The Night Everything Changed for Ziza
That’s what ministry is made of.
There are nights when you can’t sleep because your heart is heavy. You’re wrestling through challenges, misunderstandings, team issues, and what many have called “the dark night of the soul.”
Then there are nights when you can’t sleep because you’re still buzzing with the enthusiasm of seeing thousands of people lift their hands to Jesus. What a high!
To quote my favorite Star Wars phrase: “This is the way.”
And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s not easy. This tour has certainly had its share of peaks and valleys, as many of you have read in previous updates. There’s no need for me to mention every postponed flight, delayed ferry, canceled concert, or unexpected interruption again.
Instead, I want to share something much more personal.
A few days ago was our 23rd wedding anniversary.
It also happened to be Independence Day here in the beautiful nation of Vanuatu. Forty-six years of independence for this incredible nation.
Twenty-three years of marriage for Avion and me.
It was certainly a day we’ll never forget—but probably not for the reasons you’d expect.
That evening we experienced one of the largest crowds of this entire tour. The people were overflowing with joy. They were so grateful that we had traveled all the way to their island, and before we had even left, they were already inviting us back for next year.
But that morning my beautiful bride woke up with a very sick stomach.
You never know when or where it will happen, but if you’ve spent much time on the mission field, you know it eventually does.
Every veteran missionary knows this reality, even if it’s not something you’d ever share from a church stage.
If you’ve ever served somewhere that brushing your teeth with tap water, accidentally swallowing shower water, or shaking hundreds of hands can leave you making repeated trips to the porcelain throne, then you know exactly what I’m talking about.
This was one of those days.
It was so severe that it kept Avion from visiting the volcano with us and for the concert we arranged for her to arrive just moments before taking the stage. She took Imodium about 45 minutes beforehand. We shortened our set, and she remained seated throughout much of it.
Not exactly how either of us pictured spending our anniversary.
Yet she never complained.
Not once.
Scripture tells us:
“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)
That verse has always described my wife.
While many people might spend the day discouraged because illness had interrupted their plans, Avion simply looked for reasons to rejoice.
She spent her energy watching our daughter.
Ziza had her face painted in traditional tribal designs, feathers placed in her hair, and a grass skirt wrapped around her waist. Avion was far more interested in capturing photos of those precious moments than dwelling on her own discomfort.
As I watched her, I was reminded why I admire this woman so deeply.
She chooses gratitude.
That attitude has shaped the culture of our entire team.
Whenever we gather at the end of a ministry day, I ask everyone to share their “Moons and Stars.”
The moon represents something we wish had gone differently.
“I missed my mom’s birthday.”
“I wish I hadn’t gotten sick.”
“I wish that flight hadn’t been canceled.”
Everyone gets to be honest.
Everyone gets to vent.
But we never stop there.
Then we share our stars.
“The altar call was incredible.”
“That was one of our best concerts ever.”
“Today changed my life.”
“Did you see those children worshipping?”
It doesn’t erase the moon.
But it reminds us to keep our eyes on the stars and focus on the positive.
Perspective changes everything.
When you’re having the worst day of your life…
This too shall pass.
When you’re having the greatest day of your life…
This too shall pass.
But over the years I’ve noticed something beautiful.
The stars tend to outlive the moons.
I rarely remember the inconveniences years later.
I remember the moments that mattered.
One memory immediately comes to mind.
It was May of 2019.
Ziza had just turned seven years old.
From the very beginning, Avion and I made a decision that unless a place was simply too dangerous—as Haiti once was—we wanted our daughter with us on the mission field.
At the same time, we never wanted to force ministry on her.
We wanted following Jesus to become her decision.
We were leading worship before tens of thousands of people at Town Ground Stadium in Honiara, Solomon Islands.
Like usual, Ziza was sitting safely on stage beside her nanny, happily entertained with her purple iPad inside one of those thick rubber protective cases.
Normally that was enough.
Not that night.
The crowd was unlike anything we’d ever witnessed.
Thousands upon thousands were singing “10,000 Reasons” at the top of their lungs.
Children were climbing onto one another’s shoulders, trying to get a better view.
Others pressed themselves against the front barricades and subwoofers.
It was absolute, joyful chaos.
She immediately dropped the iPad.
It bounced across the stage.
She ran straight to the front, much to our surprise.
Suddenly she was dancing.
Singing.
Throwing her hands into the air.
The crowd absolutely erupted.
I’ll never forget that moment.
Something happened inside her that night.
It wasn’t that we called her.
God did.
Jesus said,
“Many are called, but few are chosen.” (Matthew 22:14)
I’ve often thought of it this way:
Many are invited.
Few actually show up.
That night…
She showed up.
She was saying, “Put me in, Coach.”
At another concert later that same year, she ran over, grabbed my microphone in the middle of “Hosanna,” and took off running across the stage while I chased her around like a scene from Tom and Jerry, trying to get my microphone back before my verse!
She wasn’t trying to be funny.
She simply wanted to worship too.
From that day forward, we made sure she always had her own microphone.
Today, she often steals the show.
Whether she’s singing the bridge of “Hosanna,” leading parts of “Kukum,” “I Trust in God,” “Who You Say I Am,” or dancing during “Waymaker,” the crowd’s response is overwhelming.
Here in Melanesia, they cheer much louder for her than anyone else on stage.
I usually walk over afterward, awkwardly kiss her on the forehead, and thank God.
We’re incredibly proud of the young woman she’s becoming.
Years ago, after visiting Vanuatu, she looked at Avion and innocently asked,
“Mommy… how old do you have to be before you can move out and live on your own?”
Avion smiled nervously.
“Usually around eighteen.”
Without missing a beat, Ziza replied: “When I turn eighteen… I want to move to Vanuatu.”
Our hearts stopped.
Then Proverbs 22:6 came flooding into my mind:
“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”
Looking back at that 2019 tour, I honestly don’t remember what went wrong.
I’m sure plenty did.
I remember what went right.
I remember watching our daughter begin to discover the calling God had placed on her life.
And on this tour, I’ve watched that calling mature.
She has truly come into her own.
What a privilege it is to serve Jesus together as a family.
So if you’re walking through a difficult season today, may I encourage you?
Share your moon.
Don’t pretend everything is okay.
But don’t stop there.
Share your stars too.
Remember God’s faithfulness.
Philippians 4:6 reminds us,
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”
Gratitude doesn’t deny reality.
It changes our perspective.
Thank you for sending our family and our mission team here.
Thank you for allowing us to experience the Great Commission firsthand.
And thank you for standing with us as we proclaim the Gospel to the ends of the earth.
As I write this, we are still believing God for the remainder of our $100,000 Matching Grant. We only have a few days left and a lot more to raise.
If the Lord leads you to partner with us, every gift will be doubled, allowing us to continue reaching the lost at any cost and making disciples of all nations.
Thank you for praying.
Thank you for giving.
Thank you for going with us through your partnership.
Until all have heard,
Pastor Mark Mohr
Founder - Christafari
