Mr. Linguja was a quiet, gentle man of humble means. He was a member of Chigamula Congregation from the time it was a small village church of fewer than 200 people, a long walk from Limbe business center. Today the church is a congregation of well over 2,000, as the area has grown up with the business interests of Limbe, becoming an affluent suburb to the developing business center, a short drive to work. But in all of this, Mr. Linguja remained the same – a subsistence farmer who lived by faith. On his meager earnings, he and his wife supported the church, educated 5 children and managed to stay in their humble home up to the day of his death. He was an elder of the church for over 50 years, but that is only a title. He was a man who lived his faith and shared it with all around him. His testimony of God’s grace and provision was his favorite topic of conversation. The story changed with each day because God’s grace is fresh each day and always displays itself in new ways, he was quick to say.
There was nothing old about this man or his faith. He was among the pioneers of partnership between Pittsburgh and Blantyre Synod. This humble man of little formal education but great Bible knowledge, was one of the first missionaries to go to Pittsburgh from Blantyre in 1991, his first time out of southern Malawi at age 72. He was uncertain what he had to offer the trip or the new partners in Pittsburgh, but his pastor at the time, Rev. Dr. Silas Ncozana, encouraged him that his faith was more than enough to share. The church affirmed this by helping to sponsor him on the trip. The pastor was right. Mr. Linguja quickly became a favorite among the other missionaries and the partners for his words of encouragement and affirmation. There, as here, he carried his worn leather Bible but rarely had to read from it. He had memorized most of the passages that he used for the focus of his talks. (He never claimed to preach. He just shared who God was in his life and what he had done.) I had heard of Mr. Linguja long before I met him. When I met him, his broad grin and warm welcome won my heart. Then he shared his story of God’s faithfulness for that day, and I knew why everyone who met him talked about him as they did. He was a giant from the stories told of him, although he stood at a mere 5 feet, with hunched shoulders. When I had my first hip replacement, he traveled on 5 minibuses to come pray for me. I could barely stand, but he knelt before God on my behalf. I was humbled. In the last days before his death, he pleaded with his family to not make him eat so he could go more quickly to be with his God. He was ready. In the quiet of the night of February 26th, surrounded by his family, he peacefully slipped into God’s presence.
His funeral was a celebration of his life. Seven clergy came to offer prayers and testimony. This happens for ranking Synod officials but here was a “mere Christian” who touched the lives of these servants of God. The service was held at the church rather than the home to accommodate the large congregation. Chigamula’s spacious new sanctuary was filled. His children and grandchildren sang a song they had shared together with him countless times, as a farewell to the body. His spirit is with Jesus. The spirit of his life will live in the hearts of those who knew him and loved him. The stories of his faith will inspire others to faithfulness. That is the mark of a saint.
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