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Daily Bread

A Jon Post


Is this what starting a ministry is supposed to feel like? My wife and I left the United States 8 years ago (November, 2009) to come here. I still have to pinch myself and make sure I feel all of this and not slip into the daily exercise of bare minimum missions.


Each day up early to administer medicine.

Each day in the car driving to the Central Hospital to coordinate with docs, patients, blood labs, radiology departments, and others.

Each day the administrative nit picks of property ownership, non-profit registration, ministry accounting, employee taxes, and bills to pay (personal and ministry).

And none of that feeds me.

…Give us this day our daily bread…

Each day when I wake up (after administering medicine to a strictly regimented hour), I pray a prayer Jesus taught me and repeat the words He gave me;

…Give us this day our daily bread…

I pray for daily bread knowing it’s so much more than flour, water, yeast and sugar mixed and baked.

The daily bread Jesus told me to ask for must mean more than that.

Saint Teresa of Calcutta wrote often about needing bread and water from her precious Jesus. She wrote about how much she hungered for something more than flour, water, yeast and sugar.

…Give us this day our daily bread…

When I feel the “each days” start to weigh on my soul…

When I begin to succumb to bare minimum missions…

When I’d rather stare in silence at the road than engage with my patient about Jesus…

When I’d rather sit on my couch than go wash a car with an old man recovering from cancer and asking me for a bucket and soap to do it himself…

…Give us this day our daily bread…

My soul cries out to a Merciful God whose mercies rise new each day with the sunrise.

…Give us this day our daily bread…

And it is there.

Maybe not enough to gorge myself or to become overfilled with its abundance.

But enough.

Saint John of the Cross wrote about the winnowing of the soul that the Holy Spirit wills for those He loves. He talked about the plant that grows on the dry and windy mountainside being stronger and more resistant than the lush green stalks that flourish in the soft soil next to the river. When the roots of each are put to the test, the plant in the arid and harsh places with little to no sustenance is the one with the deep and strong roots.

So when His mercies are doled out sparingly, I must remember that craggy and ugly plant growing on the side of a lonely mountain.

I was never called to be beautiful or to look fresh and lush and draw eyes to myself.

I am no water lily filled to the brim with all that is needed for its decorations.

But maybe I can learn to be a short and hardy Rocky Mountain Juniper, surviving in dry places and putting roots deep enough to find the mercy of God where there seem to be only high and hard things.

Rocky Mountain Juniper

Maybe I can find my daily bread in those places.

I truly think so.

Picture Update on Casa Ahavá

A Layne Post

Casa Ahavá currently has 7 patients with one more lady coming on Monday! I will give you more info to come, but for now at least you can see them. Thanks for your patience, as we’ve been behind on our updates. Life has felt particularly busy and overwhelming. We cherish you prayers and support!









Group Photo: Joana, Irene, Isabel, Isaura, Eugenio, Jon, Cutodio, Torres, Pedro (our team mate)

Jon and I recently celebrated our birthdays and our patients blessed us so much!










A Jon Post

I don’t think of a person’s soul as see-through.
I think of it like lumber.
Some is hard, some soft. Some is flexible, some splinter and crack under strain.
But I can’t usually see through it.
Watching what cancer does to a person reveals the lie that a soul cannot be torn so thin it can be transparent and bare.
Cancer does not work with a soul the way a saw works with lumber. There are no quick clean cuts, no straight edges.
Cancer scrapes along a person’s soul the way a hand plane pulls ribbons from a pine plank.
Irene arrived in our home 4 months ago and I’ve witnessed ribbon upon see-through ribbon be planed from her person by this disease.
You would be so proud of my wife and the 24 hour care she lavishes on our precious Irene.
When the hand plane of cancer stripped Irene of her ability to walk more than 20 feet without stopping to catch her breath, Layne was there to hold her upright and wrap her in arms of love.
When Irene’s lesion on her jaw clamped her teeth shut and refused her the ability to eat normal food, Layne was there to endlessly prepare breakfast, lunch, dinner in unceasing variety, all liquefied and made edible for Irene’s handicapped state.
When Irene began losing vision due to tumors and lesions in her brain, Layne was there to spend the hours it took for swelling to subside and vision to return.
When the hand plane passed again over Irene’s ability to take her medication and morphine, Layne faithfully ensured that to the minute her 24-hour medication needs were met.
When Irene’s pain management required hours and hours by her side praying, talking to her to get her mind off the agony, and holding her hand through mind-numbing suffering.
You would be so proud.
And you would marvel at how thin a person can be shredded by this disease.
Maybe to a carpenter this all makes sense. But to the lumber it just hurts.
It’s easy to tell the lumber that in the end, it is made beautiful, but that don’t seem to matter down here.
Ribbons of transparent soul keep shedding from our precious Irene.
Please pray that the carpenter finishes His work soon.

A Tour of Casa Ahava

Meet our Patients!

A Layne Post

I can hardly believe how long it has been since we’ve posted. I am so sorry! I believe we are close to being settled into our new normal now, having moved house, unpacked, and started taking new patients. Hopefully that also means a new rhythm of blogging. I keep wanting to do a video tour for you, but there are a few final details I wanted to be included, mainly finalizing the rooms on the men’s patient side. Next week! We’ll tour it up. Okay?

We currently have 5 patients living with us, and two others we are trying to care for from a distance, as they are home with family, likely approaching their last days/weeks/months. I’d like you to meet the 5 though, because they are gems… seriously treasures planted in my backyard, in my heart, in my forever being.


Judite is still with us. She is loved by all. When Selah saw Judite after she had gone home for a short visit, she ran up to her and gave her the tightest squeeze. She is strong, maintains such a positive attitude, and leads naturally around here. You will find her listening to praise music on her phone pretty much any time of day. If she is physically capable, you better believe she’ll be in church on Sundays. Pray for our friend, she is so dear to our hearts.

This is Marinela. She has been with us since the end of March/beginning of April. She has won me over wholeheartedly. I love her. She is honest, welcoming, sacrificial, and an absolute delight to have with us. She has two little ones at home, an 8 year old and a 5 year old. As you can imagine, it is hard to be away. Pray for her. Pray for her kids.



This is Isabel. She’s only been with us about a week, but she is so easy to be around. That smile is a guarantee when you talk with her. She is the mother of 5 grown children and already a grandmother. She had four girls and one boy, so I feel like we have a little bond. I look forward to hearing more of her story. Please pray for her.

This is Felesta. She, too, has only been with us about a week. You’d never know her two boys are grown to the ages of 17 and 24. She is lovely inside and out. We laughed over our birth stories, over sneaky kids, and shared our families’ struggles as she poured out her advice. She farms corn and works hard for her living. We look forward to her help in our upcoming garden! Pray also for her.

And here is Irene. She came with Isabel and Felesta a week ago. This girl. She is 32, just like me. She has 3 girls, ages 12, 9, and 6. I love hearing her stories, she has added such joy to my afternoons. She has already done this Chemo thing in 2015 and she’s back. She is struggles with fairly intense pain, but you’d never know it, as she handles it with such grace. Can you pray for her?


And the two at home are Helena and Maria. Pray for them and their families caring for them. They holds pieces of our hearts



Jon and I are so happy to be transitioning out of construction mode, that demanded such a division of our time and energy, and back into full time parenting and patient ministry. We are not 100% finished with things around the house, as building in Mozambique come with it’s own unique challenges, but we are “oh so close”.

God IS good. He has poured out upon us such abundant blessing. May this home be His first. May He use it, and us, to fulfill His plans and purposes here in Maputo, Mozambique. Thank you for journeying with us. My heart is full of anticipation for the future.