This morning was a very “watery” morning. It wasn’t raining or anything. But, my medical forms were all spotted with droplets of water that kept coming down from my eyes.
I was uncontrollable, and streams of tears kept flowing.
I was touched today.
Touched by the Holy Spirit.
The day started like any other day.
Our Spanish translator, Miguel, and Giovanna, a colorectal surgeon from Florida, joined me and Chris for the first time. I was excited to have them with us, but I didn’t know what God was going to do that day as I was waiting and seeking God in prayer and fasting.
And we met R. She was very shy. I performed the medical interview while Chris did the blood pressure and blood glucose screenings. When it came time to ask about R.’s spiritual health, I suddenly lost my words and became timid.
What is this? Is it the presence of two new members to our group that increased the spirit of timidity in me? Is it the very Gospel that I was about to share what made me scared? Where is this fear coming from? Sensing my hesitancy in speaking up, Giovanna stepped in and asked her whether she knows the Lord Jesus and whether she has a personal relationship with Jesus. She asked the question, “Do you know where you will be if you were to die today? Do you have the assurance and confidence of salvation?”
My heart froze at hearing the question Giovanna naturally and confidently asked to R. Yes, I heard about this before – this kind of direct and straightforward approach of assessing one’s spiritual status and their salvation.
But, I was intimidated, and my fear of offending someone prevented me from being a bold witness to her.
That morning before outreach, I had meditated on the book of Acts and marvelled at how the disciples were so “filled with the Holy Spirit” that they “spoke the Word of God with boldness” (Acts 4:31). In ONE verse, the “Holy Spirit” and “boldness” appeared together, and I was suddenly shocked to see my own lack of boldness. I had been praying for years, I mean literally for years, without knowing the true meaning of being filled with the Holy Spirit. And when the moment came, I was unable to boldly proclaim the Word of God.
I was shocked at the state of my heart.
My lack of faith.
And, my heart that is dry, empty of the living water of the Holy Spirit.
Something was very wrong, and I experienced deep sorrow in my heart.
Giovanna probed her further and we learned that R. professes to have the Lord Jesus in her heart, but she was reluctant to tell us why she is not going to church anymore. Giovanna stayed behind to speak to her, while the rest of the team moved on to another house.
In the next house we entered, God moved and challenged the heart of a man who used to be a preacher of the Word of God but became wounded and hurt by “Christians” who lived dual-lives, full of deceit, arrogance, and spiritual blindness. This man, C., in his terrible diabetes and wounded soul, was struggling to get out of his spiritual slumber and get right with God. He knew Jesus to be the truth, but the deep scars in his heart were being left untreated – like the wound from the inch-long nail that was stuck into the sole of his left foot and found only two days later. And just as his diabetes made his foot unable to feel the sharp point of the nail, even though it was causing his foot to rot, the devil’s poisonous attacks and swords were killing the man’s soul.
Prompted by the Holy Spirit, Miguel, our Spanish translator, boldly shared about the loving Father who is waiting for C. to come back, and we prayed over him together. C. knew that it was the answer to his prayer from the night before: “Lord, show me the sign. I will obey you.”
Just as we left C.’s house, Giovanna joined us again, and she gathered us together.
“I knew there was something. R. was hesitant to share why she wasn’t going to church anymore. And, so I stayed behind to ask her more . She was raped at her church.”
The shock.
The pang of pain.
And, the streams of tears.
We had just met C., who was hurt and wounded by so-called “Christians” who lived in bars on weekdays and at church on Sundays. Now, here was R., who was hurt and wounded by someone at a church – physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
I felt the pain in me.
My lack of faith in God.
My lack of boldness in sharing the gospel.
My thirst for the Holy Spirit in me.
The burden of the sins of this world.
The pain and sufferings of the children of God.
And,
R. and C.’s deep chasm of wounds.
Their pain.
I could not stop crying.
At that moment, my heart was gripped by the Holy Spirit.
I was “watery” for the rest of the morning that day.
I felt it, and I knew then that my life would never be the same again.
-You Na