jeannesworldjourney

They say the soil of Indonesia is the richest soil in the world.

It is black and earthy. Drop any seed into its inky, volcanic depths and it will grow. I glance out the window of the train and behold the cultivated beauty surrounding me. Tea plantations and rice paddies gracefully descend the hills like gazelles leaping with prolonged calculated steps. Volcanoes persuasively bend the smooth curve of the horizon in a raw display of brute force and dominance, still pleased to bestow their abundant resources as kind, benevolent rulers.

The Indonesian people are much like their soil, lavishly welcoming and rich in heart. We walk through citrine fields of lettuce and broccoli to meet our ministry host. He is sharply dressed in traditional batik, his features smooth and tawny, rivalling the rich dusky skin of a chestnut.

“This is my rose farm.”

He quietly leads us through striped, variegated fields toward the slender, papery structures of greenhouses standing proudly in the distance. We step inside the framed structure and I lean forward to breathe in the fragrance of the first rose rising to greet me. Its tender pink petals are soft against my cheek.

His father and son join us, three generations standing with hearts so full they burst. He tells us of their desire to reach the local Muslim people with the message of the gospel, their hearts burdened to see the lost restored. They are seekers of treasure, seekers of hearts. We leave the farm with armfuls of vegetables and colorful bouquets of roses.

Later in the evening, we sit in fellowship with a small group of local believers. We tell them why we have come and how we came to know Christ as our Savior. They share in turn how Jesus met them, some through dreams and visions, others through relatives or acquaintances. “Our hearts are burning inside of us that you would come to Indonesia and care about our people. We are realizing that we are not in this alone. God has sent you here to strengthen our hearts.”

My heart melts within me.

The presence of God is tangible in the room. We all pray blessing and protection over one another. We pray for God’s kingdom to be established here on earth. We pray for the hearts of the Muslim people to be awakened to the true nature of God. What depths of love can be expressed across cultural divides.

The true riches of Indonesia are her people.

We are welcomed into the homes of many Muslim families. Our offerings of prayer are kindly accepted as their hands rest openly in their laps, ready to receive the blessings of God. Through Abraham’s seed, all the nations of the world will be blessed, even these, the descendants of Ishmael.