Today was one of those days I felt completely overwhelmed with life. I sat there looking out of the window, it was a beautiful sunny day, and I desperately needed to hear the voice of God, like literally.
I felt inadequate in my ability communicate with God. I felt like I needed someone who was more ‘anointed’ to pray for me. I felt like going out to get prayed for by a priest or some spiritual guru. Yes I know, its very unlike me to even think like that. 5 years ago my life almost got completely destroyed because I felt like I needed a ‘man of God’ to pray for me. That ‘man of God’ turned out to be one of the most evil people I’ve ever met. Since then I don’t really believe in being dependant on ‘men of God’.
But today I felt the need for prayers.
‘Where can I go to get prayed for?’ I said slowly, looking at the beautiful green grass.
I spoke out loud, to myself, not really aware of anyone around me.
As I spoke these words, I imagined some sort of spiritual guru, a man or woman who is like super anointed speaking to God on my behalf and their prayers reaching up to heaven at the speed of lightning.
Then as I was lost in thoughts in my own world, out of nowhere, someone answered me.
She was in her own world too, munching away on a packet of crisps, but she was so attentive to what I had just said, even drawing near to me looking outside the window too.
‘Where do I go to get prayed for,’ I asked again, sincerely, but this time looking at her. I felt a little daft, but it was the most logical thing to ask. At that point it felt like my 3 year old had more insight and answers to the secret matters of my heart than I did myself.
I looked at her in utter confusion and shock.
As I tried so hard to process what my little Fadzai had just said to me. I looked at her intensely and asked her…
Then she looked around, probably because she thought I was so shocked at what she was saying because I had no idea what a closet actually was. So she went on, ‘Ummm is there actually a closet around here?’ She was now asking me, looking around.
I was now trying to process if she actually knew what a closet was. I had never ever heard her use the word until today. I have never even mentioned the word ‘prayer closet’ to her or in her presence. I don’t even think I mention ‘prayer closet’. It’s not part of my vocabulary or something mentioned in the home. So I couldn’t understand why she was telling me to go into a closet to pray.
My husband was around the house somewhere, and he was listening and watching.
‘Look at you, you are in shock that a child has spoken to you. She has answered you…or rather God has answered you. She is telling you to go into the prayer closet. You didn’t know I was watching you the whole time did you?’
He mocked me.
‘Women,’ He went on, ‘Why do you always feel you need a man of God to pray for you. No wonder these so called Men of God are filthy rich, any slightest worry in life black women just feel like only ‘men of God’ will help them.’ He laughed.
From nowhere she was just there when I spoke aloud, asking to go and get prayed for and she told me to just go into the prayer closet.
Fadzai spoke today, no one needs to saw a seed to any ‘man or woman of God’. No one needs a ‘spiritual father or mother’. God is not in a box, He is everywhere, not confined to a chapel or church. Not in the ‘man of Gods’ house.
Out of the mouth of babes He still speaks.