While in Mombasa, Kenya, my mission trip team traveled with a pastor named Christopher. He drove us more than two hours south into the bush to visit one of his five churches. On the way, we met a man who had been walking in the bush for two days. We learned he was a Masai, a member of a tribe of people who inhabit many of Kenya’s game parks and are known by their bright red clothes and nomadic lifestyle. We offered him a ride (after he offered me my first ant) and he joined us on our adventure to the rural village. Approaching the village, we parked the car and walked for miles through the heat and humidity, stopping at each mud home.
Again and again we were eagerly welcomed inside, and we offered to pray with the families and their children. We had the honor of sharing the love of Jesus with the villagers, inviting them to come see the newly planted church that barely had a roof.
In one of the mud huts, a woman with ear pain was healed when we had her little child pray for her! She visited our meeting at the church that night and shared in front of everyone. “They came and prayed, and it felt like a cool rushing, flowing waterfall in my ear,” she said. “I am healed!”
At our meeting that turned into a crusade, I told my story about how Jesus loved me on the cross and redeemed my life. When I asked if people would like to receive His love for them, not a single adult or child remained sitting in the crowd. Every person came forward with open hands to receive God’s love. We were overwhelmed at the revival we saw in the village that night.
Later at the airport, Pastor Christopher told us the village was entirely Muslim. We had no idea! We were the very first evangelists to come into their homes and invite them to receive Jesus.