Venezuela 2013: Juan Carlos’ Mom

Venezuela is incredible. Working at the Samuel House is a truly unique experience. This place does so much and is so much that it is very difficult to capture it all in words. Tonight we left the farm where we are staying and drove down washed out jungle roads in an old church van filled well beyond capacity. Despite rough roads and the van dying in the middle of a small village, we made it to our destination. Philadelphia is a small church building by most standards, but I was blown away by the people, the Presence, and the passion as the sanctuary filled to overflowing.

We danced, sang, and performed human videos and funny skits. Jason, one of our students, preached a short and simple sermon about finding fulfillment in God’s love. There was a large response of people as the nationals stepped forward to be prayed for.

I sat far over on the side as is my usual custom in that kind of setting. The students knew their roles. The team leader had assigned and scheduled, and I wanted to sit back and enjoy watching these great kids pour out their love on those people. Our students spread out to pray for people. That’s when it happened.

It began with an indescribable impression that would not go away. So I prayed, not knowing exactly for what, and then the words formed in my mind, “Juan Carlos’ mother.” Ok, I thought, that is strange. I let it be and continued praying and singing. But the words would not go away.

“Juan Carlos’ mother.”

So I left my secure little seat. I pushed my way through the praying crowd. I found Jose our translator. I asked him to ask the pastor if there was someone in the church named Juan Carlos. He did. There was. I asked him to ask the pastor if Juan Carlos’ mother was sick. He did. She was.

Weird right? Yes. That is strange. That is the kind of thing that happens when you don’t limit your expectations about God, and the possibilities of what He can and will do. None of this happened because of any kind of good quality of mine. I’ll be the first to tell you that I was intensely nervous about walking up to a man I don’t know at all, and had never met before, to ask about a man and his mom that a voice in my head told me about. But I did, and it was weird, and it was right.

So what happened next? I got on stage, told the church about what happened, and we prayed for Juan Carlos and his mother. I hope you’ll join me in praying for them as well.


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