Reflections from an encounter in Zambia

December 12, 2007--Our ABC missionaries, Sarah and Charles West, live in a residential neighborhood in Lusaka, the capital city. The dirt road in front of their home is busy with traffic all day long. It is not automobile traffic; it is foot traffic, and the streams of people walking toward the city begins before daybreak. Our delegation of American Baptist leaders stayed in a guest house complex across this road from the West’s home. Each of us slept in a small thatched-roof bungalow. One morning after breakfast together in the restaurant at the guesthouse, I caught the eye of one of the restaurant workers and smiled a hello to her as I returned to my bungalow to retrieve the things I would need that day. Our delegation was to depart in 15 minutes.

Back in my bungalow, with my mouth still full of toothpaste, I heard a faint knock at the door. I opened the door, and there stood the woman from the breakfast room. "May I speak to you for a moment?" I hesitated for a second. Time was short. I assumed that she wanted to sell me some crafts. But I opened the door wide and invited her in.

"They say you are bishops." (Whoa!) I explained that yes, we were church leaders . . . pastors . . ., from the United States. She began again: "I am having difficulties. Can you tell me what to do?" We sat down side by side on the edge of the bed and Pauline poured out her heart. Her husband of six years had connected again with a longtime girlfriend and had moved in with her. More than that, he had moved their household possessions into the girlfriend’s house. "I want to have a few of my possessions back. She won’t give them to me. Tell me what I should do." She told me her possessions were a refrigerator and stove, without which she couldn’t sufficiently prepare meals for herself and her two young children. We talked about her options, and glancing at my watch 20 minutes later, I suggested that we pray together before I had to leave. As we walked together toward the guesthouse restaurant, I asked her if she ever prayed. She had been raised in a Catholic family, but was not involved in church life as an adult. Again, she brought the topic back to her dilemma: "Tell me what I should do." I veered back to the prayer conversation, suggesting that she share her feelings and thoughts with God, and ask God to help her. I explained that I was confident that although she felt turmoil in knowing what to do right now, that God would settle in the midst of the flurry of decisions she had to make, and would give her a sense of peace and resolve about the option to pursue. That peace would be a sign of God's answer to her prayers.

The vans had not arrived for our delegation yet, so Pauline and I entered the empty restaurant and sat down at a table to talk more. We talked about the power of forgiveness and we talked about the divorce and custody laws in Zambia. We talked about extended family support. We talked about her meager savings plan to purchase another stove and refrigerator. And then she asked me: "If God hears our prayers, . . . and if God answers our prayers, will God answer the prayers of my husband’s girlfriend, who says she has been praying and praying that he will leave me and be with her?"

Oh God, tell me what I should do! "God wants goodness for you," I finally answered. "You’ve been married for six years. Imagine yourself six years from now in the future. What do you see?" I really don’t know which mental image she focused on, but it seemed to soften the sorrow on her face.

I’ve prayed for Pauline many times since that day. "God, grant her strength and courage and peace. Show her the way."