Redemptive Ramblings

I spent most of this month in southern Africa, one of my favorite places in the world. We spent time in Zambia and South Africa, but I really want to focus on the first week of our trip, the part in rural Zambia. One thing that is hard to wrap your head around until you go is how very hard it is to get there, how long it takes, and how determined you must be to reach your destination. 

We left on Sunday and travelled every day to reach our destination on Thursday. First, large planes carried us across the Atlantic and the Equator, down the full length of the African continent. We landed in Johannesburg, South Africa, on Monday evening. Tuesday morning, we boarded a smaller plane for Livingstone, Zambia. There, we picked up 4-wheel drive trucks with rooftop tents for the next stage of the journey, an 8-hour drive to the town of Mongu in the Western Province. On Wednesday, we left at dawn on the roughest road I’ve ever seen, dodging oxcarts, pedestrians, bicycles laden with people and produce, and potholes that could swallow the entire truck. On Shesheke Road, there are no lanes, and often the best path is the one in the dirt beside the road. By late afternoon, covered in dust and bruised from the bumping, we arrived at the Zambia project base and met the local team that would be going out to the bush with us in the morning. We refueled the trucks, although it took four tries to find a fuel pump that wasn’t out of diesel. Thursday morning, we headed back out, turning off the road after about an hour to drive the tracks in the deep sand for several hours before reaching the village of Mundimunene, where our campsite had been prepared. 

Why do I tell you all this? Because these people had never heard the Gospel. As hard as it is to believe in our world of instant connectivity and information at our fingertips, this was a truly unreached village. It was hard to get to. It was remote. We slept in tents, cooked on fires, and pooped in a long drop while we were there. And there was something about it that felt holy. The struggle of being there brought home the weight of the eternity of each soul we would interact with. 

The people of Mundimunene were beautiful. They dug toilets for us. They cleared trees. They welcomed us, strangers from far away, to their village. Beautiful souls. And oppressed. Oppressed by witchcraft and demonic activity. By physical pain with a spiritual root. By the prince of this world. 

While we were there, we didn’t just speak. We listened. Listened as they told their stories. The school shut down when the teachers fled from the demonic activity. The headaches that the witch doctor’s charms couldn’t take away. Stories of people who needed to hear the Good News.

And in that place, I saw a whole different set of weapons that Satan employs. We are so used to seeing him sneak his way in. On our screens, disguised as entertainment. In our political discourse, distracting from things that really matter. But not overtly. He never calls his own name out in our culture. He uses soft words, seeking to appear as an angel of light (2 Cor. 11:14). But there in Mundimunene and the surrounding areas, he shouts. He has no problem with being seen. And in both places, the result is the same: brokenness and bondage. 

You see, in the fight for the human soul, Satan uses many tactics. He charms and threatens, distracts and assaults, sneaks and swaggers. And God’s response to every tactic is the same.

Incarnation.

Jesus didn’t send someone else. He came for us. And now He comes through us. The Body of Christ incarnates the presence of Jesus everywhere that we go. And for the past 2,000 years, incarnation has been God’s weapon in the fight for each soul. He goes through us to our world. To the homeless, the orphan, the addict, the hopeless. He goes through us to a village that takes 5 days to get to so that He can contend with Satan for each soul. 

And there is nothing in our lives that matters more. Being a part of the fight for one soul is the most important thing we will ever do. Today I challenge you: you may not be in a remote village, but you are surrounded by people who need incarnation. Be Jesus to your family, your coworkers, the cashier at the store, and the waitress at the restaurant. Be Jesus to a foster child, a neighbor, a family in need. The fight for one human soul, the incarnation of Christ through us to those around us, is the most valuable way to spend your life.