–by Mommy Emily
The Forgotten Villages lie beyond Lil’ Scary River, a long-winding path of water through Sierra Leone’s remotest bush, where crocodiles lie in wait as you ease past, kneeling in a canoe hewn out of a tree. Little boys, barefoot, silent, guide these boats each way, hoping for a tip yet grateful even for a soft “Tenk ye” spoken in Krio.
Pastor Sonnel Kamara, our partner in Sierra Leone for the past four years, navigates these waters frequently, bringing the gospel to people his government has long forgotten. He somehow balances a motorcycle, projector, tv, and the Jesus film in the narrow, rough-hewn canoe, crossing the river barrier to enter the shadows of villages taken captive by demonic spirits. So convinced by the witch doctors who prey on the vulnerable, these villagers will even kill a mother whose baby is stillborn, believing the mother to be bewitched. The trees are haunted by spirits, they say, and so is the river.
Yet the villagers brighten when they see this man of God, for he always comes bearing hope. The hope of Jesus Himself. “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” (Isaiah 43:2)
He also comes bearing insecticides to wipe out bed bugs that ravage these precious ones in the dark. He comes bearing building materials for churches, making countless trips in the canoe to carry concrete and supplies. He comes bearing the Truth of God’s Word. The government may not remember these people, but the Spirit of Christ does, and He’s extending His nail-scarred hands — wrapping each of His forgotten children in His welcoming embrace.
This February Sonnel visited eight new forgotten villages, preaching revival. Droves of villagers emerged from the darkness to hear him preach. With no electricity, no generators, no stores to buy candles or lanterns, they came desperate for the Light of the World, for the
darkness “has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)
He was chased by honeybees from one village. In another, he delivered a powerful sermon on the end times with so much fervor, his dentures fell out. When he told us the story, he said, “It was an embarrassment, though not much, because I was preaching the heart of the
greatest King who ever lived!”
He said he had never preached with so much passion and power — that he felt like he was waking up a sleeping church.
Oh friends, we need the same wake-up call! We’re like the church in Laodicea. We need to hear Jesus’ words, “For you say, ‘I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing,’ not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.” (Revelation 3:17)
We’ve been taken captive by materialism, greed, apathy, and arrogance — a darkness as oppressive as any other. Maybe we need to become poor to realize how much we need Him — poor in spirit, impoverished of all self-reliance, deeply aware of our emptiness. Let’s hear the cries of the greatest King who ever lived! Let’s wake up! Let’s be desperate for the Light that overcomes the darkness. Lord, deliver us we pray.
We’re fasting for awareness of our emptiness as a Lulu team — fasting for 40 days of Lent, praying for the faith of Abraham to fill us, the same faith that “against all hope, … believed” (Romans 4:18). It’s a faith that takes into account “the barrenness of Sarah’s womb” — the oppressive realities of the world and the helplessness of mere humans to change them — and yet we do not weaken in our faith, but like Father Abraham, are strengthened and give glory to God, being fully persuaded that He who gave us great and magnificent promises is faithful!
And so, as a ministry, we’re believing God to help us cross boundaries as intimidating as Lil’ Scary River — to navigate a global pandemic and government restrictions, and to steer our rough-hewn canoe into countries like Kenya and Guinea, perhaps as early as this spring. Our African partners are eager to go in faith, to find other pastors who, like themselves, are shepherds sent to bring in the lost sheep — the people who may have been “forgotten” by their governments, but who have never been far from the heart of God.
Will you pray with us? Jesus told the Laodicean church, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” As we fast from what can’t satisfy, may we open the door to Jesus, and may we awaken to all the wonders of faith that await.
