womb. The doctors found no solution for her. She despaired to the point of considering taking her life. All she ever wanted was to be mother to a large, wonderful family. After 19 years of barren grief, this woman brought her needs to God. And, the church prayed.

As the words and the church prayed fell from her lips, as on cue, her 19 year old daughter walked to the front of the church holding her new baby sister. The scene and the story mirrored the miracles of those in my New Testament. It wrecked me.

I thought we were just going to hear “another” testimony. But we didn’t. We heard that the God who said He changes not… actually changes NOT! His arm is not shortened. His ears are not dull. And there is nothing…nothing too hard for the Lord.

I am so glad the doctors couldn’t figure it out. I’m glad this case
was referred to the Great Physician.

But God…

What did she just say?! I was jolted back to reality. She’s still speaking.

But God! Her hand clutching her sweat soaked worship handkerchief slowly raised toward heaven. As she sat down, the church stood up. My ears are still ringing from the shouts and applause. I pictured God peering over the edge of heaven into the packed slum church in Tasia this morning, smiling…then leaning back on His throne as He whispered…you’re welcome.

Oh yeah. Then I preached.

But it really didn’t matter. God had already spoken.