YES, EVEN THE BEAUTIFUL ONES EVANGELIZE!

Some stories sit quietly in our hearts, and then some leap out, demanding to be told. My Limuru Mission was the latter, etched in awe, painted in miracles, and wrapped in unexpected glory.

It all began with a miracle, quite literally. I had no dime to my name, just two days before the mission. None. But as always, God showed up. He provided. Just in time. That alone was my first divine sign that this journey was more than a trip; it was a calling.

We arrived at Kabuku Mission Church and Prayer Center, our home for the next four days. Nestled in the lush beauty of Limuru, the grounds were like something out of a storybook, green grass perfectly manicured, flowers blooming with quiet joy, and the crisp, cold air wrapping around us like a persistent hug. Yet, it wasn’t all romantic. Each morning at 4 a.m., the biting cold forced us out of bed to answer nature’s call. I’d nudge Vivian and Mumbi awake, and they, full of grace, would accompany me to the restrooms under the cover of night. That sisterhood, that freezing, half-asleep, love-filled walk, deserves a story of its own.

But nothing could have prepared me for what God had in store next.

It was during a casual stroll through the streets of Ngecha when I spotted him, a hawker with a basin full of perfectly arranged peanuts. For the love of nuts! I had been looking for them for days. Mary was with me, and we flagged him down immediately.

What began as small talk turned sacred.

We quickly realized he only spoke Swahili.

Cue panic...

I hadn’t spoken fluent Swahili in so long Mavuno Church had me swimming deep in English waters! But I had to adjust, stumble over my words, and embrace the beauty of being present, even if imperfectly. He appreciated the effort.

Eric was his name. He was from Burundi. A friend had promised him a better life in Nairobi, where he could continue his work as a bodaboda rider. But reality hit hard. He ended up hawking peanuts to survive, paying rent and sending what little he could back home to his family.

And then the moment came.

We asked if he was saved. He told us he was and used to serve actively back home, but survival in Nairobi had pulled him away from the faith. We told him God still loved him. That even in the chaos, Christ had not let go. We asked if he wanted to reconnect. And he said yes.

My heart raced.

We asked him if we could pray in English, but he insisted on Kiswahili then, she, Mary, looked at me when it came time for the salvation prayer, “I can’t do it,” she said. “It’s you.” Me?! In Kiswahili?! I stumbled, struggled, but I did it. I led my first soul to Christ. Right there. In the street. With peanuts nearby and heaven watching. It was raw. Beautiful. Holy.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I was overwhelmed by joy. That moment gave me strength I didn’t know I had.

Funny thing is, just before we turned off into the dusty fields where kids played football, I had told Mary that I had not found someone who wanted to get saved yet, just believers needing encouragement. But God had other plans. He knew exactly what He was doing.

Then came Saturday.

I met a group of bodaboda riders again. This time, I preached, all in Swahili. Yes, me! As I shared the Word, they looked at me, stunned. Not because of the message (though I pray it touched them), but because of me.
“You? Walking around in the sun? Preaching?” "Why would such a beautiful girl walk in the sun doing this kind of work?" they marveled. "You should be in an office, or on a nice holiday somewhere," they said.

I smiled and told them this is the work God has called us to do, to go and make disciples. They asked for prayer. Then they asked if we served tea in church. They said they wanted to come to the service to get saved, where they would feel the power of God more tangibly and drink tea. So I shared the flyers and invited them to church.

Whaaaaaaaaat! I was stretched. Surprised. Humbled that I was before a group of men, preaching and responding to their questions.

As I went along, everything became easier. I found the right Swahili words, my memory of words flowed back naturally, and, in a moment that deeply moved me, I even prayed the salvation prayer with another security guy in Swahili, alongside Will and Mumbi. It was truly unforgettable.

I had never approached strangers to evangelize before, unless I was handing them a flyer and inviting them to Mavuno Church, Ruaka. But this time, I saw what obedience could do. I saw how God doesn’t look for perfection, He looks for willing. And in my weakness, He worked wonders.

Four days. A lifetime of lessons. I’m still floating in the awe of it all. Lord, I am grateful that this mission has opened my eyes to so many aspects of Leadership, surrender, and I continue to learn as I go along. Ill be back to share more mission stories soon.

So yes, even the beautiful evangelize. And when they do, heaven rejoices!