Apostle Dr. Peggy Elliott

I knew what I was going to do, but I had no idea on where God was sending me. I must say that receiving such a mandate is a bit overwhelming. I can only imagine what Abram experienced internally when God told him to sell everything and go. I contend that the internal struggle for me in being obedient far outweighed the external issue of having to sell my materials goods… until I got to my last piece of furniture that I had to sell, which was my china cabinet.

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               Anyone who knows me knows that I love tea. No, I don’t just love tea, I looooove tea.  I love to host high tea gatherings, using my finest china, crystal, and linens and serving my handmade scones, finger sandwiches and tiny desserts. My desire was to one day open a tearoom in my hometown, St. Paul, Minnesota. I whimpered when I sold my new car, my bed, and my new furniture. I wept almost uncontrollably when the couple who purchased my beautiful, oakwood, lighted china cabinet came to retrieve their awesome jewel of a sale. When they left with my cabinet, I lost it. Two weeks after the original mandate, two weeks after everything sold, God told me I was going on an extensive missions’ trip to Africa. I was excited. I had been a short-term missionary to South Africa in the early ’90s and still spoke some Zulu. Yet, South Africa was not to be my destiny. God was sending me to Nairobi, Kenya to open a Transformational Training and Healing Center for Pastors and Church Leaders. Seven such centers God has allowed me to open in the States.   

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             To train pastors in Nairobi, I had to meet pastors, right? Remember I said earlier that I did not know one soul in Nairobi? So, I called a friend from Wichita, Kansas, who had been living in Accra, Ghana for the past two years. I shared my interesting news, and my vision with her, as well as my dilemma. She suggested that I contact a young woman she had met in Nairobi, over a year ago, named Prudence. Prudence had a unique ministry to American missionaries who were called to missions work in Nairobi, but who did not have a host. Sound like anyone you know? There was no church asking me to come and minister, no church hosting me. What was I going to do? 

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After talking with Prudence, it became clear that she was the miracle person God allowed me to meet, who was willing to set up appointments for me with pastors in Nairobi to share my call and vision for training.  That was in June of 2018. I was to travel to Nairobi three months late, in September, to begin my missionary journey.

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               I decided to stay two weeks in Nairobi meeting with pastor fellowship groups and then a few days in Ghana, then return to the states. It was during that time, during September, that I met pastors and shared with them that I would be returning in March of 2019 to begin implementing the training. After my three-week excursion, while on the plane returning to my hometown, the Lord spoke to me and let me know that when I returned to Nairobi in 2019, it was not going to be a two or three- week journey. It was going to be an extensive trip, a more than six months missions’ trip.  
 
PREPARING TO LIVE IN NAIROBI

               The second time I deeply wept regarding my missions’ trip, was on the last Sunday I was going to be in St. Paul. How was I going to leave my family, my friends, my church family, my culture all behind, to travel not just to another country, but to another continent? Who does that? Who sells all their worldly possessions, leaves those they dearly love and travel on an extended missions’ trip to a country where they know only a few people? Who does that when they are 66 years seasoned? Over five years ago, I almost died. When God miraculously healed me from double pneumonia, I learned that obedience is better than sacrifice. The Lord would not send me if I was not prepared to go, no would he send me without making a way for me to go and stay. Now, it was time to share my vision with those who I would ask to financially support me. 

               I have not received any formal missionary training. I am the first African American missionary that I know from Minnesota. In attending a few missionary banquets over the years, I did know that those going on the mission field are told to count the cost of going. I was going for seven months. What if I go and become deathly ill in Nairobi? What if I go and do not return, God, calling me home on the mission field? How in the world do I do all of this? Where am I going to live? How will get a primary care doctor? What if something occurred back at home and I needed to get them quickly? How would I do that? Although the questions were vast, they did not stop me from wanting to fulfill my God-given mandate. Is it possible to be excited, scared, happy, bewildered and numb, weepy, and loving the idea all at once? Well, I was.   I returned to Nairobi in April of this year instead of March, living in an Airbnb until I could find temporary, furnished housing. 

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THE FIRST MIRACLE

               For those readers who are missionaries, you will understand fully when I say that I had a very limited budget for my missionary/visitor months that I was going to be in Nairobi. My housing budget was minimal. Prudence asked a friend to take me around to find housing. For two weeks we visited the apartment after apartment, finding one that fit my budget, but not furnished, or finding one furnished that did not fit my budget. At the end of two weeks, I was quite frustrated and then came the call, yes, THE CALL. An apartment had been found for me in a very secure location, two blocks from the Statehouse, which is equivalent to the White House. Yes, this furnished apartment, that I was sure I could not afford, was located two blocks from where the President of Kenya resided. Really?

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               My skepticism face was on when I went to l went to view the apartment….up two flights of stairs…again. None of the apartments I saw had lifts or rather elevators. Yes, I was getting my daily 6,000 steps in, like it or not. As soon as the door opened, I knew that God had saved this apartment just for me. The first piece of furniture I saw…can you guess? A lighted china cabinet that almost resembled the one I had to sell in my apartment! God held the apartment just for me! What a miracle. And, there were more to come. I will share miracle number two next month. God bless you.