What I know about Becky:
Has four siblings, three sisters and one brother
Overflowing with joy, has a contagious smile
Fearless (she drives a boda boda*!)
I walk into the sanctuary scouring the room for which wooden pew looks most inviting today. I see Becky giggling with her younger sister, Rita, and her friend, Fortunate. “Can I sit here with you?” I say, to which she responded “Yes, you are most welcome.” I sit down next to her and she holds my hand in her lap as we exchange stories of what our lives are like. She grew up in a village near Kampala, Uganda, I grew up in a neighborhood near Corpus Christi, Texas. She wants to be an accountant, I want to be a missionary. She loves to dance, I am mzungu* through and through. We are both nineteen. We both agree “God rocks.” We talk and laugh until the service starts and a pastor starts welcoming us to church. He tells us to turn to our neighbor and pray with them. I grab Becky’s hands and begin praying for her, that God would give her courage and strength to do all the things he has called her to do, that she would fall more in love with Him every day. I am praying and squeezing her hands, hoping that she will come away from this prayer feeling empowered and encouraged. The pastor begins praying for everyone, so I wrap up my prayer and open my eyes. I see Becky, eyes shut tight, hands clinging to mine, praying for me. See, to Becky, it didn’t matter if I could hear her prayer for me. It didn’t matter if she sounded spiritual or used eloquent words. She didn’t care so much about what her words could do for me, but what God could do for me. Her main focus was the God of the universe who would so graciously bend all the way down to a dot on the map in Africa and hear her prayers. The God who says what we ask for in His name, we will surely receive. My prayer is to have faith that moves mountains. Faith like Becky.
*boda bodas are motor taxis that weave in and out of crazy Ugandan traffic
*mzungu is Luganda for white person