Wednesday, June 11, 2008 - The Prison Ministry and Street Children

Today, we went to on a trip with the street ministry into Maputo. Of all of things we’ve done so far, this one stretched me the most. The whole time in the van, my body was flushed with fear and insecurity. Two of the amazingly sweet and anointed Australian women came on the trip also, and were trying to talk to me, but I was too afraid to be polite. The plan was to go to the local jail and minister to the prisoner’s there and then go into the street. I had never done outright evangelism on city streets… or anywhere, actually. I felt as if I was about to jump from a high dive… and I don’t know how to swim!!!

I shared my concerns with the other women, and they tried to encourage me. They shared that they also had fears, and the Lord used them through their faults and failures. They spoke kind and honest words that went straight to my heart. I continued to pray and felt better all the way up to the time we got out of the car.

We entered the jail, a place that looked more like a city hall than a prison. We sat in the front and were instructed to not speak to anyone while of the older teens went to the back to talk to one of the jailers. After about 20 minutes, we were allowed to go visit the prisoners. We walked around the building with our large bag of bread and were told to wait outside one of the buildings. The building was concrete and had a parking lot in front. Again, much different than the prisons in America.

Two guards arrived and they opened the door. About 12 men poured out with their heads low, a few squinting our way out of their dark cell. I couldn’t see that well into it, but it appeared they all shared one large dark room with cots.

Manuel, one of the leaders of the street ministries and also one of the kids in the center, shared his testimony with the prisoners along with the gospel. One of the other teens translated for us. Afterwards, he asked if anyone would like to receive Christ. All of them except for a few raised their hands. They asked us to pray over each of them, and we all moved forward to lay hands.

While Manuel spoke, my eyes scanned each of the men and asked the Holy Spirit to give me discernment on what each of them needed. Some of the men looked eagerly to Manuel, soaking up all of his words and open to the forgiveness of God. Some others sat angrily, obviously feeling as if this was a waste of time. A few seemed confused not knowing what to think, and the rest were indifferent.

After we prayed, we distributed the bread and gave seconds to those who asked. I was a little disappointed because we left right after. Though I was scared, I was still looking forward to the opportunity to speak with the prisoners and listen to their stories. But a few minutes after they received their portion, we left to be with the street kids.

We traveled back to downtown Maputo were we stopped in front of a large multistory building. It was evening by this time, and we entered it to walk up a few flights of stairs until we made it to the roof. There were no lights inside, so I held onto the rail as we made our way up the stairs. Once there, we began an evening service for all the children who live on the street. They ranged from 5 year olds to older teens. We worshipped and the children danced and sang. With the guys leading it, they wouldn’t allow for people to just stand around but encouraged everyone to dance, sing, and shout to the Lord.
In between worship and people speaking, Manuel kept coming to me and asking me to speak. To these requests, I denied saying that I had nothing to talk about. He looked at me through the darkness and told me to tell him when I felt ready. I asked God what he would have me say and searched through my mind every sermon and moving Bible study I had completed looking for inspiration and found none.

Finally, I told God I could think of nothing and asked for help. (I like how that was the last thing I thought of.) He brought to mind my experience the previous evening and how he had touched me. I remember thinking how I didn’t want to share it because I did not think it would cause an emotional reaction. And of course I wanted an emotional reaction because then I would know that I did a good job and that they actually heard God. Checking my pride, I listened and decided to share that. I told Manuel, he smiled, and signaled to the other leader I would share.

After worship, we all sat while three of the street ministry leaders spoke. They each took turns speaking. One spoke in Portuguese while the others translated in the native dialect and English. I shared my testimony, which was not as bad as I thought it would be, and they came up and complimented me afterwards.

After the service, we all got in the car to leave and Kat was visibly upset. As we drove away, there was a group of children standing near the building. They could not have been more than 4 or 5 years old, and it was already late at night. Kat sobbed in the cab asking, “How can this happen? They’re just babies.” Manuel did his best to console her and explain how some have been kicked out because their parents can’t afford them and some choose to be out because it’s easier than being at home. And others chose to because there’s freedom being out on your own.

This did not help her that much, and we drove home listening to our thoughts and lifting the children up to God. I remember feeling sorrow for the children, but even more so for Kat. It appeared this was her first time to be face to face with injustice and discrimination among children and black people. I said a prayer for her and hoped that she would take that knowledge and use it to change lives. I prayed that her experience would be more than just a sad moment, but a life changing experience and that she would be used to bring about renewal to these children one way or another.