Can You Hear Me Now?

Our pastor friend, Devin, sent us this amazing story!



The Africa project was great. God seemed to be working at every turn and every word. It was a really great, but hot time. One day, we went to a little village to visit a very sick girl, Fatu, with plans to take her to see a doctor. When we arrived, she was in bad shape, just next to death. Here was a 16 year old girl who looked 12, her arms no bigger than two stalks of celery. We tried to explain to her parents that if she stayed there she would die, but if we took her to the hospital, there was a chance she could live. The local witch doctor had given her drugs--turned out this was good or she would have been in a great deal of pain.



Paul, the missionary accompanying me, tried his cell phone to call his wife because she spoke the language better. Maybe she could convince the parents to let Fatu be taken to the doctor. Even though there was no cell service in the area, from that little room-- the call went through! Despite Susan's pleas the parents insisted the girl was tired, and they were too, and she should stay home. We were heartbroken.



Paul sat on Fatu's bed, stroking her hair, and she reached up and began playing with his phone. She put it to her ear and pretended to talk. I told Paul to call Susan back. Again there was no cell service in the area, and again the call went through. I told Susan we would put the phone on the girl’s ear and Susan could tell her about Jesus.



Here in this tiny, dimly lit, tattered room, Susan was able to tell the girl about Jesus while all these Muslims stood around and watched, not knowing what was being said since Fatu was listening though a cell phone. Susan asked a bunch of questions: Do you believe Jesus can save you? Do you want Him to? Do you want Him to forgive you of your sins and make a home in heaven for you? On and on. Susan said she quoted John 3:16 to Fatu, saying, “For God so loved Fatu that He sent His only Son…” Each time, Fatu answered ‘Wow’, which is Yes in the Wolof language.

There was a young man in the room that spoke the best English in the village. Our missionaries had been talking to him for quite a few months. As Fatu finished with the phone, she asked us to pray for her, she asked the young man to pray for her. He did and wept as he prayed. This is very, very unusual in that culture for a Muslim man to pray and show emotion in public. I prayed aloud as well, but only the three of us, and God, understood my English. It was a very moving time. As we left their small home, Paul tried to make another call. There was no phone service.