Jenny Mutale is a counsellor and minister of God. Her story of being jilted at the altar went viral on social media, but until one hears the rest of her testimony, one cannot fathom just how strong a person can be.
On Sunday July 28 she gave her full testimony at New Jerusalem Deliverance Centre in Bunamwaya-Ngobe, to an emotional congregation. Carolyne Nakazibwe recorded it:
I was one week old when the car I was travelling in with my parents was involved in a fatal accident. I am told my father died on the spot, while my mother broke her spinal cord in that accident; so, I stayed in the forest for three days.
It is by God’s grace that we were found alive. But my mother passed away when I was five years old. I had siblings but my known brother was in the army of DR Congo. I also knew I had a half brother – my mother’s son – but I had no idea where he was.
Recently the Lord told me, “Your brother is alive in California with three children. I am going to stir up his spirit and he will come looking for you.” So, I am waiting.
After my mother’s death, I was taken in by her relatives in Kigali [Rwanda] and one of them even sent me to South Africa to study and live there for a while. But after the 1994 Rwanda genocide, this same person sent for me to be returned to Kigali, because she said, “I shall need a child to [run errands].”
So, I went back and the only plan this person had was to give me back to my father’s side; my father used to live in Uganda. He was born in Uganda and that is where he met my mother.
When they gave me to my father’s side, they told him the child you are taking is a liar, she is a thief, never listen to her… so I started to be rejected at a very young age. I had never met these people, but when my mother’s side gave me to my father’s side, they never allowed me to go in peace.
At the age of 10, they had chased me [from my father’s home]. So, I went to the streets. I was living with friends, sleeping under bridges, sleeping on the streets like for two years. When I was 12, my brother in the Congo army came and found me and he was shocked that I was still alive. He asked where I was staying, and I said I was staying with friends.
He took me to his adoptive mother; they had two children, a boy and a girl. She took me back to school. Things were getting better, then she also died. I will not give you names, I will protect these people, but after her death, someone molested me.
That was the beginning of a fall. I did not know who I was anymore, my dream died, I started taking drugs, I started drinking heavily; I did not care anymore. I started living with my molester for three years. He was a Muslim. He was like, “Instead of you being on the streets, you can as well stay with me.”
I was young, remember? So, I converted to Islam. This man would get drunk and go out with other women. He used to smoke and I still have a few scars where he used to put out his cigarettes on my body.
And he would tell me, “You are nothing; you will never amount to anything.”
Going forward. I met up with a group of prostitutes later.
They would tell me, “See how beautiful you are; you could attract a white man.”
I went around with them as they plied their trade, but I failed to do prostitution, because I was already broken from childhood. In that place I, however, found groups of Rastafarians. So, I became a Rastafarian. Now, the drug use became even worse, but at least these ones loved me and taught me how to love.
I was a vegetarian for five years, but again as things were getting better, those ones also left me. One went to Belgium, another to Senegal… I wondered, is there anything good in this life?
I was once engaged, and this fiancé went to Belgium to study for a year; we were supposed to have a wedding. I waited for him for a year. He stopped calling, and in the midst of that I had a mental breakdown and ended up in Butabika [national mental health referral hospital].
It is in Butabika that I got this scar [on her hand], because I had an injection [cannula]; they never removed it, they were beating me up and on top of that I had no clothes. They locked me up in a room and I was at Butabika for two months. It is only recently that someone told me they remove your clothes to break your will. I had not known that. I thought I had removed them because I was mad.
My brother came and collected me from Butabika and relocated me to another mental health institution. I had no one thereafter to sign on my papers of release. But there was an old lady called Una – sadly, she died before I could even properly say thank you.
This is a lesson for you; whatever you do, do it quickly. How I wish I had written a thank you letter to her! But maybe one day God will send me her child. In all this turmoil, I once swallowed about 60 tablets, hoping to die. I fell sick as a result for four months. You think you are depressed when you are going to commit suicide, but I think it is more depressing to wake up and discover you did not die.
Turning to God
In 2010, I gave my life to Christ. I was at home and heard an audible voice, before I was even born-again. God is really a father. He is real. He speaks. He works. He instructed me to go to Entebbe, at the lakeshore. I went and was looking at the waves.
God’s voice spoke again: “That is how your years are going. But if you give your life to Me, I will make a turnaround of your life and your child will never go through what you went through.”
I was so broken and so angry. I told Him, “God, I am not going to give You my life. What have You done for me? When I was rejected, where were You? When I was raped, where were You? When I went mad, where were You? Why didn’t You even let me die? What do You want from me?”
I took a taxi back to Kampala, but on the way, the Holy Spirit convicted me. When I reached home, I told people I am becoming born-again. I gave my life to Christ, and the Lord has restored me. Doors opened. I went to Bible college and did a diploma. I went to Makerere University to study counselling, now I am doing a degree in Theology… a turnaround in my life.
One more test
Now, in 2017 there was this man; we meet in church, we are praying and we are preparing for a wedding. Everything was done, everything was paid for. On the wedding morning of February 25, 2017, I went to the salon, and they called to tell me, the man was nowhere to be seen. When I got to the church, indeed he was not there.
I remember sitting in the car and praying: “I heard that in the waters You are there; even in the fire, You are there. I don’t know whether this is fire or the waters. But if You don’t strengthen me, I am finished!”
People had travelled from Kigali, my friends were there and I had been adopted by a father and mother as an adult. My father walked me down the aisle as planned; God knows everything. People were seated to the left and right. I got to the altar and it was indeed empty. The choir was singing. The service continued normally and then the pastor called me forward and they prayed for me.
I remember the man of God saying, “I don’t know why you even came to this church, but Christ is Lord.”
We prayed and I headed home. At home, my brother Shalom told me in front of everyone, “Because you have obeyed; because you were not dismayed, the Lord is giving you an Isaac.”
I asked them to take me to the hotel where some people were staying, and I started encouraging them. I told them, if God sits on the throne and He has called me and I am His servant, He will bring you all back for another wedding with a good man.
People thought I was mad again; remember I have a history of mental illness!
They then asked about the reception; I told them we will go to the reception as planned. I felt a peace that surpasses all understanding. That day I learnt that [the Bible] may be just ink, but when you trust the Lord, [the Bible] can become alive. The Word of God is alive, it is active…
I told Him, “Lord, hold my hand.”
We entered the reception venue; people were dancing, I cut the cake, people gave speeches saying, “from today the Lord has sharpened you like a double-edged sword”.
And those people were not born-again, but they were prophesying. God had filled the room.
I said, “Lord I will believe You, whether things are good or bad, whether You have worked or not, You are God. No one is like You.”
Then my friends decided to take me to Jinja for a one-week ‘honeymoon’.
When I came back from the honeymoon, I started to pray, telling God He is so good and asking Him to do it again so people may know He is God.
Then the Lord spoke to me and said, “I permitted the drought, so that when I work in your life, not you, not the people, but they will know that I alone have done it. I will show people that you are mine and I will share you with nobody.”
Lo and behold towards the end of that same year 2017, I met a good man. In 2018, I walked down the aisle with this good man. My family that had rejected me, turned up saying they had to tap into what God was doing in my life. As I speak today, I have a peaceful man. That man has peace. And that man appreciates the call of God on my life.
He told me, “Go and testify to the world. Tell people what God can do.”
He took me with all my history. I would tell him, “There is also this other thing…”
His answer would always be: “I still love you.”
I would protest, “But there is also this detail…”
He would say, “I love you that way.”
Finally, he told me two days ago, “I am in your life to fulfil the assignment of God on your life.”
What more can I say, but to thank God and give Him all the glory!