ANNELORE’S 3rd KENYA EXPERIENCE 06/07page 1
Since the “Macedonian call”1 by the Kenyan Bishop Bera2 in 20043 the Lord has opened effective doors for me into Africa. The Bishop’s burden is for the unreached, hence ever since my first visit he has taken me into places where no white man or woman would go. I wondered why the Lord would have me go to such remote places where I would reach only a few and not many hundreds or thousands. Little did I realize that my willingness to go to these very remote and very poor places would be the very thing that would bring glory to the Lord and “fame” to me.
The news of a “white Jewish prophetess from the land where “Jesus was born,” visiting their villages, living with them in houses like theirs and eating their food spread like wildfire. While I was being faithful in the small things (it would seem the Lord likes to keep me that way for a very long time – since 1978) G-d gave the increase: People got saved, healed, prayers were answered and miracles happened.
Despite some formidable obstacles we had great victory by the grace and power of the Lord. One particular one was a tremendous breakthrough for the Gospel on a mountain of devil worshipers. A whole village, including elders and the leading woman, got saved4.
During my second visit in 2005 the Lord added favor, impact and outreach. But it eluded me how far the Lord had caused my reputation to spread, until Bishop Bera enlightened me: because of the Lord’s anointing and my willingness to go where others would not I have become known throughout Kenya, and even in Uganda, Tanzania and Zaire.
Pastors and Bishops from Mombasa to Malaba, from Nakuru to Nairobi and the other 3 nations mentioned above called upon Bishop Bera to have me come and minister to them and their congregations, discipling them. It would be my third mission trip to Kenya – and a time of trials and testing of my faith.
We suspect that the news of my coming reached also the devil worshipers on that particular mountain and that they tried to hinder, stop or even kill me through personal effects of mine or presents I had brought home.
We came to realize that we needed 24/7 prayer coverage to counter their witchcraft against me and my ministry.
You are welcome to share this amazing story with your friends and/or e-mail list. To G-D be all the glory! The Scripture, “Many are the troubles of the righteous but G-d delivers them out them all,” proved ever so true. The Presence, faithfulness and steadfast love of our Lord and the mighty power and anointing of the Holy Spirit shines through it all in many remarkable ways. To give honor where honor is due: my beloved friend and sister in the Lord, Phyllis Nataf, is my partner in writing this diary by editing what I have written, such as she has done with all of my writings. Her English is much better than mine. Hence, with our combined gifts – my writing and her editing – we seek to serve the Lord for His praise and glory. 1 Acts 16:9 2 “Bera” is the clan name; his christening name is Christopher Simiyu 3 see https://www.ortzion.org/images/praise_Kenya.html 4 see https://www.ortzion.org/images/praise_Kenya02.html; you may want to begin reading with the page in footnote 3.
The opposition began a few weeks before my departure to Kenya, scheduled at first for December 5th, 2006:
The first attack was on my voice when I awoke one night choking on liquid that had refluxed into my throat. After coughing for a full 15 minutes to clear my windpipe, my voice was gone.
The second was a fall from a ladder. It was as if someone had grabbed the shoe off my foot when I lost my balance. Twisting my body and knee I fell on the bed behind me and not on the floor. Nevertheless, I sustained a very painful knee.
Next, while walking our two dogs, a sudden, sharp jerk on the leash the very instant I had one foot off the ground caused me to tumble down the steps onto the stones of the sidewalk beneath. I twisted the ankle of my right foot, and landed on my right knee, side, elbow and hand. I was in great pain, crying out loud. But G-d is so very good and kind. He already had sent someone who would see me falling — a lady doctor who immediately came to “minister” first aid to me. How comforting it was to have my heavenly Father send this lady doctor just then, as I was bleeding and home alone with no one to help.
As a result of my ordeals, my right side and especially my right leg were very painful. Moreover, having recently had surgery on my left leg (vericose veins) I could not stand or walk for any length of time, and had to postpone my departure to the 16th according to the surgeon’s advice.
Immediately other obstacles appeared, as it was now impossible to rebook my seat on the flight from Addis Ababa to Nairobi. Since Christmas is a season of family reunions for many Ethiopians and Kenyans, flights between Addis Ababa and Nairobi are fully booked.
But supplication to the Lord prevailed and my travel agent managed to get me a seat. However, due to insufficient funds, my reservation was about to be cancelled. The Lord moved my travel agent (the manager of the agency) to pay for them herself until I could repay. Hardly had I rejoiced in thanksgiving when the next hurdle popped up: the airport in Kisumu – my destination from Nairobi – shut down. The runway was deemed unsafe and major repairs were required.
How would I now reach Kenya’s Western region, meeting with Bishop Bera?
I called my two pastor friends in Nairobi to see if my tickets with Kenya Airways could be transferred to East African Safari Express Airline who rerouted their flights to Eldoret town5. After numerous phone calls and and my friends’ visits to the offices of Kenya Airways and EAA, the transfer would be done upon my arrival in Nairobi.
My flight from Ben Gurion airport to Addis Ababa with Ethiopian Airlines passed without incident. However, upon our early morning arrival in Addis Ababa I and a good number of other passengers were forced to wait for 10 hours for the next flight to Nairobi, the morning flight having been greatly overbooked.
I was very tired, having prepared and cooked that weekend for 12 family members to celebrate the first day of Hanukkah together before leaving them for 3 weeks. I hadn’t slept for nearly 40 hours, and now needed to wait another 10, while my legs were constrained in very tight, special stockings since the surgery. I tried to sleep – unsuccessfully – on the hard metal benches set up throughout the airport mall.
Furthermore, I had only $ 9 cash on me as I had given our daughter the $ 140 friends sent to minister to our needs. Her need, being mother of 4, without a job and alone, was more urgent than mine. Hence, purchasing refreshments was out of the question. But – our beloved Lord came to my aid by sending 2 kind airport employees across my path who told me that I was entitled to certificates for free food and drink, due to our overbooked flight.
Upon arrival at Nairobi Kenyatta airport, my pastor friend Joseph Walubengo, was not there as promised. With luggage in hand, I searched up and down the hall looking for Joseph who was no where to be seen. We were supposed to go immediately to the office of Kenya Airways and EAA to verify the transfer of my tickets.
Feeling rather lost and increasingly unsettled, the Lord sent me another of His “angels” to help me – this time a taxi driver. Hetook me to a window where we called for Joseph 3 times, and then to the Kenya Airways and EAA offices, where I was told that for the day of my flight, Dec. 19th, Kisumu airport would be reopened.
I told the taxi driver that I probably would not need his taxi but he just smiled, said “Never mind,” and stayed at my side.
In view of the possibility that I might need to go to a hotel, I tried to withdraw money from an automatic teller, only to be told that my pin # was wrong. At the third and last teller I finally realized I had been typing in my Israeli credit card # instead of my Visa, due to my concern over Joseph not having shown up.
I already had waited for 1 ½ hour when other taxi drivers began to gather around us, noticing my distress. They offered to call Joseph on their cell phone but just his name, without his phone number, was written in my phone book, which I only found after much searching since it had slipped through a tear in the suitcase lid under my clothes in the suitcase.
Exhausted and in pain, I could no longer hold back my tears. My taxi driver “angels” (by now they were 2) tried calming me down. It worked, for the Lord succeeded in reminding me of my tiny little address book in my purse. There was the phone # of my contact person at the Israeli Embassy in Nairobi with whom I was in touch in relation to an agricultural/marketing project for my Kenyan friends in Webuye. He gave me Joseph’s phone #, my “angel” gave me his cell phone and I finally spoke to Joseph who said they were on their way but stuck in heavy traffic.
By that time the whole arrival hall knew about my dilemma.When Joseph finally turned up and I called his name out loud in exasperation and relief, everybody clapped, laughed and shouted for joy. I gave my taxi driver “angel” half of the fare it would have cost to the hotel. He certainly deserved it. Finally we left the airport, accompanied by loud well wishes from all the taxi drivers, airport security personnel and bystanders.
Such was only the beginning of my 3rd mission to Kenya. Never shall I forget it!
5 See map at https://www.ortzion.org/images/praise_Kenya03.html
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My young Pastor friends Joseph and Allen, drove us to their new home outside of Nairobi. Both claimed that G-d blessed them with this new home due to my coming as they had only just found it and had moved in the day before my arrival. Prior to that they had a cramped apartment in one of Nairobi’s bad neighborhoods unfit for me, they said.
After a very long and bumpy ride, we arrived. Their spacious home was a lovely surprise, fully furnished and boasting a garden, a garage, a shower and electricity. While Pastor Allen and his younger brother prepared our dinner, the Lord had me lovingly warn, exhort and teach Joseph who, enthralled by the Laodicean display of wealth and splendor of some American TV evangelists, desired to have a ministry like theirs. Eager and impressionable, he failed to recognize their superficiality and vanity. But blessed with a teachable spirit, he thanked me for ministering to him.
The next day we (and my luggage) set out for Nairobi, but miles of market traffic blocked the way. The intermingling of human and vehicle traffic was unimaginable. When we finally did arrive, it was too late for the meetings, which were to be a “breakfast” and a “lunch” service of 1 hour each. Many Christians in Nairobi come to church before going to work and during lunch break to hear the Word of G-d.
However, the Lord had a surprise in store, which was a meeting that proved meaningful for the agricultural/ marketing project He Himself had set into motion for my Kenyan friends in Webuye6. Thus, our time was well spent.
Following this meeting, my two young pastor friends, apprehensive of another traffic jam, drove me to the Jomo Kenyatta airport. With no traffic jam to impede us this time, we arrived in plenty of time, enough for me to relax with a coffee and browse through my teaching material that pastors and bishops had requested of me for discipling purposes.
At long last we were called up to board our flight to Kisumu with Kenya Airways. I sat in a single-row of seats, observing my fellow passengers and looking out the window with keen interest. During take-off I prayed Psalm 34:7, 121:3-8, and Isaiah 54:14 in personal application, as I always do when getting on the road or on a plane.
Suddenly I noticed something red near the right side propeller flapping in the wind.
(Right-click on image, click “view image” with FireFox, or “New tab” with Explorer, to enlarge)
Looking more closely, I saw a half-rounded metal part.
“Look! Look!” I called to the other passengers, whose eyes were either focused on newspapers or shut tight. “What is this red thing flying there?”
And immediately I answered the question myself: “Dear G-d! It is the cover of the propeller motor!” I exclaimed in utter shock.
Now we were all staring at this flapping, large red metal part, calling and gesticulating to the stewardess who seemed not to notice.
I contemplated the situation and weighed the options. Should that large metal cover break loose and get caught in one of the propeller blades, the propeller would instantly disintegrate and we would all go down; and should the metal cover break loose and fly backwards, it would hit part of the tail and we would all go down.
Just then the pilot announced that we had attained 15,000 feet, a thousand feet short of our expected climb to 16,000 feet cruising altitude on our flight to Kisumu.
6 See Annelore’s Report of 2nd Kenya Visit in December 2005
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The lady across the aisle from me and I began yelling, “We want to land safe and sound! Get us back to Kenyatta – ALIVE!!”
Suddenly a young man burst into loud laughter as if the situation was extremely funny, which caught the stewardess’ attention. At long last she noticed our frenzied pointing at the flapping metal cover and reported the matter to the pilot.
Happily, the pilot turned at once back to Kenyatta for repairs and we all applauded.
At the airport, staff stood ready to evacuate the plane. But this proved unnecessary as a regular technician, mounted on a ladder, merely screwed the cover firmly in place.
Relieved and safe we were on our way again – alas, arriving in Kisumu nearly 2 hours late.
“You know her?” I asked, surprised. He smiled.
“Yes, we have met. She is Kenya’s minister of health. Ever since you prophesied over me, the Lord’s favor has been upon me with government officials and influential men and women.”
And so it is that this servant of the Lord is now known far and wide. Elected as deputy chairman of the Congress of Pastors and Bishops at an all-African convention, he has received multiple invitations from across the African continent. Unfortunately, however, money constraints prevent him from traveling. As in the lives of Rees Howells and Smith Wigglesworth, giants of faith who pressed into G-d’s call despite financial lack, Bishop Bera struggles with constant lack of funds while persuing G-d’s great call.
And it just so happened that prior to my coming, Bishop had to bury a beloved member of his church in Webuye, an African counterpart of Dorcas in Acts 9:36-39. Her family refused to bury her because of her faith in Jesus Christ. Arrangements for the burial, her house and her 5 daughters took 2 weeks, and all the funds he had reserved for my visit.
Astonished, I realized that had I come on December 5th as initially scheduled, the Bishop would have had no time for me nor for any of the planned meetings, as the burial would have taken precedence. Praise G-d, for He had rescheduled my departure date. Hallelujah!
Once in Webuye, we drove up a narrow, grassy dirt path toward the little house he now rented, unable to afford any further the previous, more spacious house.
A host of children came running up to me, excited to see me, and I exclaimed, “Are they all yours?!” Everyone laughed, “No!” While caring for his youngest sister and his own seven children, Bishop has taken in the two children of his widowed sister, four children of unemployed brothers, and the deceased Peninah’s five daughters who otherwise would have had to go to the “workhouse”, a government-run sort of orphanage for the poor, where the children have to work hard for their upkeep.
Right-click on picture, click “view image” for full size
What love and compassion to assume this burden while never knowing from day to day where the money would come from.
Inside the tiny house, I wondered how it could accommodate 19 children, ages 5 – 21, plus 2 adults. Clothes hung over ropes tied from wall to wall for lack of space for a closet. The children slept in bunkbeds nearly touching the ceiling and on mattresses on the floor. The house resembled an overflowing matchbox stuffed to capacity. The “icing on the cake” was the outdoor hole for toilet.
“Dear Lord, is this the place where I am going to stay?” I inquired. I definitely would not use that hole, neither by day nor by night.
But the Bishop quieted my concerns. He, Mama Bera and I would be staying in Peninah’s house, with toilet and “shower” room inside.
“That I can handle, “ I thought.
While they were loading my luggage, groceries and coals for cooking7 it suddenly began to drizzle, then rain, and finally pour. One huge cloud dumped so much rain it sufficed for a week! I couldn’t believe it! This was not the rainy season!
Now all the dirt roads would be turned to deep mud, making it well-nigh impossible to reach remote villages!
Oh yes, Satan was very busy impeding my Kenya mission, as became ever more obvious.
For now the magistrate’s car (the Bishop’s car had broken down the day before my arrival!) was trapped in the mud. And the more the Bishop stepped on the gas, the deeper the tires dug into the mud.
“Tell him to stop this,” the Lord said and showed me a large aluminum sheet just lying on the ground.
“Place the aluminum in front of the back tires,” the Lord directed. It worked! Ankle-deep in the mud and laughing, the children pushed until the car got back onto the grassy path. We shouted loud praises and the children jumped for joy!
Praise G-d! We arrived! Only, as I stepped into Peninah’s house, I was no longer sure which was worse – this or the matchbox on a hill!
Where was the ceiling? An aluminum roof was upheld by rotting wooden beams. And as for the rooms, they were all open. My room opened onto a courtyard frequented by clucking hens with their chicks, several perpetually crowing roosters and seven highly aggressive geese. It was furnished with a large bed and a table, and for “closet” an iron pole was placed across 2 walls. A rope hanging from a wooden beam, with a cloth hanger dangling from it, held the mosqito net over my bed.
Suddenly thick smoke filled the house. I dashed outside. Ken, one of Bishop’s young men in training, had started a cooking fire inside the house of – open walls.
“Oh Lord,” I prayed while coughing fiercely. “Help! Make your grace abound, and let your Spirit fill this place and not smoke!”
What would become of this mission, I asked myself. Till now it was nothing but an obstacle course, worsening at every turn.
“Fulfill Your purposes for this Kenya mission, Abba, and protect me and the Bishop from any further attacks of the adversary.” I prayed as I lay down to sleep.
Staring into the blue mosquito netting while waiting for the loud Swahili chatter and laughter to quiet down, I wondered what was waiting for us around the bend.
7 The Bera’s do not own a stove, with oven, or a microwave; Mama Bera either cooks outdoors on an open fire, or inside on little open stoves burning with charcoal.
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I awoke at dawn – to a powerful kokadoodledoo. Praise G-d, I DID sleep!
It was the first day of our 5-day Webuye8 Seminar. Due to Peninah’s death and burial and my delayed arrival, all our meetings had to be rescheduled within just a few days. Hence, the number of meetings and attendants was uncertain.
On our way to church we visited Sister Ann, a well-known Webuye9 business woman and disciple of Yeshua, who was sick. We prayed for her healing, and she served us sodas.
At church we joined the two intercessors already there. The building, formerly covered halfway with thick plastic sheets10, was now fully enclosed with aluminium. Although there is not yet any electricity, there are doors, shutters and locks. A Webuye11 city official, made a donation toward closing up the open church structure. Mama Bera planted flowers and shrubs around the building, believing G-d for this plot of land on which the church stands.
Soon a young couple and two women arrived. I stood in the open door in the back, looking for people.
“Lord, You sent me here on a mission. Now, please, send your angels to gather the people together to hear Your Word. Fill up this church.”
Suddenly I spotted some dark clouds followed by a huge black blanket. In just minutes rain fell in sheets of water. I bound the downpour in Yeshua’s Name, but it only got worse. The whole area got drenched. Nevertheless, I rebuked Satan’s attempt to nullify our meetings.
We were exactly ten adults and one baby boy. We began to praise and worship our Heavenly Father and His Son, ignoring the rain. We did not quit, we did not leave. Suddenly, one by one, people came in.
The Lord had given me many teachings, but which was the opening one? Only the Lord knows the needs of His disciples. Discipling is like bricklaying, one brick upon the other – but which should be the first?
It was already after 9 p.m., when the Lord finally laid on my heart the message — “Going the Extra Mile.”
The moment I began the Holy Spirit fell on me, rushing through me and anointing the message. The Holy Spirit loved this message! It was from the Lord’s heart, visibly touching the people’s heart.
I preached until 11 p.m. Bishop Bera followed-up on the Word just given, closing with the salvation call. Several people got saved and baptized with the Holy Spirit.
Only after midnight did we close the service with praise and songs, when the generator ran out of fuel, instantly abandoning us to utter darkness. But — I had my big Israeli hiking flashlight with me.
“Let there be light!” I shouted, laughing, and turned on the strong beam of light.
Later, after the service, it occurred to me how very appropriate the Lord’s message was: both we and the people had gone the “extra mile”, and what a blessing the service turned out to be. Halleluyah!
The next morning we learned that busloads of tourists going up to beautiful Masai Safari Mara for Christmas got trapped in deep mud12 and were forced to spend the night in their buses rather than in the lovely lodges13. These downpours puzzled everyone as Christmas is a major tourist season because of its dry and warm weather. Little did they know…;-)
Would the pastors, slated to attend the Seminar, also be trapped in muddied roads? Many would be coming from far.
Would they also go the “extra mile?”
8 Webuye ; 9 Western Kenya – Webuye ; 10 see Annelor’s First Kenya Visit ; 11 Map of Western Kenya 12 A Tale of an Ecco Safari ; Kenyan Safaris 13 Maasai Mara Safari ; Base Camp Explorer
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We began our morning service “Kenyan time”, i.e., about 2 ½ hours late. Few people were there and I wondered what sort of “seminar” this would be.
It was already Thursday, December 21st, only three days before Christmas Eve. People were traveling home to visit family, and pastors were committed to Christmas season engagements.
Things did not look good, particularly when the Bishop walked out without a word, leaving me to wonder where he was going. I forced myself to focus on G-d and on the invisible in the heavenlies as opposed to the visible here on earth. Undoubtedly the Lord had a plan that He was fully able to perform.
Just then I heard the Lord’s voice say something bewildering, “Go and pay for the plot of land.”
“Lord,” I replied in my mind, “is that You? You know I don’t have the funds.”
“I want you to go and right the wrong my servant Bera has done14, and sow peace between him and the landlord.”
I know G-d’s voice. I have been guided and instructed, reproved and comforted by it for many years. I recognize it any time. But this was most unusual to have me pay a debt with money I did not have.
“Lord, all I have is the ministry’s credit card. Do You want me to use that?”
“Yes,” was the short answer.
“Father,” I now replied, somewhat uneasy, “You know I have no earthly means whatsoever to pay off that VISA, with no more donations coming in. It will take a miracle from You to pay off that debt.”
“Go and right the wrong, and sow peace,” He said again.
“O.K., Lord,” I said, “if I have heard You right, I will do it. But I need some confirmation.”
What that would be I had no idea at the moment. What’s more, the Holy Spirit urged me later to tell the Bishop about this, compelling me to step “out of the boat.” However, I cautioned that I first needed confirmation.
We were praising and worshiping the Lord, when suddenly loud shouting erupted from outside. The pastors had arrived! With uplifted hands and shouts of victory, they marched triumphantly into the church, wives and Bishop Bera following behind. Joy filled my heart at the sight of G-d’s faithfulness. His servants had “gone the extra mile”. They came from Uganda15, from Nairobi16, Nakuru17, Kitale, Malaba, and Eldoret18. They had defied weather and road conditions and despite time constraints, they came to hear the prophetess from Israel.
The Holy Spirit fell and prompted me to teach on “Developing Patience” in both the morning and evening meetings. I was preaching as much to myself as to the people and pastors who listened intently while taking notes. In both services, people got saved, baptized with the Holy Spirit, and received prayer.
Little did I realize how ample opportunity I would have to “develop patience” during this Kenya mission. I was soon to find out…
15 The Land and people of Uganda ; CIA – Uganda; 16 Nairobi – Capital of Kenya ; Nairobi Travel Guide; Nairobi – A beautiful East African city; more about Nairobi ; Wikipedia – Nairobi 17 West Kenya – Nakuru ; Nakuru – fastest growing town in Kenya ; Wikipedia – Nakuru 18 Eldoret city gallery ; Eldoret – sister city of Minneapolis ; MOI University in Eldoret ;
Google map of Eldoret in the Rift Valley
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What particularly tried my patience was the constant rain in this presumably “hot and dry” season. Every ride to the church was a battle. The small, used tires with little traction would slither and slide to and fro in the mud, barely avoiding deep grooves and washed-out railroad tracks.
People who otherwise might have come, stayed back.
One morning, an unexpectedly glorious, sunny morning, I spotted threatening dark clouds moving toward Webuye from the North-West. Having earnestly sought confirmation about paying for the plot of land, I now prayed fervently:
“Father in heaven, if you cause these menacing rain clouds to dissipate, this will be a sign from You to go ahead with paying for that land with my VISA.”
Instantly the enormous cloud stopped, turned northward and disintegrated into nothing.
“Wow,” I exclaimed, “that is definitely a prompt confirmation. I will do it first thing next week.”
Immediately the Lord responded. “No,” He said, “do not wait until next week. Do this before this Shabbat, the last one before Christmas.”19
“But Lord,” I tried to reason with Him, “it is already Friday morning, and we have not yet contacted the lawyer and the landlord.”
“Do it before Shabbat,” the Lord insisted. “I want there to be peace between my servant Bera and the landlord on this last Shabbat before Christmas. As the people are celebrating My Son’s Birth I want the land on which this church building stands to be free of debt and sanctified unto service in the Gospel.”
“You are of Judah, of the House of David,” the Lord continued, “and I want to bless this work I have ordained for my servant Bera through you. Conciliate and sow peace, that My blessing may abide upon this place and work, to give it growth and make it prosper.”
The words of the Lord surprised me, for even though He had me prophesy over the Bishop at my first visit, my involvement in it seemed unimportant. Now the Lord referred to my natural descent as being an essential blessing in the Bishop’s work.
I came to realize that the Lord Himself had prompted the Bishop’s “Macedonian call”, and that this work called by the Lord is most significant in His eyes.
I went inside to tell the Bishop. In faith, he had already called the lawyer’s office, believing the Lord would give him the land debt free. Now he invited the landlord to meet us at the lawyer’s and broke the exciting news to the church.
The landlord, beaming with delight, informed me that after the 70,000 KSh the Bishop had already paid him for the land, he still owed $ 2,300. But the Lord had shown me the sum of $ 2,100. So why $200 more?
“For the surveyors,” the landlord explained. I did not understand why the buyer had to pay for surveyors, but the Lord said, “Hush, hush, let it pass. Pay this as well and close the matter.”
The landlord was a Muslim, but had formerly been a Christian. Perhaps for this reason the Lord wished to avoid confrontation between us.
It proved a complicated and lengthy procedure to obtain the cash in Kenyan Shillings. While waiting at the bank, a tall, dignified stranger approached me and said, “Karibu – welcome, my daughter.”
Puzzled, I replied, “Assante sana – thank you very much. Why do you call me daughter? Are you a pastor or bishop?”
He smiled: “I am indeed a servant of the Lord in Whom I believe and Whose I am, but no, I am not a pastor.”
He showed great interest in my reason for being in Webuye, having heard of me as had all the Webuyan elite ever since I was a guest at Kenya’s Independence Day celebrations20. He was Webuye’s former mayor of many years, and had just recently retired.
At long last, approval of the payment came from Nairobi. At the lawyer’s office the money exchanged hands, deeds were signed and peace and good will settled between the two men. Both laughed contentedly as they warmly shook hands, and the landlord wished us a “Merry Christmas” as he turned to deposit the money.
Rejoicing, we drove on to the church where Bishop’s firey testimony of God’s divine provision in answer to his fervent prayers erupted into the most glorious and joyous meeting ever. Halleluyah! And that peace that surpasses all understanding engulfed me, with my heart bursting with exceeding great joy at the Lord’s goodness and faithfulness.
It would seem that God is teaching us – the Bishop and me – to see more and more through His eyes: as it pleased Him to have His Son, the King of Glory, born in a stable with a manger for a crib, so it pleases Him to raise up a great work from most humble beginnings. And He used me, with nothing but Or Tzion’s credit card saddled with debt, to free His servant Bera from the debt owed on the plot of land.
This Kenyan mission took ever more peculiar turns. Just what else had G-d planned, ostensibly strange in our eyes?
19 151 years ago, on a Shabbat morning, December 23, 1855, Rev. C.H. Spurgeon delivered a sermon on the Incarnation and Birth of Messiah 20 See https://www.ortzion.org/images/praise_Kenya09.html
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As Christmas Eve drew closer, some pastors left, while others stayed on till Sunday morning, December 24th, unwilling to miss the opportunity of hearing the Word of G-d that they would bring back to their flocks. Furthermore, Bishop assured them He would have me preach in their villages. Right-click on picture
click on “view image” for full size
Christmas Day was a joyous “Family Day” with Mamas performing the Christmas story, and children reciting Scripture verses, singing and dancing. Dancing is an integral part of African church worship, no matter how small the place. A delicious cake and lots of sodas culminated the celebrations.
Many visitors came by to wish us Merry Christmas and requested I pray for them due to the many testimonies of G-d answering my prayers. Others invited me to their homes to bless their homes and pray for them.
The next day, the Bishop, Mama Beninah and I drove to Kitale to attend a wedding. The large church building was a wooden frame, covered with aluminum. One thousand guests were in attendance, eighty of whom were pastors and bishops alongside one white servant of the Lord – me, from Israel. Next to the bride and bridegroom – who came to Webuye after New Year’s to thank me for attending their wedding and to have me bless them – I drew the most attention as the only white guest who, moreover, was taking lots of pictures.
The bridegroom’s bishop presided over an elaborate ceremony which included a tree-like stand of 12 branches, each holding a cake. Sadly, we did not stay for the reception. The Bishop had to check on his car in a repair shop in Kitale and meet his eldest child, Mike. Kitale is the capital for a large white farming population of whom not a soul was to be seen. At times it felt like I was on another planet, being always the only white person wherever we went.
The day after the wedding, we packed into Bishop’s car (we were always at least 7 or 8 persons in a 5-seater car) and drove at high speed on the Nairobi-Kampala road to Malaba, a town on the Kenyan –Ugandan border. Half way there, on top of a long and steep hill, we suddenly rolled to a halt. Clouds of steam emanated from underneath the hood – the water in the radiator was boiling!
Thank G-d, we were beside one of the many bus stops on this highway, with 2 mini-stores on the roadside.
Immediately curious onlookers gathered around us, and children gawking at me as usual. Pastor Peter wasted all the available water on the radiator, which kept right on boiling. I discovered – with disbelief – on a sticker that the year of the car was 1968, and was amazed that it ran at all with most of its interior under the hood gutted. The brittle, plastic container for coolant – a necessity in hot weather and much fast driving – was broken.
Obviously, the car would not drive any further. I suggested we take a bus, but the men were too preoccupied with the car to pay any attention. We waited a long time as buses came and went. But we never boarded one. Suddenly I heard a roll of thunder! A threatening, huge black cloud approached us, flashing with lightning. I urged for us to catch a bus before getting soaked and they finally agreed. But every bus was full. After another protracted wait, we boarded a bus for Malaba while Bishop remained with the car which, if left unguarded, would be entirely gutted.
People met us at the Malaba bus stop and we walked in single file on a very narrow footpath past fields and mud houses to the church. The path seemed endless and my flimsy shoes, improper for this trek, became laden with mud. My frustration grew.
Finally we reached the church. However, nothing was prepared since we were the ones bringing the equipment. As I watched a young man climb in and out the window and up and down the roof placing the wires for the keyboard and sound system, great annoyance set in.
“This is not good,” I murmured quietly to the Lord, “I am in the worst possible mood now after all this inefficiency and terrible waste of time. Just how am I supposed to preach?”
As though my state of mind wasn’t already bad enough, a large group of children gathered, flagrantly gawking at me. All graciousness gone and increasingly annoyed, I waved the children off.
“Lord,” I called to Him now more urgently, “this just won’t work. I need a miracle to preach! I need Your mighty anointing to overcome this whole situation.”
Silence. The Lord was silent. And now it was pouring cats and dogs, the heavy rain drumming on the aluminum roof.
At long last the sound system was ready. I welcomed a sense of relief – but this was very short lived. To my dismay, the keyboardist was playing in one key while the singer sang in another. Neither of them would come into harmony with the other. I cringed. After I signaled to the singer to follow the keyboard, she finally did.
A heart of worship was absolutely unattainable! I was desperate!
“Lord, help!” I cried out to Him silently. “Holy Spirit, I NEED you! I cannot preach the Word like this!”
“Here I am,” the Lord responded, “I am with you. Just lean on Me, look to Me and let not human frailty destract you. Serve Me, the people need to hear My Word. Openly confess your feelings to them but tell them also that you have come because I have sent you. As you stand before them in obedience to Me My Spirit will take over.”
Exactly what the Lord said I did, and precisely what He said would happen happened! To Him be all the Glory!
The Holy Spirit moved so mightily on me it seemed an electric bolt flooded me with power, compassion, joy, and ever so much love. Halleluyah!
My message was entitled Three Keys of the Kingdom:
1. How to give
2. How to pray
3. How to love.
The words just poured from me like a stream of living water, and the people soaked it up like parched ground. It simply was glorious!
Obeying the Lord in spite of the anger, frustration and irritation allowed the Holy Spirit to blast these feelings away like chaff! This was a whole new experience for me as I marvelled at the effect of simple obedience. And during the salvation call, the old, the young, and even some children came forward and received their Savior, Jesus the Messiah, Son of G-d.
At the end Bishop Bera arrived, praising God Who sent him help. There was much rejoicing and glorifying the Lord. The bishop’s friend, the magistrate, who was waiting for us in his car, drove us back to Webuye.
That night I suffered from violent caughing until morning which kept everyone awake as well and left me limp and drained of all strength. Notwithstanding, I was to preach that day in 2 meetings at the church of one of the pastors who had attended our Seminar. Yet I felt utterly powerless …
ANNELORE’S 3rd KENYA EXPERIENCE 06/07page 9
What had triggered that night-long, terrible coughing? Such debilitating weakness beset me that the Bishop cancelled our meetings with the young pastor. This was tremendously disappointing since many had come great distances for ministry and to hear the Word of G-d.
However, by early afternoon, my strength and my voice – which had also been affected – were restored. And, as the Lord works out all things for good, that very afternoon Bishop’s pastor friend in Webuye invited me to minister at a women’s conference lead by the pastor’s wife. I was thrilled with such an opportunity that allowed me to redeem the day for the Kingdom.
The conference was not as large as those in the U.S., but the small church building was filled up. Most attendees were either pastors or pastor’s wives. I taught in 3 meetings the same truths the Lord had taught me when I was a new born-again believer:
1. the creation of woman
2. how to be a virtuous woman
3. Sex in marriage.
The last subject I purposefullly placed at the end to ensure full attendance.
As often as I have ministered these truths from the Lord, not only do they rekindle love while promoting glorious freedom in Messiah for a woman, but they also invariably save marriages. And while not all husbands respond positively to the wonderful changes in their wives, most do.
During the session on marital sex, there was much laughter as I “demonstrated” from the Word the delightful intimacy a married couple may enjoy together. Shackles of bondage, shame and subordinate status fell with the realization that the marriage bed is undefiled, sanctified by the marriage covenant under G-d. All rejoiced in the discovery that marital pleasures are sin-free and the “icing on the cake” for husband and wife who are joined in body, soul and spirit.
At the end of the meetings, the women sang, danced and shouted for joy in their new-found freedom. And we enjoyed their customary meal of rice, meat, ugale and greens and lots of sodas. The Kenyans are very hospitable.
Because of today’s immorality, marital sex has been vilified even in the churches. Yet the believers’ marriage foreshadows the wonderful union we have in Christ1 which, while absolutely not a sexual one, is one of great intimacy and delight, as it is written: “In your Presence is fulness of joy, at Your right hand pleasures for ever more.”2
That night the rains began again. I awoke from droplets of water sprinkling onto my face, as water dripped through a small hole in the roof and through my mosquito netting. We moved the bed to the other side of the wall and Beninah placed an umbrella over my bed.
Heavy rain drummed on the aluminum roof all night.
During my morning prayer time the Lord said, “Today is not a day of ministry; all the roads are bad. Today is a day of prayer.”
I told the Bishop what the Lord had said and settled down for my breakfast and Scripture reading.
An hour later the Bishop was visibly upset with me for not being ready. He had rented a taxi with driver and fuel (his own car being in the repair shop once again) and was all set to go to the previous day’s church meetings.
“The Lord said not to minister today because of bad road conditions,” I said.
“Why did you rent this taxi anyway, without saying a word to me?” I asked him.
“The people are waiting,” he replied, agitated. “We mustn’t disappoint them again. They waited yesterday but you were sick,” he said, sounding as though he was blaming me for having been incapacitated. ” Please, get ready quickly and let’s go,” he urged.
Annoyed by his tone and stubborness, I got ready in a few minutes.
The taxi slid to and fro in the mud on the road out from the house while the driver turned here and there to find a way onto the main road.
“Well,” I thought, “we are already in trouble just a few metres from the house; how will we ever get to this village? This is really stupid, seeing as the Lord had warned us about this.”
So I said aloud, “The Lord warned about getting stuck in mud. He said this was not a day to go out to minister.” But my dear Bishop friend insisted we continue.
After about a 45 minutes drive we got solidly trapped in deep, red mud, with the taxi leaning precariously to the left where I was sitting (the British custom of having the driver’s seat on the right has been maintained in Kenya). Had the taxi slanted any more to the left, we’d have landed in a deep ditch, with me right in it.
I sent an urgent prayer for help up to heaven.
Several men approached, one directing the driver which way to steer, the others pushing the back to get the tires out of the deep grooves. I sat, grim faced, watching this “performance in mud.”
Once on more solid ground, the men demanded payment for their help. It was so unbelievable, I had to laugh. The bishop gave the men some shillings.
Further along the way someone directed us to a shortcut and the taxi driver turned onto a narrow path. Within a few metres, I noticed large, sharp stones smack in the middle of the road.
“If you drive over those stones you’ll get a flat,” I warned the driver. He drove over those stones and got a flat. Now he turned back nearly into a cornfield and drove back onto the main road. He was about to take a detour to the village when we got waved to the side by one of the many police stops which dot Kenya’s main roads.
“You have a flat,” the police woman said. “You may not drive until you repair it.”
“Oh no,” said the driver. “I didn’t realize I had a flat.”
“What nerve” I thought, “now he is even lying.”
Worse still, he had lied to the Bishop as well, assuring him he had a spare tire when he hadn’t. Now what? Where was he to get another tire? We were in the middle of nowhere…
21 Ephesians 4:28-32 22 Psalm 16:11
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Looking for a market place or village in the area, we saw some stores far atop a long hill. The Bishop and taxi driver went by foot in the hope of finding tires. Fighting feelings of aggravation, I lay back in the car seat and closed my eyes to focus on the Lord.
Much time had passed when the Bishop finally returned with some bananas and sodas, thank G-d. I and Dorcas (the late Peninah’s elder daughter), who served as our worship leader and was with me in the car, were hungry and thirsty. The Bishop went back up the hill, and after another prolonged wait, he and the taxi driver brought a tire.
By now the young pastor who was waiting for us had arrived on a bicycle. He, the Bishop and the driver appeared to be arguing, for I heard the driver shouting. The taxi driver refused to go any further, claiming he lacked fuel.
The Bishop and pastor apologized for having put me through so much trouble for nothing and sent Dorcas and I back to Webuye in the taxi .The Bishop and pastor bicycled to the church where they ministered until late.
Another drawback of this continual rain besides impassable muddy roads was that little critters who normally live outdoors crawl inside houses, seeking shelter from the rain. On the wooden beams above my open room (there was no ceiling), nested several groups of such insects, among them a whole colony of spiders. I have an irrate abhorrence of spiders ever since childhood, when an enormous black one was just about to descend into my open mouth upon wakening.
One afternoon while napping without my mosquito net, I woke up to find a small, transparent looking spider resting at my left side. I swept it off my bed immediately and looking where it came from, found a colony of spiders hanging in the beams.
That night I began to experience slight pain in my left axilla and discovered a small red circle. But, I thought, even if this originated from that little spider, it would eventually clear up as the spider seemed harmless enough.
It was now New Year’s Eve. We were invited to celebrate with the family of a member of the worship team. Early in the afternoon, we arrived at a large, grassy, well-kept compound of several mudhouses that were surrounded by tall trees and the usual goats, cows and chickens. We were welcomed by the large family and then sat down as we waited and waited, shivering in the chilly nightfall for over 4 hours while dinner was being prepared.
I was to learn that this family’s tribal custom was to start cooking only once their guests had arrived, thus ensuring preparations wouldn’t be in vain. In Kenya there are as many different customs and traditions as there are tribes – around forty indigenous ethnic groups23.
After the meal – for which 2 chickens had been sacrificed – each member of the family requested that I pray for them specifically. They firmly believed that G-d would hear and answer His servant from Israel. I had become their “point of contact” with the Lord that released their faith.
That night I slept uncomfortably as the red spot in my axilla had enlarged and become more painful.
Pastors from Nukuru arrived in the morning. They had cancelled our 3-day seminar when American financeers visited a large church at the same time I was to minister at the seminar, and took over the hall that had been reserved for us. We forgave the pastors and sent them home with prayer and blessings the next morning.
The following day looked promising with blue sky and sunshine. Our friends from Kimilili picked us up for a whole-day’s meetings. People from all over the area were excited about my coming, including the chief and his family for whom I had prayed the previous year. However, that night 3 relatives of these Kimilili natives died, and their funerals were scheduled for the very day of our meetings. Most of the people, including the chief and his family, had to attend the 3 burials. The Bishop, the Pastor, Theophilus and I were amazed at such a “coincidence”.
Despite the setback, we proceeded. I preached a powerful message which, alas, I can’t remember right now. Whoever could leave the burials came hurrying in. Just as I was getting to the main point of my message it started to rain; but THIS was not mere rain, nor a regular downpour. THIS rain was so dense and powerful that it seemed as though a thick plastic sheet was spread over the buildings outside that were now invisible. The drumming on the aluminium roof drowned out my voice. Even shouting I could not finish my message.
What a dilemma! Should I quit and concede defeat? Never! I led the people into boisterous praise and worship, rejoicing in the Lord with all our might. We danced and sang and shouted His praises! And as suddenly as the rain had started, it stopped. We ministered to the intercessory and worship team with the laying on of hands, and half of them received the baptism with the Holy Spirit and speaking in other tongues.
Theophilus, the manager of the college where we were holding the meeting, testified to everybody how the Lord had done exactly what I had said the year before. I had taught them that if they had no money to give, a gift from what they DID have was equally acceptable to the Lord. Theopilus brought a large sack of maize as his “tithe” and the Lord had multiplied it 100 fold within the year.
A poor widow who couldn’t afford to send her children to school had brought a small bag of mushrooms, asking me to pray over them that G-d would increase her business. He had done so abundantly and she, too, gave testimony of it.
Afterwards we squeezed into Theophilus’ car to drive out to his fields for me to bless and pray over them. With the profit from the maize he had bought yet another large field and started building his own brick house right next to the fields. He was so proud and happy, thanking the Lord and me profusely. I had to remind him that it was not I who gave Him the increase but the Lord Who had rewarded his obedience.
At long last we sat down in his house to the customary meal, and a lovely woman came to greet me, smiling cheerfully.
“Don’t you recognize her?”, the Bishop asked me.
“No,” I replied. “Should I? Have I met her before?”
The Bishop laughed. “Yes, of course you did – she is his wife. You prayed over her last year when she was so sick. Look how beautiful she is now!”
“Oh, my G-d!” I exclaimed with astonishment. Now I did remember her. I had wondered that Theophilus had such a gaunt, old looking wife. Now she was sumptuous, her face full and her eyes radiant. Her transformation was absolutely marvellous! Oh, the power of the Name of Yeshua!
Once again, like last year, I was given a chicken to honor me and thank me for my visit and blessing them with the Word of G-d in the Name of Yeshua.
As Theophilus and Pastor Gabriel drove us back to Webuye we noticed something most astounding – every other place was dry! It had rained ONLY on the college campus and the immediate vicinity! This was obvious, outright warfare against my ministering to the people in Yeshua’s Name!
The next day, January 3, 2007, we were expected at a village east of Eldoret. The two young pastors ministering in that village had come to see the bishop on the day I was ministering at the women’s conference.
They had made a 6-hour trip over a long, bumpy road just to remind the Bishop of his promise to bring me to their village. Rain or shine, they wanted me to come to minister to their people.
On our way to the village, children ran up to our car, eager to shake my hand and “give me 5” and when we arrived it looked like the whole village was assembled. Upon entering the church, the men shouted for joy while the women made this shrill, joyful noise with their tongues. The church was overflowing, with people sitting outside in the front and the back windows.
After a glorious time of worship I was introduced to preach, with the Bishop being my interpreter. The moment I stood up the Holy Spirit swept powerfully through me, washing away all weakness and fatigue, making me sway by His power like a leaf in the wind. His holy fire ignited my spirit and I stood and preached for 4 ½ hours.
And there was no rain!
The next day we were scheduled to return to Kimili to pray over Theophilus’ 10 big sacks of ground maize he was tithing to the Lord.
Little did I realize what sort of pitfall awaited me this time.
23 Wikipedia: Demographics of Kenya
ANNELORE’S 3rd KENYA EXPERIENCE 06/07page 11
Mid-morning Theophilus and Pastor Gabriel picked us up again and drove us to the college compound. They led us to a large area where concrete had been poured for a foundation.
“G-d has so blessed and prospered me since you prayed for me,” Theophilus beamed, “I will now have my own office space.” Not quite remembering which prayer he was referring to he refreshed my memory: on my first visit to the College we all had assembled in his tiny office and I had prayed for G-d to bless Theophilus for his faithfulness and obedience and to give him larger quarters and office space.
So, one year later there we were, standing on the concrete foundation. Hallelujah! G-d had answered this prayer!
We passed the usual time of waiting for the customary meal, sitting in the grass and talking while people came up with prayer requests. Theophilus showed me their cattle and where they kept the calves when he brought in the oxen to feed.
To be sure, I was shocked!
There in the very hall where we had been having church and I had been preaching the Word of G-d and ministering, stood 4 calves mooing desperately between the benches, soiling the floor with their urine and excrement.
I had to greatly restrain myself to hold back words of condemnation that were rising up within me, as Theophilus is of the most gentle, humble, kind and generous disposition. Simply out of plain ignorance, Theophilus chose the hall as a shelter for his calves, safe from the oxen. Gently I explained that the “pulpit” cannot reside with excrement as this defiles the meeting place. The Presence of the Holy Spirit cannot abide with animal feces.
He immediately understood and was cut to the heart, repenting. Since I hadn’t been there to preach for a whole year, he did not consider this area as a sacred place where the Holy Spirit would manifest. Theophilus solemnly promised he would not use this hall for the calves ever again.
Nevertheless I marveled at the Lord’s amazing grace, for the Holy Spirit had definitely anointed me when I preached there 2 days before.
Now that incredible rainstorm took on a different meaning. Rather than the devil trying to stop me from preaching, it may have been the Lord Who opened the windows of heaven on this particular place and removed all defilement.
As we were about to leave after our meal, Pastor Gabriel walked up with a grandmother and her 10 year old grandson. He wanted me to pray for the boy, and explained that this boy had been “mentally challenged” and troubled by a demon every night since his birth. He earnestly besought me to deliver this boy. Pastor Gabriel believed that I could do just about anything, like Yeshua.
However, as I looked at the boy whose eyes were crooked I heard the Holy Spirit clearly say to me, “Do NOT touch this boy! You are not ready for him!”
“I am so sorry, Pastor Gabriel, but I cannot minister to this boy. I am not ready for him.”
At this, Gabriel implored and beseeched me with every means of persuasion at his command to take mercy on this boy and deliver him. I finally relented, moved by Gabriel’s compassion, and took hold of only the boy’s fingers.
I asked the Holy Spirit to show me what the problem was and how to pray. But all I was given to see was that the mother had conceived the boy under the influence of witchcraft, and given birth to him while sick with malaria. She had died from that disease and the boy was being raised by his grandmother. The particular demon troubling the boy was not revealed to me, as I was not then fully prepared for it.
Against my better judgment, I prayed nevertheless, being most uneasy because of the Lord’s warning. I came against and rebuked what I saw, neither more nor less.
That night I awoke with symptoms of malaria, feeling hot and cold, shivering and trembling, with mounting temperature. This was frightening. But it couldn’t be Malaria as I was taking preventive medication.
“O Lord, what is it?” I cried to Him. “I am so sorry I DID pray for this boy despite your warning. I couldn’t resist Pastor Gabriel and his compassionate begging for this boy. Please forgive me my disobedience, that I hearkened to Gabriel instead of to you.”
“Please!” I cried, “tell me what is troubling me?”
“The curse on the boy went into your body,” the Lord answered ever so quietly, “for your prayer was not a prayer of overcoming faith. But because of your compassion, being willing to put yourself at risk, nothing worse has happened to you.”
Then He said, “Remember what I taught you on ‘transference’ when Charlotte cried for help to you for her beloved ‘Mom’ Ruth?”
Oh yes, I remembered that one. Ruth was terribly sick from parasites and the doctors were at a loss where they came from and how to treat her condition. They gave her up as being incurable.
Firstly the Lord had shown me that the parasites were in her liver and spleen, and that they had been “transferred” into her from a demon-possessed young man on whose head she had laid her hands for deliverance. He got delivered in that these demonic parasites were transferred into Ruth, trying to kill her.
In the middle of the night the Lord had awoken me to learn about “transference”. With Bible, pen and notebook I went to sit outside under His starry skies. He took me to the story of the ax head that had fallen into the river Jordan. Elisha threw a stick in the place where the ax head had dropped, and the ax head came up and the stick went down. The weight of the ax head had been “transferred” into the stick, and the weight of the stick into the ax head24 Elisha ministered the same principle at Jericho, where the water was undrinkable and made the land unfruitful. The impurity of the water was ‘judgded’by and ‘transferred’into the salt, and its purifying, preserving nature, sprinkled from a pure vessel, was “transferred” into the water25. The same principle was at work with the poisonous pottage made harmless26, and the waters of Marah made sweet by the tree Moses cast into the bitter waters27.
But the greatest of “transference” was accomplished by Yeshua when He hung from a tree: the curses of transgression were transferred onto Him, and the blessings of righteousness onto us; our sins and guilt were transferred on Him, and His righteousness and sinlessness on us; our sicknesses, diseases, pains and afflictions were transferred onto Him, and His divine health, strength, peace and joy on us.
And the Lord explained that the stick that Elisha used was cut from an almond tree, and so was the new bowl. The tree Moses cast into the bitter waters also was an almond tree, and the rod of Aaron that budded and bore fruit was an almond branch.
“The almond tree stands for ‘judgment’,” He said. “By the almond tree the bitterness in the water was being ‘judged’ and it turned sweet. By My Son bearing all of mankind’s grief and sorrow, all their sin, guilt, transgressions, iniquties, sicknesses and diseases I ‘judged’ them in Him. The almond branch in the Ark of the Covenant speaks of Him.”
“Do what I taught you,” He said. Ruth got delivered and healed from the parasites by precisely 10 steps, but I did not have all these items at my disposal. Then the Holy Spirit instructed that a wooden cross, blessed salt, water and anointing oil would suffice.
When morning came I requested these 4 items. One of the Mamas ran home to bring me a small flask of anointing oil. Then she went to a neighbor and came back with a rosary. This would not suffice. She ran again and came back with a plastic crucifix. I laughed and told her that Yeshua did not hang from a plastic cross but from a crucifix of wood.
“Just find some wooden sticks and bind them together into a cross,” I instructed. This is what the Bishop did, although they did not appear to be from an almond tree.
I asked him to bring those 4 items, and consecrated each according to what the Lord had taught me. I asked the Bishop to lay the cross on top of my body, to sprinkle me with the blessed salt and water from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, while I prayed simultaneously for the “transference” of that curse into that cross, for purification from the defilement and cleansing from all its effects. Then I asked the Bishop to mark crosses on me with the anointing oil on my forehead, my mouth, my chest, my belly, and my feet, and prayed the prayer of consecration and dedication.
All these prayers I spoke in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, by the authority of the Name of Yeshua.
To G-d be the glory! The deliverance was immediate! The fever, the hot and cold flashes, the shivering and trembling, all ceased! I was well!
We thanked God and rejoiced!
Of course, it was neither the wood, nor the salt, nor the water that delivered me. It was the faith in the atoning work of my Lord upon the cross, which effected the “transference”’ while employing those symbolic items.
I quickly learned that there are certain evil powers that will not come out except by prayer and fasting. I had indeed not been ready for the one in that boy!
Our excitement, however, was short-lived. The red spot in my axilla was now enlarged, swollen and had doubled, taking on the appearance of two lips. It was very painful. This was serious! How was I to take care of this phenomenon? To whom should I turn? I got on my knees. I knew exactly where to look for help…
242 Kings 6:5-6 25 2 Kings 2:19-22 26 2 Kings 4:38-41 27 Exodus 15:22-25
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A test of faith was now before me.
While believing for others to be healed, faith for myself occasionally eludes me. And so I have learned to seek medical help rather than allowing things to go from bad to worse28. G-d works through our faith where it is at and not where we wish or pretend it to be. He also uses doctors, as the survival of our son Yezreel is ample testimony.
I knelt at my bed, seeking the Lord most earnestly. I knew I could not wait another day without having my armpit checked by a doctor. Going to the hospital in Webuye was out of the question. I knew it well enough.
“You are an Israeli citizen. Contact the Israeli Embassy in Nairobi,” the Lord spoke into my plea. “Their staff will have a good doctor.”
“Oh Lord, THANK YOU! Thank you! What a brilliant solution,” I exclaimed, greatly relieved.
How had I failed to think of this myself? I even had a contact at the Embassy, a doctor himself, who could refer me to the Embassy physician.
I called my contact immediately. He gave me name and phone number of the Embassy’s doctor29, a Jewish Kenyan native from Chicago, mentioning he had also been the physician of the former Kenyan President, Daniel arap Moi30.
I lost no time in getting an appointment that was scheduled for Friday noon, January 5th, my departure date for Nairobi. What relief just knowing there was a good and trustworthy physician. Praise G-d!
By Friday, the Bishop’s car was, as usual, in the repair shop, and now the magistrate’s car as well. The Bishop hired a taxi to Kisumu airport and back for which I gave him my last 2,000 KSh. Our fare-well was short due to sharpened security measures, and the flight to Nairobi, where I was to meet my dear Pastor friends, Joseph and Allan, went eventless this time, thank G-d.
I walked up and down the Kenyatta airport, looking for my friends. Alas, they weren’t there.
A kind gentleman approached me and offered me his mobile phone, apparently perceiving that I was going about “non-mobilic”J. Joseph answered the call saying that they were stuck in heavy traffic and would arrive within 20 minutes. Heavy traffic seems to be a perpetual affliction of Nairobi transit. When I told them that I had to be at the Nairobi Hospital to see the doctor at noon, my two friends got rather upset. A full day’s meetings were scheduled that just could not be cancelled. We were to go straight to the church as the people were eagerly waiting for the prophetess from Israel. I insisted they take me to the hospital. Thank G-d they acceded to my demand.
We had no problem finding the doctor’s office as everyone in the hospital seemed to know where it was. The girls at the reception desk were very friendly, but I had to sit a good while as the waiting room was full. When at long last I entered the doctor’s office, he greeted me in Hebrew. I immediately felt at home.
He examined my wound, diagnosed it as an abscess having gone rather deep, and ordered immediate surgery, with at least one overnight stay.
Fear gripped me at the prospect of prohibitive high costs for surgery and hospitalization. All I could see at that moment was the looming debt on the VISA credit card. I simply forgot that just minutes ago I had clearly recognized G-d’s care and provison for me and had boasted as much to Joseph and Allen:
a) The Lord had seen to it that I would no longer be in Webuye but have 3 days in Nairobi where I could see a good doctor, actually the very best, as I was to learn.
b) He had also provided well in advance a contact at the Israeli Embassy in Nairobi to connect me with this outstanding physician
c) For hospitalization, the prestigious, modern Nairobi Hospital is the best in Kenya
d) And my 2 pastor friends would drive and help me.
But at that instant in the doctor’s office, I succumbed to the spirit of fear assaulting me. Hence, instead of focusing on the Lord and staying my faith on Him, I was blinded by the insurmountable debt. I refused the surgery, and the good doctor called in a collegue for a second opinion, who agreed to perform a less invasive surgery immediately. I decided to go with this option but this entailed more waiting. We sat for another 2 hours and then learned of 3 other patients scheduled for surgery before me. By now I was feeling rather weak and was in great pain. The long wait at the registration desk was more than I could bear; I demanded to be seen by the doctor.
A nurse took us to the Emergency room, where after yet more waiting the typical symptoms of a thyroid attack or circulation collapse were coming on. I called for oxygen and the nurses fulfilled my request, though plainly regarding me as a hypochondriac; moreover they had to cover me with blankets as I had begun to freeze, trembling violently.
They called my Jewish physician who, seeing me in such condition and great pain, prescribed very strong pain killers containing codein, and sufficient antibiotics to make it back home to Israel. He also proposed “day-surgery”, which was minor invasive surgery just to open up the abcess and drain it. The costs would be considerable less. I immediately decided on this procedure.
I had no inkling of the suffering that would persist for days to come!
29 Israel Embassy in Nairobi ; Health care and doctors in Nairobi ; 30 Former Kenyan President Daniel arap Moi ; Daniel arap Moi; Daniel Moi’s physician ; Nairobi Hospital – physicians;
ANNELORE’S 3rd KENYA EXPERIENCE 06/07page 13
A young general practitioner disinfected the abscess with iodine; froze it, cut a small incision, enlarged it and squeezed. The “freezing”, however, failed to take, and excruciating pain seared through my arm! More disinfectant and gauze pads were then applied until, at last, my ordeal ended.
Next I attended to the payment. To my dismay I discovered that the charge for the oxygen mask alone was over 500 KSh. Oh G-d, I thought, how will I pay for it all?
Moreover, while filling out the prescriptions at the pharmacy, I realized with consternation that this was the first time ever in all my travels that I had failed to get medical insurance. Without exception I had never travelled without medical insurance – except for this one time. And this one time I needed it desperately.
Following our stay at the hospital, we met with Rev. Esther Maingi at Rivers of Joy Faith Christian Centre where I had been scheduled to hold meetings. We both expressed our bitter disappointment at having to cancel the services, and after some fellowship we ordered pizza. I was feeling better now, and also needed food to take the medicine. I ate several somewhat greasy pieces. We prayed and left for home, unprepared for what lay ahead; the drive back turned into a nightmare.
Utter chaos, bordering on madness, engulfed us. Matatut buses (mini-buses that ride all over Kenya) and trucks forced their way ahead of PKW’s, congesting the highway and every alternate route. Movement was impossible – either forward or backward. And whether we closed the windows or opened them, either way was as dreadful since breathing the moist heat in the car or the petrol fumes outside was equally nauseating.
Stuck in this inextricable traffic mess for 4 hours, the petrol fumes intensified my indigestion from the disagreeable pizza. Thank G-d my friends had a plastic bag in the car! Although accustomed to Nairobi traffic jams, both noted with dismay that they had never ever encountered a traffic jam of that magnitude.
“Who are you,” they both asked, “that the devil is fighting you so hard, filling your path with endless obstacles?”
“I believe because she has a ministry to all of Africa,” Joseph mulled. “She has a great anointing.”
It sure didn’t feel like it. I vomited all night, unable to keep so much as a drop of liquid. By morning I was so weak I KNEW I had to see the doctor once more. He agreed to see me even on this Shabbat day. With tears, I thanked G-d profusely.
I pleaded with G-d to spare us another traffic jam, alarmed I might not survive it. I could neither raise my head nor lift an arm nor walk nor stand when we arrived at the hospital. Joseph quickly got me into a wheelchair and rolled me up to the doctor’s office. I must have looked like a wilted flower with my chin drooping on my chest and my arms hanging down for the receptionists cried out, shocked at the sight of me.
Immediate hospitalization was ordered by my physician to treat the incessant vomiting and severe dehydration. I wanted a bed in the cheaper ward, but my Father in heaven knew better, for after a 2 hour wait the only bed available was in the private room my doctor had requested. I had no strength left to resist. All I longed for was rest and water – to drink – oh G-d, to DRINK! The thirst was maddening!
But first we had to go to Admissions and make a deposit of 70,000 KSh with – Or Tzion’s VISA credit card! By this time I was so miserable I didn’t care anymore how I paid or how much. Costs, credit card, debt had all become irrelevant. Deep down an urgency warned that I would be in far more serious troubles if I refused treatment again. Like a helpless child I let myself fall into the Lord’s arms.
I entrusted my credit card to Joseph who took care of everything, while I was taken up to my room. A nurse was already waiting for me to insert the IV. Four bags of water were administered immediately. Thirst was torturing me as drinks were withheld due to the vomiting. When painkillers, antibiotics and other medication were added to the 5th bag, I reacted as the day before with intense freezing accompanied by violent trembling.
Suddenly they discovered I was allergic to codeine, which had triggered the reaction and was aggravating the vomiting.
The medical staff was wonderful. Each nurse on my floor was courteous, caring, friendly and encouraging. They also were quick to respond to all of my needs. The head nurse, Roxanne, was fantastic, much like the one described by Carmen Bailey in her book, “The Big Trek”31.
My doctor, who is blessed with a good sense of humour, was superb and despite his exalted position in Kenyan medicine, unpretentious. He had diagnosed me correctly and ordered the proper treatment, but I had refused for fear of the cost.
Upon examining my wound, the doctor insisted on 3 tub soakings daily in hot water as there was no time for the necessary surgical measures since my flight back home was alrady on Monday evening. I did not realize the extent of the infection and thought the soakings were simply meant to cleanse the wound. However, they were in order to draw out more of the purulence. There was little else the doctor could do.
By Sunday I could get up by myself and feeling much better. I even watched some television from a TV set mounted on the wall in my room. . The hospital food was excellent, allowing the patient to choose his own menu from several options. But I still was allowed only tiny sips of water. Joseph and Allen divided their time between staying with me and ministering at church.
Finally on Monday morning I could drink to my heart’s content. I was in heaven, relishing every drop of my diluted orange juice when I heard a knock at the door. To my surprise, my contact from the Israeli Embassy walked in to see me and discuss our project in Webuye. Shortly thereafter Bishop Bera arrived to my delight, having traveled 8 hours by matatut bus to come visit me. He felt greatly responsible that I had become so seriously ill in his house.
While I was packing Joseph went again with the credit card to finalize payment. From the 70,000 KSh deposit they took 45,000, the rest was re-accredited to the VISA. The doctor, whose fees were separate from those of the hospital, claimed that had I had the surgery as suggested by him initially, I would have paid less. Undoubtedly, he knew best.
Altogether, the Hospital and doctor costs amounted to $ 4,036.50. Adding the $ 2,368.92 charged for the plot of land plus transaction fees and the usual charges for the Or Tzion’s VISA, the debt amounted to over $ 12,604.00. This meant that there would not be enough funds in the Or Tzion account to cover the new minimum payment because I had given our daughter Ruhama – still a new immigrant – $ 1,500.00 to help pay for the 3-months rent, according to the Lord’s instructions.
As Job said, “What I have feared has come upon me,” so it happened to me.
For a brief moment I had bowed to the most debilitating force that counters our faith – that of fear – as my focus shifted from God to my circumstances.
Now, rather than exulting in G-d’s faithful provision, I face an increased debt of $ 13,134.60, due to late charges since the automatic payment was not covered by the Or Tzion account. Thanks to friends sending me some money I was able to make a partial payment, alas not the full minimum amount. Thank G-d, the monthly fee for the web site of “The Electronic Tabernacle” was thus covered by the VISA.
Now, however, Or Tzion’s account stands at $ 15.00.
Back home it hit me — my succumbing to fear instead of standing firm in faith and trust, I failed my beloved Lord, offending Him. Broken hearted and deeply grieved, I repented and mourned for days. I vowed to keep Daniel’s fast of mourning32 until I will see my G-d’s deliverance.
No longer anxious, I have made my request known unto Him with prayer, supplication and thanksgiving33. I offer Him a sacrifice of thanksgiving and pay my vows to the Most High. I call upon Him in this time of trouble and He will deliver me and I shall glorify Him34.
This I know – that G-d is for me. In G-d, Whose Word I praise, in the L-RD whose Word I exalt, I trust beyond a shadow of a doubt. He will ensure that I have all that I need and for every good work. Yes, my G-d will supply all my needs according to His riches in glory in Messiah Yeshua, exceedingly, abundantly and beyond all that I can think, ask or imagine. Having brought the full tithe unto the L-rd that it might minister unto the needy, He promises to open the windows of heaven and pour down for me an overflowing blessing, and also rebuke the devourer for me. Moreover, because I give with a cheerful heart, a good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, shall be poured into my lap35.
Surely, the Lord my G-d, my heavenly Father and His Son, Messiah Yeshua, shall deliver me according to these His promises.
31 Tanzania RPCV Carmen Bailey contracts cerebral malaria during her service in Tanzania [Excerpt from her book “The Big Trek”: Surviving Cerebral Malaria]; “The Big Trek” 32 Daniel 10:2-3 33 Phippians 4:6 34 Ps 50:14-15; 54:7 35 Psalm 56:9-11; 2 Corinthians 9:8; Ph’pp 4:19; Eph. 3:20; Malachi 3:10-11; Luke 6:38
ANNELORE’S 3rd KENYA EXPERIENCE 06/07page 14
At long last I was on my way home – in wheelchairs and planesJ.
Joseph, Allen and I did not get to say our good-byes at the airport due to new security measures. I was in tears.
I flew to Addis Abeba where I waited comfortably seated in the business lounge for 6 hours until my flight to Ben Gurion.
Once in Israel, I was feeling quite desperate after 12½ hours of traveling. An airport employee came with a wheelchair and took me through the usual arrival procedures and then together we tried to locate my husband in the large arrival hall. It seemed like my husband wasn’t there. Finally, after 30 minutes of checking in every direction with me, my aide had to leave as he was needed elsewhere. He brought me over to a row of seats and lo and behold, my husband appeared.
“I won’t forgive you for this! I won’t forgive you for this!” I blurted out in exasperation although not really meaning it. He had been there all along, looking for me walking out, but hadn’t recognized me in a wheelchair. I thought about this later.
I thought of when Yeshua warned His disciples to be watchful for His coming since it would happen when they least expected it36. Though my husband saw a woman in a wheelchair he did not recognize me, his own wife, because of how he expected me to arrive. Now, what about us? Will we likewise fail to recognize Yeshua when He comes? Might our preconceived ideas cause us to miss Him? May we not be like the religious leaders of Yeshua’s day who were as blind to recognize Yeshua being the promised Messiah as my husband was to recognize the woman in a wheelchair being his wife.
I was immensely relieved to be back home in Beer-Sheva and lost no time in seeing my doctor. He ordered me to go to the hospital emergency immediately but with the memory of my recent experience in the E.R. still fresh in my mind, I decided not to go. Instead, I went to the surgeon at our insurance clinic, “Kupat Cholim”, and made yet another BIG mistake!
Not knowing exactly what to do, this surgeon consulted a colleague who, after inspecting me, immediately turned on his heels and walked out. I was left at the mercy of the first surgeon. He began by pouring a full bottle of iodine into the wound and then filled it with gauze using metal tweezers. My screams were heard even in the parking lot, my husband reported to me later.
The doctor said I was to return every morning and repeat this procedure at the nurses’ station. Never, I thought! Not ever again!
Not surprisingly, my underarm worsened considerably by next morning. I had no choice but to go back to the clinic. My daughter Ruhamma assisted me into a taxi and off to the clinic we went. The nurse, frightened by the severity of my condition, refused to touch me. We set out at once to see my family physician.
That particular day, my family doctor was not supposed to be in his office; however, there he was, having just walked in before us.
“I’m not seeing you today,” he immediately exclaimed. “I am not really here!”
“Oh yes you are, because HaShem sent you,” I replied. “It is G-d Who made you come because I need you urgently.”
He tried to resist me but eventually consented, and after inspecting again my wound he conceded, “I agree with you, this was indeed G-d Who had me come into the office just now. .You must go to the Emergency immediately as I said in the first place.”
We obtained the required forms and rushed to the Sorokka hospital. The girl at admissions directed me to a doctor M. Beans. I later realized how unusual this was as one normally saw whichever doctor was on duty.
“Where do I find this doctor?” I wondered aloud to my daughter upon entering the Emergency room.
“Who are you looking for?” someone asked from the other side of the room.
“Dr. M. Beans,” I replied.
“You found him,” he chuckled.
“Oh glory, baruch HaShem!” I couldn’t help but exclaim.
After the usual delay, Dr Beans checked me and said rather nonchalantly, “This requires immediate surgery.”
A male nurse affixed the IV rather torturously. At long last we were brought to the 4th floor where I sat in my wheelchair in the middle of the corridor, again waiting. Finally I was assigned a bed to await prep for surgery. But no one came, nothing happened, while my discomfort and pain grew to agony.
It just so happened that immediately prior to my being scheduled for surgery, 6 critical cases were rushed into Sorokka for surgery. They had been in a terrible accident at the multi-lane entrance into Beer-Sheva. As the 4th floor E.R. has only two operating rooms, 15 hours were required to attend to all 6 victims. I had to wait from 12 noon to 3 A.M. to be exact, in ever worsening suffering.
Under general anesthesia they made a large cut in the “left axilla”, going so deep that the little lymph nodes could be seen. They cut another hole further down and extracted a huge volume of pus from my left side. Dr. Beans jokingly said that had there been any more, it would have “come out the other side.” Hahaha!
They inserted a medicated, wide rubber band to draw out the remaining pus and I had to rinse the wound regularly and soak in the tub. The post-operative pain was so intense that they prescribed morphine. Beginning with my stay in the Nairobi Hospital, I had taken antibiotics and strong pain killers for 21 days.
Unhappily, there were so few nurses on our floor they only rushed in and out, overworked and unfriendly, not answering the bell. My daughter proved a true comfort to me at this time.
On his rounds, Dr. Beans brought a team of 7 visiting medical students from abroad who took a special interest in me. They also came during my follow-up visits. I certainly was a most unusual case.
At home, my husband revealed a hidden side of himself when he nursed me with tender love and affection. He enjoyed my being entirely dependant on him and acted disappointed when I began to do a few things again by myself.
I had much time to pray and meditate. I became painfully aware of my utter failure of faith in the doctor’s office in Nairobi. Moreover, I had undoubtedly offended the Lord by not trusting Him for His provision. Nevertheless, it became evident that had G-d not intervened on my behalf in Kenya, I might not be alive today.
Although He never promised that we would be free of troubles in this world, He DID solemnly say that “When we pass through the waters He will be with us; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm us; when we walk through fire we shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume us.”37
However, the suffering I endured was entirely my own doing. I brought it upon myself, and in the end had to be hospitalized anyway. My suffering was beyond what G-d ever intended for me.
It was He Who kept me safe from the Nazis, and from the snake bite; it was He Who brought the car to a halt downhill, when my neighbor boy called me to the other side of the street just then so I would get run over. It was He Who saved me from the bus and truck, and from going down in the icy water when I broke through the ice with my heavy skates on. It was He Who prevented me from jumping from the speeding train, Who dried up the fountain of blood spouting from my slashed wrist, Who kept me from breaking my neck when tumbling down unconscious a long marble staircase, and Who had me found in time to get my stomach pumped of 78 prescription sleeping pills. It was He who changed a rapist’s mind and protected me from a gun-toting fugitive charging into my room to hide from his pursuers.
Yes, it was He Who called me and formed me in my mother’s womb, Who had been my Shield and my Buckler even when I did not know Him. In fact, it would appear that the devil knew more about me than I or any of my friends did. For why would he have tried all my life to eliminate me?
Here is what Bishop Bera wrote me in his last e-mail letter (02/03/2007): “People are ever asking about you, how they were so much blessed by you. You touched their hearts so much, You are a person that God has ordained for Africa and I believe that is why the devil fought you so much when you were here.”
Had I stayed in Webuye, I probably would not be writing this diary now. But G-d provided me with 2 Pastor friends, 3 days in Nairobi, my Israeli Embassy contact, the top Kenyan doctor and the best Kenyan hospital for me to get well enough to make it home and have the life-saving surgery here.
I will never again be the same as I was before I went on this mission. My focus of what really matters has changed. Many of the little annoyances of daily life which used to vex me no longer do. They are like water off a duck’s back.
I live for G-d to fulfill His purpose in me that I may walk in the works He has prepared in advance for me. I live because of love, faith and hope, none of which will disappoint. I live to do His will on earth as it is done in heaven. I have become that sharpened arrow of Isaiah 49, utterly focused, wholly aimed, my face set like a flint. Men come and go, nations come and go, fortunes come and go, but what is done in Yeshua, in the power of the Holy Spirit, for the Kingdom of G-d in love, faith and hope, will endure forever. To know and understand Him is all that matters, “what it all boils down to.” 38.
Yes, Satan meant this Kenya trip to become my last one. G-d used it to polish and sharpen me and set me firmly on His bow, aiming me in the direction of the target. This I know, if G-d be for me who can be against me?
Perhaps my story will touch your heart and perhaps the Lord will ask you to be one of His sources of blessing and provision. Your love gifts to me, a Jewish Israeli believer in Yeshua, and/or to my ministry of Or Tzion, Inc. (named “Light of Zion” because the Lord is the Light to shine forth from Zion), are tax deductible in the United States of America. 36Matthew 24:42-44 37 Isaiah 43:2 38 Jeremiah 9:24;