June 2002

Dear Friends,

Ministry in Mikundi

June began with a delightful overnight with friends at Mucombeze Mission and Farm, a one-hour-drive from Chimoio. Next morning Diane and I were guest preachers there. Four bush churches had come together for a joint worship service in the schoolhouse where our son Micah and his fiancee Desiré were teaching. It was beautiful to see one woman in particular dancing before the Lord. She had been a local witch doctor, but had been set free by surrendering to the Lord, and had brought many others to the Lord.

Then next evening Diane came down with terrible chills alternating with fever, was not able to eat, and next day took fansidar to treat malaria. But she grew weak and became sicker than she has ever been. Friday Micah and Des returned from their term of teaching, and together we persuaded Diane to go see Dr. Wright in Mutare, Zimbabwe. (We don't trust the local clinic.) We put a fold-up mattress, some pillows and blankets in the Land Rover for the 65-mile ride. After three days of tests, Diane was given the proper malarial medicine. She was diagnosed with a gall bladder infection and advised to go to South Africa for further tests, as the medical equipment in Zimbabwe was admittedly obsolete. We returned home, and finally on the ninth day of illness Diane began to eat solid foods and was on the up-and-up. She insisted that we (Micah, Des, and I) not break our ministry engagement to the bush church in the Milange District of Zambezia Province. She completed her illustrated booklet, an overview of the Bible with words in Chechewa, instructing us to make copies and hand out as gifts. Meanwhile, our Brit missionary neighbor, a nurse, would look after her, and Diane would make plans to fly to Johannesburg, South Africa, for the medical tests. Her trip the following week was to reveal the good news that her gall bladder scanned fine, and the apparent infection was a complication from having had her spleen removed
many years ago.

We arrived on the second day of travel to Milange, Mozambique, and met with the pastor. Next day, Friday, June 7, we departed via Rover for the Igreja Presbiteriana de Mikundi, joined by the pastor, an elder, and the young translator and three members of the New Vision Choir, which God raised up in answer to prayer. The bush trails paralleled the Rio Chire, which is the border with Malawi. I stopped to use the video camera along the way, including shots of a "ghost town" where buildings were bombed during the
1986 invasion by rebels. Toward the last part of the 41-mile, three-hour drive, Rover descended like a tank in the lowest gear of low range, along a mountain into a beautiful valley.

We were given a happy welcome with dancing and song. A thatched "kitchini" had been built for the occasion, as well as a shower and toilet. After we unpacked, got tents up and made camp, the pastor suggested that we unwind and simply have an afternoon of fellowship. More than 30 children congregated to watch us strange people with light skin. Des had a good time handing out balloons and blowing them up, then "letting them fly," laughing with the kids. Then she taught them to play tag, and it seemed like the adults
had as much fun watching. I was told we were the first white persons (and Americans) to visit the community. The church building was built about five years ago, after the return from the refuge of Malawi at the end of the civil war.

Next day I led five hours of sessions, preaching and teaching, while the New Vision Choir led in praise and taught new songs. And nobody seemed bored! We had "roped in" the kids, who continued to stare at us in curiosity as though we were aliens.

I'll digress a bit. A few weeks ago I brought home, in shoe boxes, stacks of honeycomb wrapped in clear plastic, golden slabs harvested from the Nyanga Mountains. I'd bought them from a lady on the street at the equivalent of 15 cents each. When my wife discovered them in the deep freeze, she asked questions. I told her the truth as best I could: "Remember, I was having dreams about extracting honey for a neighbor 25 years ago? Then I'd come home to the farm and milk cows, and man did the flies like me. Anyway, I thought of that when I saw this honeycomb for sale on the street. So I'll use it in Mikundi to help see that Jesus came to bring life, abundant, overflowing, and that's what going into the Land Flowing with milk and honey is all about. It's learning more and more about the joy of Jesus, and what He bought for us on the cross."

"Oh, whatever," Diane replied to the scrambled explanation of revelation, "but it looks like a lot of mess."

It was a lot of mess. Micah testified to that after handling the shoe boxes, finding out honey was seeping out somewhere, and was also on his pillow (which he switched with Dad before Dad entered the tent that night!). But the mess was well worth it. What an ice breaker for one thing.

Serving the honeycomb, followed by Micah and Dez with basins of water for washing (accompanied by what seemed to be low murmurings about stickiness), I prayed that each one taste and see that the Lord is good indeed. Honey is the purest food—Jesus is the purest joy. Honey is called the sweetest food—Jesus is the sweetest joy. And Jesus' joy will stick to your heart more than any pleasure on earth. Everybody was full of glee. I laid hands on people and ministered in the anointing, and invited a surrender to the greatest Joy of living—Jesus—and to share that joy and good news.

The New Vision Choir sang in Chechewa the new songs of Diane and me. Mine was the outline of the afternoon session:

New—Zatsodano
Sweet—Zokoma
Milk and honey tabernacle music—Mkaka ndi uchi nyimbo za mkachisi
flowing—kuyerela

The theme was the joy that we have as we keep the revelation of the glorious church stirred up in our hearts as we enter into the Promised Land (the Christian Life). The tragedy of God's people after leaving Egypt was that in the wilderness they forgot where they were headed, the Promised Land. They refused to repent and they let their hearts grow bitter. They forgot to let the new sweet milk and honey music flow through the tabernacle of the heart. Don't forget to stir up the revelation of Christ. "For all the promises of God in Him are Yes, and in Him Amen, to the glory of God through us" (2 C.1:20).

Joy prevailed throughout the day and night, when we had a Psalm 134 service, when the pastor was as happy as I've seen him. The Lord showed me a young man to claim as an evangelist. We danced and praised and prayed until the candles burned out.

I was tired that night. But people seemed to be waking up awfully early on Sunday morning. From inside the pitch black of the tent, I heard waves of laughter from inside the church building where the other guys were supposedly sleeping. It wasn't stupid-sounding laughter. There was what you might call—it may sound redundant—joy to it. By the time I found the flashlight and checked my wristwatch, I was pretty wide awake and happy at the sound myself. I decided that if I couldn’t lick ‘em I could join 'em. So at 4:00 a.m. I entered the sanctuary with my little propane stove and began to make a breakfast with what I had left of potatoes, hot peppers, onions, and mince sauce, which I shared with the elders. There was that anointing of the joy in Jesus which had not diminished when the candles burned out the night before.

During the Sunday morning service, the pastor invited me to baptize 11 precious people. One man in his 20s with a simple smile came forward and dropped to his knees. He had walked barefoot from Malawi and waded across the river nearly a mile away. I'm sure he gave no thought to the give-away T-shirt he had on. For me it was a bit jarring to see the Hustler magazine advertisement and a partially-nude woman, but he was innocent.

Moses Luke, a 20-year-old with a calling as an evangelist, and member of the New Vision Choir, read my sermon scripture text. Then for more than an hour the pastor and others from near and far gave speeches. One was by the eldest of the elders, a dear white-haired man gone blind, the pioneer who established the church. He was pleased because no pastor had visited for so long, and there were the many baptisms to consider, and Holy Communion (which would be served at the close of the service). Then others came forward to confirm their vows of baptism. Various choirs from the area—some came 15-20 miles (on foot!)—sang. By the time I was to preach, I suspected nobody remembered my sermon text—it was even difficult for me to remember! So I preached a different sermon from Romans 6 on our baptism, praying that the young translator would be able to follow it.

t was important to promptly return to Chimoio, in light of my wife's situation. That afternoon on the drive to Milange, the pastor and I discussed things. I would like to return and stay a while in the church, in a tent, doing ministry, then move to another church, say the new Simbe church, then move to another church, staying a minimum of two weeks in the area. This is the next phase to consider after we return from visiting the U.S. in August and September. By then the pastor should have his much-needed motorbike for the circuit of the many Presbyterian churches. How there needs to be raised up many more shepherds!

Concerning our family, each person is a bit of a different story

Micah, 19, came to visit us three months ago with his fiancee Desire. We have been helping them somewhat to shape their future. They have visited the prison three times with a prison ministry here, for which they raised $1500 for blankets for the 900 inmates of the local prison. They taught two weeks at the Mucombeze bush school and joined me in a trip of bush ministry. We will join up with him when we visit the States in August and September. During that time, through the generous support of the PC(USA), both Micah and Jonah will be attending the "Transitions Seminar" in New York for teens who have lived in Third World countries and are returning to the U.S.

Jonah, 17, loves Africa, especially Mozambique, and in terms of practical skills thoroughly enjoys working in all phases of agriculture at Watershed Agricultural Centre in Zimbabwe. He talks a lot about how he wants to graduate from school, then farm in Mozambique.

Anna Lena, 13, enjoys Hillcrest Boarding School in Mutare, Zimbabwe, and does very well academically, especially in Portuguese. Of all members of the family, she is the most homesick for America, and misses her old school friends a lot. The return visit to the States should be good for her.

Isaiah, 8, excels in everything, from school to swimming to checkers. Last year he skipped a grade. He is an avid reader. We are especially glad for the cure of the kidney nephosis, and that he will soon complete the final treatment for it.

As to malaria, Jonah has had it once, Isaiah and Diane twice, Anna thrice, while Charles has not yet had it (claiming it's because of taking garlic pills daily).

We look forward to the upcoming visit to the U.S. Our appointment is extended to five years with provision for a mid-term home visit for family visits and medical checkups. It will be great to see our mothers, both of whom were widowed since our appointment. Charles' Dad passed away right before orientation in 2000, so we were all able to attend the funeral. And in New York for the first time as a family we will visit Diane's Dad's final resting place in the columbarium at Rye Presbyterian Church.

When we return to Africa, we intend to spend more time on language training (our Portuguese is not up to par). And we look forward to more hands-on evangelism, to encourage the churches of IPM to boldly proclaim the good news to their neighbors.

Charles Wonnenberg

The 2002 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 43