I will admit that sitting down to update anyone who reads
this is often difficult. My mind
races through all the events over the past month and the days often slip
through my memories like sifted sand. The only thoughts left are the rocks that
were too big to make it through the tiny holes. Unfortunately those rocks are often heavy losses and weighty
decisions with poor outcomes—
The dad of the triplets arriving
early in the morning to tell us that Baby B had a sudden seizure at home and died.
A
seemingly normal delivery that ended with parents going home childless.
A
toddler arriving urgently, still warm, but with no heart beat.
Life here takes an emotional toll and it often requires a
conscious effort to push off the bottom of the pool and come up for air.
A few days ago I took a long, deep breath when I left the
hospital work behind me to join three of our chaplains on a short trek to a
rural village. For the first time
in the history of our ministry, we were getting the chance to show the Jesus
film in the village of a particular tribe I hold close to my heart. It seemed very surreal as our Land Rover
bumped awkwardly over last years planting fields. The sunset view was speckled
with lonely huts that seemed to only keep company for scattered cows and goats
longing to find their shepherds. After
arriving, I couldn’t imagine that we would get a crowd for the showing of the
movie since, besides the 3 adults and 4 children already present, there wasn’t
another soul in sight and no hope as to where they might come from.
But after sundown, little by little more men, women and
children arrived. I started
praying early that the generator would last long enough to finish the movie and
not just leave Jesus dead on the cross! We prayed for calm winds (as our movie
screen was not so sturdy and had to be tied to a tree with rope!), no rain, and
open hearts. For some of the
people there, it wasn’t the first time to see the story. We had arrived at this
moment because a man in the village had watched the film while being treated at
our hospital and wanted us to show it to the rest of his village. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to
watch the book of Luke being played out for the first time ever; not knowing
what was going to come next. How long I have taken the knowledge of the Bible
for granted.
This people group is not one to react quickly. They are deep thinkers, internal
processors, and slow to show emotion. It may be months to years before we know
if there was an impact to our evening in the village, but that is not for us to
decide.
We drove away in the dark in awe of the sovereignty of
God. We did not go looking for
this village. (Even if we had
tried, we could not have succeeded). Six months ago we didn’t even know this
family existed. But the Lord orchestrated a man to be sick, seek care at our
hospital, and so the story unfolds……
I return to the hospital but go to hide for a few moments.
Time to sit alone and rest. Cry. Reflect. Breathe.
A recurring theme and reminder for me this month is that God sees us. He knows each and every
village, every person, every language. God
is not aloof or far from us. There is no game of hide and seek—he is always
able to be found and we can never hide from Him or His love. He hears us when we praise Him, and He bears
our burdens when we don’t see His plan. I
believe, help my unbelief.
A sudden wave of relief and peace. A faint smile and a weight lifted.
I am not here to save the world, Jesus already did.