Tunisia, Italy, and the Dark Waters

Malta sits in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.  From this vantage point, we have been appointed to pray for the nations surrounding the Mediterranean.  I was drawn to pray for Tunisia, and was surprised to read on the prayer sheet that Tunisia had served as the launching point for taking Islam into Northern Africa.

While praying for Tunisia, specifically among other things that it would serve as a launching point for taking Christ into Northern Africa and beyond, into all the Islamic world.  Then as I prayed I looked at the floor map and noticed that Tunisia is shaped like a keyhole.  So I prayed for Tunisia to open the door to bring Christ into the Islamic world.

As I prayed more, I noticed also that Tunisia looks like the blade of a knife, cutting between Algeria and Libya.  So I prayed that Tunisia would cut, dividing Islamic Northern Africa, breaking the Islamic hold in that region of the world.

Then as I heard the worship music, I began to dance on the floor map of Tunisia.  In dancing, I finally felt that familiar shift in the spirit that tells me that my prayers have been heard.  And looking at Tunisia again, I noticed that from the southern point of Tunisia (the knife blade); it looks like a big crack running between Algeria and Libya.  Yes, a big crack!  Hallelujah!  Crack the hard nut of Islamic North Africa!

Our host, Dave, shared this morning the vision he had had of a lighthouse on Malta, but instead of a light bulb, there was a flame.  And as it shined, it sent sparks that set little fires blazing all around the Mediterranean.  I had a similar vision of a lighthouse, setting off sparks as it shined its light.  In both cases, we understood the vision to mean revival.

Malta is a strategic place, sitting as it does, in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.  Another vision that Dave had was of a great light entering the Mediterranean Sea at the Straits of Gibraltar, and crossing the sea (moving west), via the island stepping stones of Malta and Cyprus; finally arriving in Israel.  So again on the floor map we prayed and danced on the stepping stones: Gibraltar to Malta to Cyprus to Israel.

On a personal note, Dave shared a health concern about his newborn daughter.  He and Sharon (our hosts) were told that she has a rare disorder in which 2 facial nerves are missing, which makes her unable to nurse, show facial expression, or control her eyes.  Dave researched the condition and found that worldwide there are only about 3000 cases, none of which has ever been cured.  We prayed for little Bonnie, that God would do a creative miracle, putting the missing nerves in the place where they should be.  We also declared that this creative miracle would show the doctors who the Great Physician is, and turn their heart to the only One who can truly heal body, soul, and spirit.

As the night approached, I decided to go outside my comfort zone.  I signed up to do the first overnight shift of our 2 weeks of continuous prayer and worship in the MRPC (Mediterranean Regional Prayer Center).  I am not a night person, and when my pillow calls, I have a very hard time resisting its siren song.  But I had a cup of coffee at 10PM and went for it.  Since the last bus back to the house leaves at 10, I was committed at that point.

Three of us stayed all night: Karl, the team leader; Molly, and me.  A guitar player and a few local Maltese worshipers stayed for a while to help us get properly launched.  We started in joyous worship, singing, dancing, and playing tambourines and bongos.  Then we moved to more meditative worship and prayer.  The Maltese had mostly gone by midnight, but the guitar player, Herbie, stayed.  At 2AM we decided to go prayer walking.  We locked up the Prayer Center and headed into the cool, still night.  Lights twinkled off the water as we sought an open gate to the park overlooking the harbor.  All the gates were locked, so we walked around the park and down to the harbor.  On the way we passed a sleepy guard outside the Italian Embassy, and greeting him warmly.  Of course, he looked at us as if we were crazy.

At the harbor we found the gate to the passenger ferry open, so we went in to sit on the bench there and pray while looking at the black night water as it played with the full moon’s reflection.  The Transform teams from all the other countries had sent us prayer requests, so as Karl read each team’s prayer requests we took turns leading the prayer for them.  It made me feel a real partnership with each team as they seek to take the Good News of Jesus into each of their countries in a variety of ways: Bible giveaways, puppetry, dance, street evangelism, etc.

When he came to Italy, Karl gave me the task of leading prayer for my chosen home country.  The leader of this Italian team (there are 3 Italian teams in all) is a friend I’ve known and prayed for since practically the beginning of my time as a missionary in 2010.  Giuseppe does clowning as a way of sharing Jesus.  As I began to pray for him and his team, I could picture Giuseppe’s bright smile and imagine the laughter he brings with both his clown act and his message of real hope.

For those who are not intercessors or who have never tried praying for people in ministry, it can start out feeling like a burden, but soon becomes a pleasure, and a sweet burden.  The best part is when you get reports back of how God has answered your prayers on behalf of the person you’re praying for.  For me, praying for Giuseppe was the highlight of the night, although those prayers for the country of Tunisia were also pretty amazing.

Then as we finished up the requests for prayer, we decided to move on.  Herbie said good night to us there and made his way back to where he had parked his car.  We went to the top of a hill overlooking the harbor and watched a pilot boat and tug boat assist a big ferry through the harbor entrance and into port.  It was surprising the speed that the big ferry was moving as it entered the harbor.  The ferry made big waves that noisily splashed the rocks below us in a rhythm that reminded me of hands clapping.  Karl had taught us back in Rome about the power of rhythmic handclapping and drumming as a prayer tool (see Bingo Bango Bongo!).  I couldn’t stop smiling.

We continued our prayer walk into the center of Valletta and up to the Parliament Building.  As we passed in front of St. John’s cathedral, it chimed the half hour: 3:30AM.  The bell was very loud and startled us.  At the Parliament Building, I felt the urge to go put my hand on the door as we prayed.  I knew that there were probably security cameras trained on the door, but decided to go for it anyway.  I was not chased away, but almost as soon as I had returned to the others, a jeep drove up and let out a guard who entered the building through the door that I had just touched.  It was probably the night shift taking over.  They saw us, but took no particular notice, since we were just sitting on a bench.

As we passed in front of the cathedral again, it chimed the hour: 4AM.  Even though Karl warned us that it was coming, the loudness of the bell still startled us because it chimed exactly at the moment that we were passing in front of the bell tower.

When we returned to the Prayer Center Karl put on worship music.  He chose wonderful songs, but not very lively.  I grabbed a tambourine to keep myself awake, but found that my sleepy hands just couldn’t keep a rhythm.  So I switched to the bongos, which felt better for a while.  But while thumping them I felt myself slipping off into sleep.  Molly later commented about how I had drummed in my sleep.  Finally, I settled on an egg-shaker.  I stood on the map of Malta, singing and shaking.

Finally it was 6AM, and the buses would be starting soon.  Karl dismissed us, telling us that he would wait for the morning team and probably catch a nap upstairs when they arrived to take over.

On the way home, my sleep-deprived brain was terrified of missing our stop, so when I saw an area that looked familiar I ringed and we got off—probably 5 stops too soon.  Molly was a very good sport about it.  We both knew that the enemy would try to use that mistake to set us against each other, so we remained determined to stay united in love—and really, Molly gets all the credit for that, since it was my mistake.

God is good!  Even when we blunder and cause problems for each other, God is always good!

A Delightful Day Trip

My houseguests came to Italy from Czech Republic to attend a prophetic prayer conference, but they made use of their free time to do a bit of tourism.  I generally help guests get oriented and figure out how to find what they’re looking for, but mostly I leave them to go visit the castle, the cathedral and other tourist sites without me.  However, my friends Rose and Piotr invited me to come with them to visit Como.  I hadn’t been to Como for several years, and it is a very nice place to visit, so we packed a picnic lunch and I went with them.

We arrived at Como’s San Giovanni station.  Como has 4 or 5 train stations.  I picked San Giovanni because it is above the city, and from it you enter the city through a nice park.  From there we walked to the lakeside park where the monument to Alexander Volta stands, looking very much like a giant Duracell battery.  Ducks approached us quacking for a handout, but we had come empty-handed.

We walked back toward the marina under a canopy of trees so thick that it was like walking in the shade of an arcade gallery.  As we passed the marina, I pointed out that it is possible to take a boat tour of Lake Como.  They decided that it was going to take too much of our time, and so declined—much to my relief.  If they had wanted to do the boat tour, I would have waited for them on solid ground in a coffee shop.  It’s true, I’m not a big fan of boats.  I will ride boats when necessary, but it’s really not my idea of a fun time.  I know that lots of people love sailing, love boating, kayaking, canoeing, but they can have it.

From there we walked to the cathedral where we enjoyed the naturally cool interior, and then we went for a coffee.  The waiter spoke English and entertained us with his shtick for foreign visitors.

Then we went up the funicular railway to the top of the hill overlooking the lake and the city of Como.  The view going up was spectacular.  At the top we found a shady bench and ate our picnic lunch, enjoying the beautiful view and the lovely day.  Piotr pointed across the lake and asked me if the city in the valley was Chiasso, Switzerland.  I said, “I don’t know.  It could be.”  When we found a detailed satellite map, we discovered that it was, indeed Chiasso.  I asked him how he could possibly have known that that was Chiasso.  He shrugged and said, “It was a train to Chiasso, and that looked like it must be the next stop for the train.”

We walked along the narrow street to the scenic overlook at Fonte Pissarottino, which means fountain of Pissarottino.  The fountain did not have drinkable water, and had a marble sign reading “Porta fortuna,” meaning that the water brings good luck.  I translated the sign for them and said, “Of course, we’re blessed, so we don’t need luck.”  The views over Lake Como are all stunning, and this was certainly beautiful.  Then Rose and Piotr wanted to climb even farther up the hill to the lighthouse, Faro Voltiano.  I decided that they could do the climb in the full sun of the afternoon without my help.  So I waited for them at the coffee shop by the Funicular and did one of my favorite activities, people watching.  A tortoise-shell cat came to me, looking for some love.  Since I can’t resist cats, I naturally complied.  With a satisfied meow, he sauntered off to look for a good spot to nap.  Soon after that a big puppy that had slipped off his leash came wagging over to me.  I petted him with one hand and grabbed his collar with the other.  When a girl about 9-10 years old came running up, I handed him over to her.  She was very relieved to have him back.  The rest of the family came running, and made a big fuss over the dog, putting him back onto the leash.  The puppy just continued to wag, enjoying the chaos he had caused.

When Rose and Piotr found me in the shade of the café umbrella they confirmed what I had suspected: that it was a hard climb to the lighthouse in the full sun for very little payoff.  I smiled, thinking that with age (experience) comes wisdom.

We took the train back to Milan from the Como Nord station, which is not far from the bottom of the funicular.  It had been a beautiful day, and a pleasant day trip.  I called it an early night (about 9:30), and we all slept very well.  God is good!