God spoke to me recently. It wasn’t in your typical way, then again I don’t know if there is a typical way. I was in a village, north of Lichinga, during Ramadan, sitting inside a hut with my friend Sally and a lady I’d just met the day before who was on a short term trip from WA. Even though every one else was fasting, my language helper and her mother had prepared a meal for us. It was way past breakfast and no where near lunch time but we sat down inside to eat chima and beans. As we sat there not really knowing what was going on, or the right way to behave, or just how much chima we were expected to eat, God spoke. You know that feeling you get when someone says something seemingly random that just hits you and you think to yourself… “Aghhh, how did they know I was thinking that? How did they know I needed to hear that?” It was beautiful. A bit like a coffee date with really good friends, just not such great food. I was glad that there was no power, and that huts are quite dark cos there were tears welling in my eyes.
And I think as well as saying that thing, He was saying something else too. Maybe that I don’t need to know what’s going on all the time or be able to understand words perfectly or to stick to a plan. That if I sit in what appears to me oftentimes as chaos and listen… God is there, He is at work. He’s not limited by my lack of understanding or inability to speak.