Swaziland (part 2).

(This is part 2 of this post.  I split it up because long blog posts are annoying.  And I hate being annoying.)

It's funny how forgetful we are.  I came back on a Wednesday.  The next day, new students arrived at work.  And I've been going ever since.  The few conclusions I made have been buried by two months of doing, creating, teaching, leading.  After chewing on his questions these last couple of weeks, I remembered.

The Swazi people believe in prayer.  Like, really believe it.  If they pray something, they know it's going to happen.  Period.  Full stop.

Most of our days were spent doing home visits.  We'd go to the homesteads of families in the church (and several neighbors), bring some gifts of food and hygiene items, share some scripture and pray with them.  It was awkward.  Swazis are difficult to read, so half the time, it felt like we were being invasive and rude.  Pastor Maziya had to continually comfort us that people were happy and appreciated our presence.

Anyway.  On one home visit, we talked to guy that explained his faith in prayer.  He said that he rarely knew where his next meal was coming from.  He was incredibly poor.  No family to take care of him.  No job prospects.  No good land.  And yet, he had never gone hungry.  He had never gone a day without some kind of food.  When he would pray, God would answer that prayer.

Boom.  Do I have that faith?

Perhaps a more telling story of this was on our very first home visit.  His name is Sofiso.  He was a deacon and leader in the church and lived on his homestead with his mother and sister.  When we visited with him, we shared some verse and talked about life for about 30 or 40 minutes.  He and his mother worked at the hospital in town.  In fact, his  mother should be coming home from work any minute and we could meet her, too.  We decided to stick around a while longer.

She was probably 20 minutes late when we decided we should probably move on.  So we asked Sofiso what we could pray for with him.  He said that his brother was very sick.  He was in the hospital where his family worked, but they had been faithfully praying for him and he was getting better.  In fact, they were hoping he would come home some time that week, so we could come back and meet him, too.  We prayed something fierce for him.  These people see enough death.  God would heal this man.

As we walked down the driveway, Sofiso got a call.  It was his mother.  His brother had just died.

Literally as we were praying for this man's recovery, God was taking him home.  Down to the minute.

Sofiso didn't cry.  Swazis don't.  Our team did.

Later that week, we were blessed to be able to provide most of the funeral costs.  It was too close to our hearts for us not to be able to help in some way.

But just think about Sofiso's faith.  Maybe the severity of his brother's condition wasn't communicated to us.  Maybe he took a sudden turn on that day.  Either way, Sofiso, just minutes before, was laughing and smiling and confidently trusting that God would heal him.  Despite numerous prayers for healing and provision not being answered in the past, he believed and trusted that God would heal his brother. 

When do I have that faith?  When, if I pray something, do I believe it's going to happen?  And when, after I've prayed something and the exact opposite happens, have I continued praying and praising God for his goodness?

If that man from my church asked me again today, I would tell him this story.  This faith, that I've so quickly forgotten, challenges me to trust my God.  I want that faith, darn it.  I want to, despite numerous disappointments before, still believe that God will answer my prayers when I ask something in his name and with his heart.  My hope is to not forget that faith as I have for the past several weeks, but to have that kind of faith.