It’s unnerving getting interrupted when giving a public talk – more-so when demons are involved.
Through our Kenya and Tanzania years I grew thankful for the wisdom and courage of African servants of Jesus. Many challenged me in positive ways – not so much by direct words, but by life-example – in things like discernment and spiritual authority.
Scenario: How do you counsel the second wife of an unbelieving polygamous husband who has come to faith in Christ?
Such tricky problems, I discovered, don’t get easily fixed through pat answers by well-meaning outsiders. Put another way, simple solutions do not fare well in the world of the complex. Cultural divides compound things. Reconciling family traditions to the Way of Jesus demands patience, grace and wisdom. What a relief discovering I served among church leaders who – though some lacked greatly in overall Bible knowledge – understood how to rightly address baffling questions that I and my fellow expats were, frankly, clueless about.
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“There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.” (as usual, few people can distill a truth better than C.S. Lewis)
What’s with all the screaming?
The lake region was a magnet to demons, or so it appeared. Generations of witchcraft practice seemed to fling regional doors open to dark displays of the invisible underworld.
Taking my place behind a simple wooden pulpit I rested my Bible there and surveyed the gathering. A light lake breeze made its way inland now and then to blunt the oppressive mid-day heat. It was District Convention time and congregations from the area had set up makeshift shelters of straw to shield from the sun’s brutal rays. Three days of teaching, of celebrating, of praying and of feasting were getting underway.
I had barely begun my message when a clearly troubled woman rose in the audience. Her first cries were soft but quickly became louder. A rhythmic chant followed, growing more shrill, more distressing by the moment. Soon she seemed out of control. . . or under the control of some alien influence.
Without my uttering a word or signaling for any help, two tribal gentlemen moved quickly to the woman’s side. Addressing her in moderate but deliberate tones, the men succeeded in relocating her to a space a short distance from our gathering. I learned later on that these intervening men had experience in exorcising bad spirits from the demonically-troubled.
My audience seemed unrattled by the interruption and I resumed preaching. Several minutes of my early remarks from scripture were only slightly muffled by shouts from the deliverance quarters, “Come out of her. Out in Jesus’ Name!” All the while the poor woman’s unnatural voice ebbed and flowed with irregular volume. At last all went silent. Soon the freed lady re-entered the meeting and conducted herself in a perfectly civil manner.
Again I thanked God it was they – the wise and Spirit-equipped Africans – who answered the call to such crises, and to puzzlements “beyond our pay grade”. Gaining appreciation that useful missionaries. . . if they are anything. . . are observers. Learners.
Thank you, Lord. And help us.
©2018 Jerry Lout