In April 1990, the late Brent Rue from the Desert Vineyard in Lancaster, California, came to South Africa for a conference. Brent was one of the first church planters sent out by John Wimber in California. I saw something in this soft-spoken man that ignited my desire for more of God. He shared stories about the prophetic gift that God was pouring out on people. He spoke about prophetic figures like Paul Caine and Bob Jones. He described the Vineyard Ranch. It is where students of various churches, from around the world, came to attend the School of Ministry. They sought God's calling and healing. Then, they were sent to plant churches.

 

This was a pivotal time in South Africa. Prime Minister F.W. de Klerk decided to end apartheid and release Nelson Mandela from prison. In 1993, de Klerk apologized for apartheid's harm. Later, he and Mandela shared the Nobel Peace Prize. I don't think de Klerk fully understood the full impact of his actions. But, he knew it was the right and honourable thing to do. I remember an interview with him on the BBC at that time, where he was accused of being deceitful.

 

On the first evening of the conference, Brent Rue mentioned that he doesn’t watch much television. (At the Vineyard Ranch, they did not have television.) He admitted he was not fully aware of the political situation in South Africa. But, from what he had seen in his hotel room, he encouraged us as Christians to pray for de Klerk. He believed de Klerk's work was not only about politics. It was also about addressing the country's spiritual strongholds. I have a strong belief that it was a prophetic word for us. 

 

Sadly, de Klerk's marriage ended in divorce in 1996, and in 2001, his ex-wife was brutally murdered at her home.

 

On the Saturday after the conference, I was driving home, crying out to God in desperation. I longed for more of Him and wanted what Brent Rue had. I was no longer content with the lukewarm Christian life I was leading. I cried so much in the car that I could hardly see where I was going.

 

As I left home on Saturday afternoon for the last night of the conference at the Central Methodist Church in down-town Johannesburg, I noticed the darkening sky. A chill ran down my spine; I had never seen clouds so black, large, and heavy with rain in my life. As soon as I set off, the heavens opened. It was like driving through a waterfall. I struggled to see the road ahead. Looking at the road’s edge, I could not tell where the road ended and the pavement began. It felt like driving in a sea of water. All I could do was pray that God would keep me on the road and help me arrive at my destination safely.

 

When Brent Rue took to the podium, he spoke of the rain. He said he felt it was not a coincidence, but an outpouring from God. Later, while teaching, he stopped and prophesied over people in the congregation. There were at least 600 people present. To my astonishment, he called me to stand. I kept glancing around, unsure if he might be pointing at someone else. Everyone around me urged me to get up. This confused me, as it was not a typical experience for me. Once I stood, he began to speak into my life.

 

He said: “The Lord is giving you beauty for ashes. The weaknesses you see within yourself are being replaced with strength. Even this night will be a turning point for you; this is a new beginning. The Lord is rerouting your life. He is giving you the vision and the ability to hear. Your ministry will be to speak forth the word of God, providing a timely word for His people. You will be a counsellor. You will discern by the Spirit of God and will speak encouragement straight to people’s hearts. You will speak things from your mouth that you have never heard yourself say before. The Lord says: 'I have kept you here to release you at My time.' He is giving you tonight beauty for ashes and strength to rely on. It is the Lord who will uphold you with His mighty right arm.”

I was shaking like a leaf. I couldn’t remember everything he said, but I felt that something profound had happened. I had to purchase the recordings to capture Brent Rue’s words for me. My mentor, Naomi, was sitting upstairs on the balcony and couldn’t see me. However, when Brent Rue started speaking, she said, “He is speaking to Leonie.” I took that as confirmation.

 

Around mid-August 1990, I went through a period of intense soul-searching. I became aware of my flaws, my pain, and my deep desire for more of God and less of myself. Surprisingly, I had a sudden yearning to renovate my kitchen and create the best space possible. This felt meaningless at times, yet I was puzzled by this strong creative urge. I felt like I would explode if I didn’t do something with it.

 

I experienced strange longings in my heart. My divorce scars were healing. I even longed for a best friend to share my life with. I thought of a dear lady in my home group. She had osteoarthritis and struggled to pour a cup of tea. I longed for her to be healed and saw the defeat in her eyes when people asked if they could pray for her. Sometimes, when nothing happened, they would quickly label her. They suggested reasons for her lack of healing, like, "There must be sin in your life." She endured such cruelty and, eventually, stopped receiving prayer. Little did I know that I would face similar issues in my 70s.

 

I wondered why I could be so selfish to long for someone special when people like her were suffering. I even told the Lord I would surrender my longing for companionship in exchange for her healing. Much later, I realised how presumptuous it was for me to think I could make such a deal with the Lord.

 

One Sunday morning at church, a man named Danny Bridges delivered a message on worship. During his talk, I saw that lady get up and go forward for prayer. I was amazed and felt compelled to stretch out my hand in prayer for her. After the service, she came to me and shared that while standing there crying, God had shown her my face. We hugged, and I began to cry with her. She then told me she was ready to receive prayer again. I felt encouraged by that.

 

My dear brother Theo visited me one weekend during this time. We had a wonderful time together. We went to the movies and enjoyed long talks. He planned to head home on Sunday. When I got back from church, I found a beautiful arrangement of vegetables and fruit on my kitchen table. It came with a note from him.

 

“Sing, O barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy – because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband” says the Lord. “For your Maker is your husband.” From Isaiah 54.