The tension of political unrest filled the city with turbulence. Quick-tempers flared and locals took sides for and against the government. The busy market was always a hub of activity, crammed with rickety make-shift booths where every sort of local product hung from the awnings and covered the wooden tables. But today, people crammed the outdoor shopping place with more than shopping in mind.
The air felt especially thick to a blind woman’s senses as she sat behind her table of vegetables. She reached for a tomato in front of her, nervously stroking its soft skin as she overheard a tense discussion nearby.
The conversation grew volatile. People crammed the narrow alleyway between booths, knocking against her table in their distracted state.
The blind woman frowned as she rose unsteadily. “Please,” she protested. “Don’t knock the vegetables off of my table!” Her plea seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. The crowd grew larger, paying her no heed.
“Selling keeps me from begging on the streets,” she pleaded. “Please don’t deny a blind woman her livelihood!”
A young man standing at a distance approached her wordlessly. While she could not see him position himself at the front of her table, she sensed his presence. She felt that someone must have heard and decided to help her, when no one else seemed to care.
He protected the table as the turbulent crowd moved on. The marketplace returned to its usual practical busyness.
But the blind woman felt intensely curious as she learned forward in her chair. “Are you Jesus?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Why madam,” the young man responded in surprise, “why do you ask?”
She explained. “Some time ago, I met a stranger in this very same market place. He told me about one named Jesus, Who loves to do good things for people. What you have done for me today just seems like something He would do.”
Before the young man could speak, her words spilled out in a torrent. “I was told that He has gone up to the heavens, but that He will come back someday to heal those who love Him. Ever since I learned about Him, I’ve been sitting here in the market, selling my vegetables and waiting for Him to come.” She paused in mid-breath. “Are you He? You have already saved my produce – and you see that I am blind. Please, will you heal me and give me back my sight?”
The young man took her outstretched hands tenderly. “I am not Jesus,” he said softly. “But I am His child, and we can talk to Him through prayer right now.”
In the busy market, the pair reminded heaven that surrounded by a world of chaos, a blind woman waited for Jesus and His promise of ultimate healing. When the young man and blind woman parted, she possessed a greater understanding of the Second Coming, the privilege of prayer, and God’s great love for her.
“I will wait here as I have been,” the woman assured the young man in parting. “Until Jesus comes for me.”
While DRC has seen greater political peace since that particular day in the market, the challenges for the Congolese remain significant. This large country in the heart of Africa is home to over two million orphans, poor health care, and too few Bibles. Like the blind woman in the market, there are many people who have heard a rumor of something better, but don’t even know that they can pray.
Please help us reach more souls. Pray for our Bible workers and church planters, that they will be led to true seekers. Pray that they will clearly reflect God’s love. So clearly that even a blind man or woman can’t help but to see.