In The Shadow of El Shaddai

The medical clinic was set up in a sheltered open-sided building and we conducted services from daylight to past dusk.  Candles were lit when the natural light faded. Several hundred people passed through the medical clinic – 98-99% of them really sick. Many of the older and some of the middle aged women had numbers tattooed on their inside forearms.  We were curious why.  The women told us that during the occupation of East Timor by the Japanese during WWII, they were marked as sex slaves.  The numbers told whom they belonged to and the village they were from.

At this camp, we gave away thousands of pills, syrups & salves – Chloroquine (for malaria), Paracetamol (for fever & pain), Pyrantel (for intestinal worms), Dermazole (for skin infections and funguses), and liquid ointments for “pink eye”. Babies were too sick to even whimper.  They hung like tiny dirty porcelain dolls in their mother’s arms --breakable. Mothers were without milk for feeding their baby.  Men were painfully forlorn.   All were in various stages of malaria, malnourishment and emotionally enshrouded. 

Corruption overran this camp.  Government workers placed in charge of helping the refugees became their hindrance by stealing their governmental allotments for food – a meager pittance of rupiahs equaling maybe 25 cents US currency a day. It took 8 days allotment to purchase one kilo (2.2 pounds) of nasi (rice). But the people were not receiving their full financial aide and one kilo of nasi evaporated in the masses of mouths to feed per person per day per family! 

The clinic finished late and we went directly into prayer time with team members for the KKR was to follow.  That was when I broke down.  That was when the events, sights and sounds of the past 2 days ministering among the refugees crashed upon me. 

I kept thinking: If only we could do more--If only we had milk to give the mothers for those tiny, dying babies--If only--If only! There must be something more!  Weeping uncontrollably for a time, I regained composure when I felt the Spirit of the Lord’s presence upon me. He gave me strength as team members prayed for and comforted me. 

I could feel the surge of energy flowing through our circle of prayer.  I learned later that about 250 refugees had received salvation during the counseling time; and about that many more came to Christ during the KKR – hallelujah!

The Lord turned my mourning into dancing.  I kept hearing that He would teach me in the way I should go as He prompted a thought and planted a seed:  Buy some powdered milk and plan to give it away. I would learn of His plan for the miraculous later. 

Camp #3 didn’t have any facility for providing shade or space for medical clinic, so we set up under trees.  Thankfully, the treatment of the people was much improved though sicknesses still prevailed.  Clinic had to be curtailed and the KKR cancelled due to rain. The medical team meaning Rayma & I, returned to Camplong so we would be there for the regular Friday medical clinic at SOW village.  The men remained for KKR #4. 

Agitators arrived. They threw rocks at the team and tampered with wires for the sound and lighting systems.  Local police and soldiers came with reports of the commotion.  Once seeing the evidence, they became part of the team’s protection for the night.  As a result of what was intended for evil, God used to stir up hearts to hear His message of truth. Not hundreds, but thousands accepted Jesus that night. Glory to God!

When the team returned to the camp where the KKR was cancelled, the people mobbed the truck when it entered the grounds.  The people thought we had totally dismissed them.  Again, same procedure for the KKR -- same results.  It was God’s clockwork for restoring souls to Himself! 

When the Crusades ended, special people were gathered from all the KKR’s combined.  These were men & women whose hearts God Himself had set on fire to be discipled and to disciple others.  They were the ones to attend the Discipleship Training School for the final 3 days of ministry.  The cream of the crowd surfaced for the training.  It was a complete success.

Even though apart as we were physically, Anthony & I were one in spirit and mind. In the mid morning hours of the night after I had returned to Camplong, I suddenly sat up in bed hearing: “Pray for Anthony!”  I bolted in the bed.

What?  What’s wrong?  Is Anthony ok? -- I went on & on asking God questions.

Pray! the urging voice repeated.  I prayed and prayed in the Spirit for I had no idea what to pray for!  There’s nothing so unsettling as to know something’s happening and not know what it is!  I prayed until that peace passing all understanding restored my composure and I could return to sleep. 

By the time Anthony returned to Camplong, that eerie p