We hadn't expected to stay the night in Wedza on this first day. Instead, we planned to return in a few days with the tent and make that our base of operations for the next week. Now, it was too late to make the 90 minute drive over dirt roads back to Lushington, the farm owned by Dave and Jen Hess.
We were exhausted, but where would we sleep? Fortunately, the school principal came to our aid, offering for us to stay in a small caravan parked next to his house. Felix found a place to sleep in the back room of a Matsine shop. Not only did we wake up refreshed the next morning, but the principal also made sure there was a large breakfast of eggs, toast and fruit for us. In all the excitement, we hadn't had dinner the night before!
Our first task upon returning would be to set up the big tent and make that our home. After singing for and then speaking to several hundred students at Matsine school, we headed back to Lushington. The following day we were back in Harare picking up the tent and some volunteers from the Salisbury Evangelical Bible School to help us erect it.
While in Harare we visited friends, produced our monthly newsletter on a borrowed computer and booked reservations for a trip back to the States in November. We also made arrangements to travel to Kariba for a week of rest after the Wedza tent meetings. We had been going at it night and day since relocating to Wedza and just needed to get away from it all for a week. We would have the use of a cottage that belonged to a Zimbabwean Jew with whom we had become friendly. He, too, claimed to be a Jewish believer in Jesus.
We met only one other person of Jewish background while in Zimbabwe from 1983-87. He was a black Zimbabwean journalist from Wedza and also a follower of Jesus. He told us that he had grown up in a rural African Jewish community that traced its lineage to King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. When he went to university, he had become a Christian. Although both he and our car dealer friend were both members of churches, they still strongly identified with their Jewishness.
For me, the more I saw of Christianity, the more I began to think about my Jewish heritage. But, at this time, the embers of Jewishness glowed faintly. I was still two years away from experiencing the re-ignition that would change everything--the birth of Abigail.
The following Wednesday found us at Matsine for what was to be a series of nightly evangelistic meetings followed by daytime teaching sessions. All of this was to culminate with a Sunday afternoon service that we hoped would result in the founding of a local church there. The plan all along had been for Felix to be the pastor of this new congregation.
That evening the tent was up, the Youth Brigade had shown up to help us manage the crowds. I had been concerned that they might be violent, but they were extremely respectful of the people and us. I don't think we could have managed without them. We did our normal routine. Pegi and I sang and led choruses in English and Shona. Then Felix led some more singing with us accompanying him. We showed the Osborn film and Felix spoke to the crowds in Shona afterward. As usual, there was a sea of hands raised signifying those who had "accepted Jesus as Savior." We estimated that of the 800-1000 who packed themselves into the tent, that about 200 might represent new converts. However, by this time we had realized that people were saying that they had "accepted Jesus" for the "first time" pretty much anytime there was an opportunity.
The following nights were identical with people coming from as far 25 miles, some by foot. The daytime hours were a constant stream of people seeking prayer for personal needs, healing, demon possession and all of those things that had been under the purview of the nhanga, the traditional healer. To me, it seemed as if we had become the new nhangas. I was not convinced that this was any type of faith in the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. People did not seem to be interested in learning about God. Instead, they were accepting Jesus and our preaching simply for traditional needs. When we offered a Bible lesson instead of putting on a show followed by healing, our attendance dropped from hundreds to less than a dozen.
Saturday night would be the last evangelistic meeting before we attempted our first worship service on Sunday afternoon. It was at this point that Felix literally abandoned us! He got on a bus and went back to Harare. He was no longer interested in taking the responsibility to lead the new congregation, even on a sporadic basis. He wouldn't even be there that evening to speak, sing or interpret. For almost a year we had been partners in ministry. The whole idea for coming to Matsine was because it was close to Felix's childhood home. Now, with a feeble excuse, he was gone.
That meant that it fell to me to be the speaker that evening with Norman Kalilombe interpreting. Our singing got the best response ever and I decided to "teach" about faith in God rather than showing the same film again. That also meant that there would be no "miracle ministry" at the end, because that just wasn't me! I wasn't going to be their nhanga. And, rather than whipping them into a frenzy and getting them to pray out loud to "accept Jesus" for the second, third or fourth time, I asked them to spend a few minutes quietly talking with God for themselves. I wanted them to at least understand that they could pray for themselves since the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob would listen to them as they spoke. They wouldn't need a nhanga any longer.
On Sunday, Pegi drove Norman to one of the five farms near Lushington where he was serving as pastor. I spent the morning reading my Bible and preparing to teach in the afternoon service. Of course, now we had no leadership for this new church because of Felix's desertion. We would just have to see who showed up and then draw on some other young ministers to help us.
As I sat alone inside of the tent, a gray government truck pulled up. Four or five African men in their twenties disembarked and asked a 14 year old boy who was "in charge" here. He pointed me out and I introduced myself. I sensed trouble, but was confident that we had all the "permissions" necessary.
The leader of this group smiled without introducing himself or his title. It was obvious that he had some sort official capacity since he was driving a government vehicle. He could have been police, ZANU-PF, Ministry of Information or one of a number of official and often officious authorities. He asked about our meetings and I gave him the history of the last week not forgetting to drop the names of all the officials who had authorized us.
He seemed uninterested in all of that saying, "I am here to invite you to a meeting of ZANU-PF just up the road near the Matsine shops." Trying to ignore his threatening tone, I replied, "Oh, thank you so much for inviting me, but I am afraid I have to decline. I have a service here in about an hour and cannot leave right now."
That didn't work! He looked at me sternly saying again that I was "invited" to the meeting of the local ZANU-PF Communist Party.
I declined again adding that I was responsible for the tent and equipment. With an authority that I had encountered with Immigration officials, he replied gravely:
But you have been invited! This young man will watch over your equipment won't you young man? Now, you will come with us to the meeting to determine IF you will be allowed to have any services here.
I finally realized that I had been invited! I climbed into his truck and rode up the road to Matsine.
Next: "All politics is local!"
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