Brooks
The time seemed perfect. It was relatively calm at our house, so I thought, “Just go for it.” I found Roger and said, “In a year and half I’m going to be 60 years old, so I want something really, really big for my birthday!” Now, you have to understand, I don’t usually ask for something big, but this time, I figured reaching the age of 60 warranted asking for something really big--as in expensive! Now Roger is a very approachable guy and would give me just about anything I wanted, but I still thought I should give him some time to get used to the idea of spending some real money. But, after blurting this out, all he did was stare at me with his mouth open, and didn’t say a word, just stared. Confused and a little ticked off, I asked, “So, what’s wrong?” That’s when he gasped for air, took a deep breath and then started to breathe again. He said, “You’re going to be sixty? I’m going to be married to someone sixty years old? (He’s five years younger, and this suddenly seemed to become real to him!)
So, what I asked for changed umpteen times since then and neither of us knew that God had the most incredibly big birthday planned for me ever—something I definitely wanted, but could never have imagined or asked for! As it turned out, we had committed to be at the YWAM School of Church Planters in Madagascar in 2009 and by the time all the scheduling was finally in place, that’s where we were on my 60th birthday. Madagascar, Africa! After arriving, we got the schedule for our two weeks there and as it happened, on Sunday, October 4, my actual birthday, we were scheduled to go upriver, deep into the bush, to a new church plant to help baptize a group of new believers there!
Sunday morning arrived and 7 a.m. we all loaded up in a pickup: Victor (the base director), Theo (our translator), another church planter, two doctors, Roger and myself, and we were pulling “Mercy” (appropriately named), a fiberglass raft boat with an outboard motor. We traveled for about an hour from one end of the city to the other, passing many people busily setting up their shops or roadside stands to get ready for the day. Soon we were out in the green countryside where shepherds walking alongside their two or three zebu (cows) are common and fields of rice are growing. The once paved road quickly became only a narrow, dirt bumpy pathway and every once in awhile we would happen on a grouping of thatched, bamboo-sided houses, which I later realized were actually whole villages. The others chattered away in French or Malagasy, easily shifting from one language to the other and every once in awhile Theo or Victor would speak to us in English and let us know what the others were talking about.
Suddenly we stopped at what looked like nothing more than a wide-space in the road, and the doctor driving the rig began to pull in and back up and there to the right through the brush was a river. Not just a river, but a river with women leaning over washing their clothes, beating them on a huge big rock and then rinsing them diligently back in the river again before laying the clothes out to dry on the bushes nearby. Other women and girls grabbed handfuls of sand at the water’s edge and standing, scrubbed the edges of their blackened pots with their feet, not even for a moment deterred from their tasks by us. Meanwhile the guys got the raft in the river and we all piled in, along with a huge bundle of mosquito nets to be given away, painting supplies, including a six foot ladder and all of us. And off we went – motoring up the river. Every so often we would pass by hollowed-out tree canoes that some of the bushmen were using to haul either charcoal or wood down the river to sell in Tamatave, the town we had just come from. Along the banks, we would sometimes pass a mom bathing her small children or see a colorfully dressed woman gracefully balancing a large rubber tub, filled with pots on her head as she made her way down to the river.
After about a half hour we turned into one of many tree-lined alcoves where I could see nothing, but then all of the sudden there appeared a young woman walking barefoot down a trail out of the trees. She was actually coming from a village close by where YWAM had established a medical clinic. The two doctors were stopping here for the day to repaint the clinic, so as they waded into shore with all their gear and sat on the beach. We all waved good-bye and laughingly said, “We’ll come back for you in a few years.” It actually seemed like it could be a very real possibility to me at that point!
After picking up the young woman I had just seen, we pressed on for the real haul. Victor upped the motor and we crossed a wide part in the river where we and just about everything in the boat got soaked, but in the heat, it was a welcome relief! As the river began to narrow once again, we saw them. One, two, and then many children of all ages were running along the bank. Women and men started walking down a pathway to the little beach by the river to welcome us. Pretty soon there was a crowd encircling us as we waded into shore. With big grins, they shyly shook our hands and were obviously very happy to see us.
Even though the sun was scorching, it didn’t matter. Victor in his great humility asked the leader of the group how he would like to proceed and the day unfolded as each moment became more spectacular than the one before. As we all gathered on the beach by the river the leader asked Victor to speak first and then to begin the baptism. I couldn’t help but think as he spoke, “I could be listening to John the Baptist or Jesus speaking by the Sea of Galilee. It’s just the same.” Some were sitting on rocks, some sitting on the hillside nursing their babies, some standing upfront listening closely, some standing further back not wanting to appear too interested. And yet, when the question came, who is here to be baptized today, 10 who had anxiously waited for this moment ran to the bank of the river.
Afterwards we were all invited to their gathering place, where each of the ten shared their testimony: what their life had been like before meeting Jesus, what happened when they met Him and what their life is like now. We heard story after story testifying to the goodness of God: stories about marriages ravaged by adultery that had been restored; women who were being eaten alive by jealousy and bitterness who were now content and at peace; and the freedom others were experiencing from the fears of superstition and witchcraft. Even they themselves couldn’t believe it, though they had become Believers months and months ago.
Roger and I had an opportunity to share and then the real party began. By now it was around 2:30. The elders of the church apologized that no one had time to cook as everyone wanted to be at the “program” today, so the cooking would now begin. We knew this meant for us to really settle in and make ourselves at home, because cooking did not mean open a packet of top ramen and throw it in the microwave! So, the wood fire was lit outside and the water was hauled from the river and poured into large pots to begin cooking the rice.
After about an hour and a half some women came in with some woven mats and laid them on the dirt floor. I was fascinated as next they brought in bundles of freshly picked huge banana leaves and laid them on top of the mats. I couldn’t believe how shiny, green and clean they were. And, then with proud grins the men began to carry in the huge pots of rice which they poured down on top of the banana leaves, spreading it out in gigantic mounds. I couldn’t imagine how or what this was about, but soon learned this is such a familial way of eating! We all sat down on the floor, encircling the rice, women, children, men. There were small bowls of a soup mixture with sliced and cubed palm hearts in it sitting at the edge of the rice and everyone had their own spoon…ok, some of us, muzungas (white people)…bush people make their own, out of leaves, of course! I quickly learned that you dip your spoon into a bowl, any bowl, and pour some of the liquid onto some of the shared rice in the middle and then scoop up that portion and eat it. Got to tell you, I love eating this way! I felt very connected to the whole group, could see everyone, hear everyone, and of course, definitely we were sharing our meal together….I mean really sharing our meal!! And, no need to tell you, clean up was pretty easy, too!
After lunch, the elders wanted to have Communion, sharing the Lord’s Supper. So, the banana leaves were cleared off, the mats shaken and laid back down and in the middle was set a liter of “Coca”(Coca-Cola) and a small cellophane bag of crackers. One of the elders explained that they had started doing communion differently by serving something special instead of the usual rice water. After a few words and scriptures, Betalata the YWAM planter of this church, poured the coke in a glass and put the crackers on a small plate. Then, one by one he offered the crackers and the glass of coke to each adult in the gathering—about 50 of us.
Victor then stood up to speak (in Malagasy). As I glanced over the group, I noticed a man sitting off to the side listening intently to every word spoken. I asked Victor, “Have you asked if there is anyone here today who would like to know Jesus as their Savior?” He told me, “No, but I will.” So, after speaking for a short while, he did ask and this very same man instantly raised his hand. Victor asked him to pray to God, to confess whatever things in his life separated him from God and what he wanted from God. Without hesitation, Alfonso, prayed loudly in front of all of his friends announcing that he wanted and needed God in his life, that his way of life wasn’t working and that he wanted what these other ten people had testified to.
Victor then talked about the Ethiopian eunuch who was told about Jesus, received him as Savior and wanted to be baptized right away. He asked Alfonso, “Do you want to be baptized today?” Alfonso quickly replied, “Yes!”
So, all of us—50 adults and probably as many children—all got up, walked through the village once again, down the path back to the river from where we had come hours ago to baptize yet one more that day. We all rejoiced as Alfonso celebrated his spiritual birthday! Roger and I rejoiced because we knew God had given me the biggest 60th birthday celebration ever!
There were handshakes and kisses--both cheeks and then a third back again, Malagasy style--all around and then we waded back out and climbed into the raft. The motor was loud and the wind intense as we shot across the waves, bouncing every inch of the way, getting drenched and chilled, as evening quickly approached. But, my heart was full as I reflected on all that had happened in just one day. Men and women had made a decision that would change their lives forever. They had chosen to be baptized as an expression of that decision and then testified to all of their friends about their new life. It was a day of celebration. Men and women way up river, deep in the bush of Madagascar, had not only heard, but had received the Good News.
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