By the second day of our trip, we were quite well seasoned at sharing the gospel and praying for people. We would walk, pray, walk, share, walk, encourage…until we found ourselves miles away from camp and needing to head home.
These people come from a much different culture than ours. They are very open about their problems and the sin in their life compared to us. We would walk past houses and people would come after us saying “I know why you are here! You are praying with people. Don’t pass my house; stop and pray for me too!” Then we would go inside, and within two minutes we would know every problem they had and every failed relationship they needed to reconcile.
There was one little women who’s husband was an alcoholic. She said she was saved, but that her husband was not. She wanted us to pray for them and said it was a struggle day in and day out at their home because of constant fighting and bickering. As everyone was praying over her, I prayed for Wilson, her husband, that somehow we might run into him. About 20 minutes later, we ran into a man on the road named Wilson. He said he didn’t go to church and had never accepted Christ. After the men in my group had counseled him for a half hour and answered his questions, he accepted Christ as Savior, and then we prayed for him. I never went back to see if it was her husband or not, but I still pray for her.