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Brazil: The Wanderer

Carla: The wanderer.

Keneilwe and I were the only two gringas in a room with 'round about 20 people situated in the southern part of São Paulo, Brazil. We were told it was still a very new church and that the passionate couple that God called to plant this church still required some help from the Estacion 337 elders to share some teachings during their services. They had the worship very much under control though, with a brilliant band willing to make lots of beautiful noise in the name of Jesus.

After a complete worship session, a word from the on-fire lady who co-planted the church and and the biggest part of the message of the night went by - which we only understood through broken translation - the atmosphere was focused. The small congregation clung to every word that came from Djow's mouth and I could almost experience their openness towards God's Spirit. I sat there, half-listening to the broken translation being whispered beside me, praying in tongues and marveling at the awesomeness of our God that brought me all the way to Brazil just to draw my attention to the love He lavishes upon me every single moment. It was just then when emotions were starting to rise, the guitar starting to play in the background and Djow zealously shouting his message, when the wanderer came in. I didn't hear her and my eyes were closed, but the strong scent of cheap liquor in her breath mixed with old sweat and street dust filled the air. Her presence would not go unrecognized. She stumbled onto a chair and as she made herself comfortable the focused atmosphere was broken and people subtly threw glances in her direction. She was dirty. She was uncared for. She was drunk.

The first (divinely inspired) thought that came into my mind was this: Healthy people don't need a Healer, sick people do... Everybody stood up as the worship started, but my eyes kept going back to the wanderer, analyzing every move she made and every action towards her. Every now and then she would stand up, try to find her balance, lift her hands to heaven and say "Gloria de Deus" just loud enough for everybody to hear it above the beat of the drums. Thereafter she would either fall on her knees, face down, or she would bend over the chair like Catholic believers tend to do in church. Confusion overcame a few faces, others showed faint annoyance and yet there were those who seemed to have absolute compassion. This time I was the confused one, but only for a minute since God opened my eyes to see a different reality. As I stood, separated at the back and examining the situation, God showed me the brokenness of every person in that room, including myself. The insecurities, past sins, present sins, confusions, questions, frustrations, broken relationships, feelings of faithlessness, unworthiness and rejection...and the list can go on. No one is separated from this brokenness. We are all merely broken vessels. This is one of my new favorite verses in the Bible: "I know what you are like, O Ephraim. You cannot hide yourself from me, O Israel. You have left me as a prostitute leaves her husband; you are utterly defiled. Your deeds won’t let you return to your God. You are a prostitute through and through, and you do not know the LORD." (Hosea 5:3, 4 NLT)

Youch. We are all sick and therefore we all need a Healer! The sooner we accept the fact that we are useless, utterly broken and disgusting, the sooner we will be able to give ourselves over to Perfection - and the process of sanctification, being made perfect and holy, can begin to manifest in our daily lives.

And I just sat there for a moment, silent and broken before God, knowing that I'm not one bit better that this woman across from me. I was blown away by how broken and sinful I really am...but what hit me the most was the love God had for me, a prostitute of this world. Utterly defiled, but perfectly loved. And because of the action of perfect love, Jesus dying on a cross, I am now perfect and blameless in the eyes of my God and Father.

Dear Wanderer, I want to thank you. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a tool in God's hand, there to show me how absolutely dependent I am of him and how great His love is for the broken, defiled an ugly.

Though you are a lowly worm, O Jacob, don’t be afraid, people of Israel, for I will help you. I am the LORD, your Redeemer. I am the Holy One of Israel.’ (Isaiah 41:14 NLT)

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