A Jon Post
One year in Africa. A month in Botswana, two months in Mozambique, two months in Angola, one month in Namibia and finally, 6 more months in Mozambique. Twelve months in Africa.
And today, one year in, a painful reminder of the reason we are here.
Today, Oombi died. The three-year-old son of my good friend Albano entered the hospital 10 months ago with a cancerous tumor in his eye. Albano brought his son to the Maputo Central Hospital and lived with him, slept in the same bed, spent every long day caring for his son and waiting to take him home. He goes home on Wednesday in a casket.
We knew and loved Oombi. We visited him and his father. Over the last 6 months I’ve sat countless times with Albano, praying over his sick boy, waiting on the hand of our Lord. I’ve studied the Bible with Albano while he held his tired son in his lap. And I’ve smiled and held Oombi as he toddled over to me with a shy smile.
This is our ministry.
One year in.
We have a vision. It’s not huge for now. It’s not to reach hundreds at a time. It’s to see the one. To love the one. To bring a smile to the one.
One at a time.
Our vision is to use the house the Lord has blessed us with as a place of hope. A place of love.
We’ll call it Casa Ahava. Casa simply means house or home in Portuguese and Ahava is a Hebrew word for love. It’s used in the Song of Solomon 8:7 when speaking of a love that cannot be washed away or quenched by a torrent of water. A love that sees all the depth of suffering and pain that will come as a result of choosing to love and yet chooses anyway. Ahava sees pain and misery and chooses to love.
Casa Ahava will see pain and loneliness and offer hope and rest.
One at a time.
This is our ministry. This is our vision.
perfectly said Jon… perfect. Its all for one. :) sorry you and the family are mourning today and the following days. So glad God put you there to be a support to the father while the family is not able to be there. Love you guys. Will be praying for this family during this very difficult time.
May our Lord comfort you as you comfort others through difficult times. I appreciate your consistency in bringing these stories to us. Your example of sharing the Gospel in this tangible way is humbling. Thank you.
Thank you for being Jesus with skin on to Albano and Oombi. I pray someone will be Jesus with skin on to you.
My heart is broken, knowing the grief and sadness that have touched Albano … and you. I mourn with you.
May the Lord comfort Albano. How can such pain be endured?
God, You know, don’t You?
These personal stories are so moving, so sad. The comfort and support you provide each of them through their last days are of the sweetest most honest and profound thing I’ve ever known.