Out of Darkness, into Light
What I’d really like at this moment is a nap. As we are scuttling through the clouds at 38,000 feet, returning home from an intense time of ministry in the Republic of Congo followed by several days with our family in Geneva, my head is bobbing even as my mind refuses to concede to the urge to nod off.
I feel compelled to gather the jumbled jigsaw pieces scattered willy-nilly over three continents during the past eleven days and try to figure out how to assemble them into a picture I know God wants to show me. I’m certain it’s there, like the panoramic photo on a puzzle box, but right now it feels like trying to recapture an elusive dream that has vanished like a soap bubble.
Come with me to the Congo as we piece together this puzzle. Having been asked to preach at a citywide evangelistic campaign in the Republic of Congo-Brazzaville, I thought I was armed and ready after weeks, even months, of diligent preparation. But when a quick survey of the crowd revealed a sea of restless, despondent faces reluctant to make eye contact with mine, I knew only the Holy Spirit could lead us to some common ground. Feeling rather presumptuous, even embarrassed, by my First World privilege, I wondered if those who struggle to eke out a subsistent living would be able to relate to the Jesus I know. I jettisoned my carefully constructed notes in favor of simply presenting myself as a letter to them from Christ.Blessedly, the Holy Spirit had given me an opening illustration through a cycling incident two weeks before. My husband Philippe and I were huffing and puffing up an incline in our neighborhood when suddenly there was a loud snap—and my legs were left frenetically pedaling like a hamster on a treadmill. The chain on my brand-new bike had broken in two, left behind on the road even as I felt myself tilt precariously towards the pavement. Yet God’s Psalm 91 promise of angelic assistance ensured that I landed upright with no injuries, laughing out loud as I shouted, “The Lord is going to break chains in Brazzaville!!”
What I did not expect was the magnitude of spiritual warfare we would encounter in trying to deliver that message. Having ministered extensively in many countries on most continents, Philippe and I have an incredible PIT crew (personal intercessory team) undergirding us, including the APT, several pastors, and a multitude of other gifted prayer warriors acutely attuned to the voice of God and promptings of the Holy Spirit. But we all know the opposition that comes with breaking ground in new territory.
According to the pastor leading this evangelistic campaign, Congolese authorities had never before granted permission to a Christian organization to use the grounds of the “stadium,” an enormous sports field sans Western amenities. However, it had been previously utilized by Muslim groups as well as some who had offered blood sacrifices on the land. Since the park is adjacent to the presidential residence, security was extremely tight, meaning even the airwaves were vying for the right of way as their signals crossed with our sound system. There would be intermittent lapses of several seconds as annoying hiccups interrupted the flow of music and words.
But worship is always our warfare, even when the enemy tries to mute it. I thought of the people of Judah in 2 Chronicles 20 when faced with multiple armies of “-ites” coming against them. King Jehoshaphat said, “Lord, we don’t know what to do, but our eyes are on you.” And then he instructed his people to worship, giving thanks to the Lord for His goodness and enduring love. You know what happened—the enemy turned on itself and was soundly defeated.
So there I was, standing on a rickety platform in a dry, weary land, wondering how to communicate the love of God to these precious people who had next to nothing. God wanted to break their chains, but how?
They overcame by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony.
I just needed to tell them the stories of Jesus, those recorded in the Bible and those written in my own life!
As I preached over the next hour or so, with Philippe translating into French, my Brazzaville brethren and I came onto a level playing field as the Holy Spirit called to mind one story after another of how the love of Jesus touches all who seek Him. Sharing my own personal stories of how He had helped me overcome one loss after another—unborn babies, the suicides of my siblings, two bouts with cancer, and multiple surgeries—I began to teach about His unchanging nature and of how even the Hebrew name for Jesus, Yeshua, comes from a word meaning “to save, to heal, to deliver.” I explained how Jesus is the Word spoken of in Genesis, in John, in Revelation—throughout the Bible. I told them Jesus has never stopped healing and delivering His children—and that He had come to break their chains and set them free, that very day!
Jesus watches over His word to perform it. After offering a corporate prayer for salvation, I explained the importance of forgiveness in healing, leading them in a prayer of repentance, releasing those who had wounded them to the care of Jesus. With each offering of Scripture, testimony, and prayer, the power of God to break every chain was made manifest. When I spoke the words of Psalm 107:20, “He sent forth His word and healed them,” the power of the word met the expectancy of the crowd and countless people waved their arms in the air to acknowledge receiving a healing touch from Jesus!
Darkness gave way to light as their chains began to fall off. The following day when Philippe preached at a church which we had helped start a few years earlier, the entire atmosphere was pervaded by expectant hope and exuberant joy. Passersby, including Muslims, would stop and stare as they witnessed a packed-to-overflowing house praising Jesus with unbridled enthusiasm, dancing in the aisles, cheering like we were at the World Cup rather than at church. For five hours, we worshiped and celebrated the goodness of God. Things had shifted as the Sun of Righteousness overshadowed the prince of darkness.
We left the Congo with assurance that ground had been broken, evidence that Jesus had indeed saved, healed, and delivered. They had been given tools to continue to break up the fallow ground, to irrigate the parched soil with the water of the Word. Yet it felt like a drop in the bucket.
Flying across Africa to Europe, I wondered what kind of culture shock would await us when we landed in Geneva. To travel from one of the poorest countries in the world to one of the richest over the course of ten hours did not allow enough wiggle room to process such disparate emotions, despite the fact that we are Swiss-American and understand the cultural mindset. But what I saw on the faces around me was the same restless, despondent look I had seen in Congo. This was just dressed-up despair.
So there I was once again, standing not on a rickety platform but on a polished airport terminal concourse, wondering how to communicate the love of God to precious people who had next to everything. God wants to break their chains too, but how?
Perhaps the answer is simpler than we realize, as near as the familiar face we see in the mirror every morning. The guileless, unveiled, unbridled love of Christ in us as His representatives, His letter, is truly the hope of glory for the world around us. To present Jesus with or without words, to carry His presence with humble majesty, to offer even a smile or kind word as a cup of cold water in His name, to be ready to give the reason for our hope at any moment—this is how the world will know the One we love and serve. To unapologetically acknowledge and celebrate the King of kings and Lord of lords by offering whatever we have in His name, knowing He alone has the power to multiply it through us—this is the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. And this is the picture I believe He wanted both you and me to see.
Jan de Chambrier
MICN Prayer Ambassador
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Thanks Jan this is exactly what I needed to hear today. Your assessment of dressed up despair is the perfect description of the post-covid world. We are the Truth wrapped up in flesh, blood and bones and the Holy Spirit of God lives within us. That means that we are all that is needed. God bless you two today as you serve Him
Chaplain Dennis Maloney
Our God never disappoints, even when things are topsey~tervy, or seem hopeless! Thank you Jan for sharing your experience with us…the ones that prayed for a people we may never know personally. I see faces as I read of your moments in a foreign country….people who were wondering “why” you and Phillips would stand in the hot sun and speak with such passion about a Man they did not know. Blessings to you both!
Much Love,
Shirley and Ronnie Davis