Something More

This God--his way is perfect; the word of the Lord proves true; he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him.-- Psalm 18:30

Merely ten days ago I wrote a blog about the grieving of a friend where I said, "the Lord had other plans." Little did I understand the extent of that statement and that we were actually in the middle, and not the end, of a story that continues to unfold today. 

As many of you know already, Todd Dekryger was the Medical Director for this hospital as well as a talented surgical physican assistant who ran our surgery department here at the Hospital of Hope. He was the visionary, the motivator, and main recruitor for the team. But in the middle of Febuary, he became ill with symptoms consistent with malaria and rested at home over several days. He continued to struggle despite the treatment and was admitted to the hospital 1 week after he became ill. His testing for malaria was still significantly positive which spoke to us about the severity of the illness. His labs were also suspicious for Typhoid fever, which we began to treat as well. As many know the story, Todd continued to worsen and the decision was made to try and medivac him out-of-country to seek further supportive care and recovery. And although Todd was extremely ill when he boarded that small plane headed for Germany, I had no doubt in my mind that I would see him soon on Togo soil.

But this was not to be. Less than 24 hours after landing in Germany, Todd went to be with the Lord. 

The story was over.  Complications from severe malaria would not be overcome, but none of us were doubting that the Lord would somehow use Todd's death to still bring a message of Hope to the Togolese people--the message of how Christ had overcome death to save the world, to save the Togolese people. 

But one week after boarding Todd onto that plane, Andrés, a volunteer nurse with Samaritan's Purse who had cared for Todd, developed a fever. As common diseases are common, Andrés treated his illness with malaria medications and tried to rest. Three days later, he came into the clinic because his fever never went away. By God's miraculous plan, Andres came into the hospital to get some IV fluids. The doctor who had cared for Todd happened to be passing off patient care to another doctor for the day, but happened to look up at the computer screen and saw Andres' lab results. Nothing short of dread came over her as the lab results that stared back at her were mirror images as those Todd had presented with. 

What if Todd had something more?

That something more came to be diagnosed as Lassa fever--a viral hemorrhagic fever normally not found in Togo but instead endemic to Sierra Leone and Nigeria--countries that don't even touch Togo!  By this time the suspicsion for Lassa fever was confirmed, Andres had already been isolated and infection prevention measures were taken. Samaritan's Purse was able to evacuate Andres to the United States where he remains hospitalized in order to recover. As it turns out, Nigeria was and is experiencing a large outbreak of Lassa fever that was able to reach our town, likely through a patient who wanted to seek care at the Hospital of Hope. 

Many of you may be thinking, "This is still a horrible, tragic story." And in many ways it is.  No one can deny the pain and void we feel every day because Todd is not here with us, leading the charge towards compassionate healthcare in the name of Christ.

But there may be something more.  

If the inital patient, of whom we'll never be able to identify, had come into Togo and even our Hospital, and died here, we would've never known his true diagnosis. As sophisticated testing, such as Lassa testing, doesn't exisit here, the death would have tried to be assumed as liver failure, yellow fever, or just a severe bacterial infection. We would have continued to see patients and never associated that death with any other illness that may have developed in our healthcare workers here, or the community. Because we try to do as few labs as possible here, in order to keep things affordable for the Togolese, we wouldn't have seen daily labs each morning as we could with Todd. We would have never linked any labs results with each other. 

What if the doctor that took care of Todd wasn't seated at that computer at that moment to see Andres' test results? Andres may have continued to get sicker and not had enough time to start treatment or get evacuated to the US. 

Todd's illness and subsequent death made it possible for us, for Togo and for the world to be notified of a potential outbreak of a viral hemorrhagic fever in a country that was not felt to be at risk. Although many of us are on surveillance and verifying that we are not at risk, the story as it is unfolding, saved lives....many lives. Lives that this hospital was built to reach with the message of Christ. 

The story seems like it should end there. But 3 days after Andrés left for the United States, and when we had already put an alert system in place due to the diganosis of Todd, a woman showed up to the hospital with a fever. Because she told us that she had come from Nigeria 3 days before, we put her in isolation immediately under surveillance for Lassa fever. Two days later, 2 of her children ,who we had been following daily, became symptomatic with fevers and were placed in isolation. 

As I stood in that mother's room trying to explain to her the significance of Lassa fever and the tears were silently falling from here face, I said to her, "Did you know that the fact that you are here at he Hospital of Hope in Mango is a miracle?! I am so happy you are here with us." 

I explained to her that it was only God's hand of mercy that after Todd's illness and death, Andrés visits to clinic and evacuation, along with her travel from Nigeria to our small town of Mango, we were able to identify her as a likely case of Lassa. If we never tested Todd's blood in Germany, if Andrés had not gotten ill, we would've never known or investigated  further. Had this woman gone to any other clinc or hospital in Togo, they would have never placed her in isolation and she could have continued to spread the virus, unknowingly, to others. Because of each step, in God's perfect timing, this woman and her two children are at the only hospital in Togo that currently has the potential life saving medicine to work against Lassa fever. What are the chances that this family left Nigeria to come to Togo and ended up here...at this time. 

Zero. That is, zero without a God whose hand of mercy stretches to the skies! I am confident that no other death could have sparked the response and timeline of discovering that Lassa fever was here in Togo. I am confident, that in no uncertain terms, Todd's death did make it possible for many others to keep theirs; others who have not yet heard the message of the Gospel; others who were either prevented from getting Lassa because of measures taken, or others who will now get a chance to be identified, cared for and treated. 

No one who knew Todd has any doubt that he is face to face with The Savior Jesus Christ, the Son of Man who "did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" Matthew 20:28 

And what further testimony can one give to show the love of Christ? "By this we may know that we are in him; whoever says he abides in Him must walk in the same way in which he walked." 1 John 2:5-6

But the final word cannot be about Todd or Andres. 

Nor can it be about Togo or the Hospital of Hope. 

"For by grace you have been saved, through faith. And this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God, not a result of works so that no one may boast." Ephesians 2:8-9

The story is the Story of Hope. And it continues on. It is the reason we are all here and we can't wait to see how Christ will use our weak, broken, mourning selves to carry on His message of joy, strength, and peace as we press forward. 

Please continue to pray for Togo and that Lassa fever will not spread any further. 

Please continue to pray for hope and healing our HOH team and the Dekryger family. 

Please pray for the Morales family as they continue their journey of healing in the US.  

see you soon

The battle we face here in Togo is often one of finding the peace and solitude among the peaks and valleys of the sovereignty of God--reconciling the unwavering truth of the The Gospel with the emotional waves one’s heart can ride upon during the storms.

I cry aloud to God, 

aloud to God, and he will hear me.

In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;

in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying

my soul refuses to be comforted.

When I remember God, I moan;

when I meditate, my spirit faints.

Our leader, our visionary, our friend Todd Dekryger lost his life to severe malaria and its complications on February 26 after arriving in Germany via an air medical evacuation. His amazing wife was by his side and wrote this amazing letter to us all in the short time that followed. There have been countless blog entries and articles honoring his life and death during the last week. Even as I type, I’m not exactly sure what is appropriate to share--what is there left to say…..

You hold my eyelids open;

I am so troubled that I cannot speak.

I consider the days of old, the years long ago.

I said, “Let me remember my song in the night;

let me meditate in my heart.”

Then my spirit made a diligent search;

“Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable?

Has his steadfast love forever ceased?

Are his promises at and end for all time?

Has God forgotten to be gracious?

Has he in anger shut up his compassion?”

Todd loved Peter, the disciple of Christ. Peter always said the wrong thing at the wrong time, yet he seemed to be the disciple that yearned to be closest to Christ despite his shortcomings. I believe that Todd was encouraged by that daily. The truth is that Todd wasn’t a superhero, as none of us are. Missionaries are often elevated up in Christian circles as being “larger than life” or spiritually superior. Todd would laugh out loud at that notion if he were still here. Todd was obedient to the Lord’s leading in coming to Togo, recruiting a massive team to help start a new hospital in the middle of a region lost without Christ. His invitations to join the Togo team were irresistible, as I experienced. After hearing Todd talk about Mango and the Hospital of Hope, you knew that the Lord was going to do great things whether or not you came...but you walked away not wanting to miss out on being a part of it.

There are too many things I could say about the week leading up to Todd’s death. The true miracles of how God made it possible to get Todd on the airplane to Germany. From the small rope attached to a semi-truck that had to pull our military ambulance 2 hours to reach the airplane after we had broken down on the side of the rode; the nurse that called a friend in Kara to meet us on the tarmac with 2 blood donation bags so that he could get transfused on the way to Germany, the fact that 2 of us bringing Todd to the airplane happened to have matching blood types…..

When the call came in the middle of the night that someone was coming to pick me up at a friend’s house and bring me to the hospital compound, I knew. But we rode in silence until we arrived at the Dekryger house. That dear missionary friend just turned around and embraced me. No words were necessary.

Then I said, “I will appeal to this,

to the years of the right hand of the Most High.”

The truth is that each day gets better. The truth is that each day is hard. Todd and I used to always laugh say, “If you die, I’ll kill you.” It was our way of letting each other know that we were in this for the long-haul. No matter who came and went, we were going to make sure that this hospital kept going. ISIS, Ebola, whatever. We were staying.

But the Lord had other plans. The Lord has other plans.

The nurse on the medevac plane was named Melanie, the name of Jennifer’s (Todd’s wife) mom. I thought it was such a sweet detail that the Lord orchestrated so that Jennifer could not feel so alone on that airplane ride. As we were loading Todd into the plane, I turned and noticed her eyes filled with tears. I knew she was overwhelmed by how sick Todd was. I knew she was overwhelmed by the thoughts that all of our hope was placed on her skills for the voyage to come. I took her by the shoulders and through my own tears said, “Thank you so very much. We can’t thank you enough. I know you are overwhelmed but it’s okay to feel weak. Christ’s strength is made perfect in our weaknesses. Our hope is in Him, not in you. It will be okay.”
She embraced me as if we were long-time friends unaware if we would see eachother again.

I will remember the deeds of the Lord;

yes, I will remember your wonders of old.

I will ponder all your work,

and meditate on your mighty deeds. 

Your way, O God, is holy.

What god is great like our God?

You are the God who works wonders;

you have made known your might among the peoples.

There are reasons why, as doctors and nurses, we are not supposed to care for people that we know. But on the mission field, there is little choice. Many of us took care of Todd during his illness which we needed, in order that we were making objective decisions and not emotional ones. Despite Todd’s death I don’t look back and second guess his treatment here or the timing of our decision to send him to Germany. This isn’t our pride in thinking what good doctors we are, but instead due to the hundreds of folks praying for us every day--praying that the lies of the enemy do not discourage and incapacitate us. The Hospital of Hope will continue on because this work was the Lord’s from the beginning. Todd was faithful to the work, but more importantly he knew that the Lord used imperfect people to proclaim the perfect and complete work of the Cross. He knew that compassionate medical care and healing was only half of the story. He knew how to love people, how to forgive and how to be forgiven. He knew that he would see Jesus face to face, and his work would be done.

We miss you friend, but the work here is not done. The Lord is still calling his lost sheep here in Mango and beyond. By God’s grace, we continue what you helped start. By God’s grace, we will see you soon.

Psalm 77

A Chance

As far as I know, Pediatric Leukemia has never been treated in Togo. During my first two years in Togo, we did not venture into the possibility of treating this illness. The cost, the duration, the availability of medications--it all seemed impossible. In the year 2014, a Pediatric Oncology group from the University of Louisville heard about Togo and how children diagnosed with leukemia are sent home without the hope of treatment. Directly after my presentation, the Chief of the Heme/Onc department approached me to say, "This is unacceptable. What do we need to do?".  After some headaches in finding the necessary medications and the long wait in finding a patient (many children with Leukemia are never appropriately diagnosed, or diagnosed and sent home, never making their way to us), a young 6 year old girl from our local town came into the hospital. She was diagnosed with High Risk ALL leukemia. Although our new protocol was in place, it wasn't what she needed for her advanced stages. Some adjustments were made to the protocol in order to try and give her a change at survival and treatment started. The entire hospital was learning together: New medications, safety protocols, Central Line education. The entire missionary team got involved with providing movies to watch, making her cards, bringing toys and games, learning to color. For about 5 weeks she was stuck in her room as she became the first child to be treated for leukemia in Togo. Meanwhile, our staff and chaplains tried to encourage her family through the hope of the Gospel.

Yesterday, we re-checked her Bone Marrow to determine if her first phase of chemotherapy was effective; it would determine whether she could go on with treatment or continue on with comfort measures only. We prayed and prayed that the bone marrow results would be clear, so that there would be no doubt as to which road to take. Under 5% meant that she could go on, the chemo worked. Over 20% meant that her response wasn't enough and giving more chemo wouldn't help her. The gray zone was what we prayed to avoid as it would be a battle of the unknown-- continue on with treatment knowing that our little resources might be used up without improving her survival, or stopping treatment when more could help. "Please Lord, be clear".

After a long wait, her bone marrow was complete: 26%. Our hearts were broken. Very broken. We had done more than we could and were sure that the Lord would "reward" us with our efforts and prayer for this sweet girl. We spoke with her parents and explained the results. We prayed with them and assured them that we would continue care for her so that she could have comfortable weeks at home, enjoying her brothers and sisters. We would see her each week and decide if she needs re-admittance to the hospital when the end comes.

You may be thinking, "that's why leukemia isn't treated in Togo."
I would say, "this is exactly why leukemia needs to be treated in Togo."

Every child deserves a chance of survival. In the cases where survival isn't possible, they deserve dignity in death and a hope that this world is not our home. Their families deserve to know what sickness has taken their child, and to make decisions as to how they are cared for until the Lord takes their child home. Nangeta will likely not make it to see spring, humanly speaking. But her and her family have now heard about the hope of Christ and that is never a waste.

One week before our results came in for Nangeta, a little 4 year-old boy, Martin, came to us with complaints consistent with a cancer diagnosis. After a few days it was evident that he, too, has leukemia. This time, a low risk ALL diagnosis--a very good survival rate.  In some ways it seems to be the Lord's confirmation that we need to continue on with our efforts in making sure these children are given a chance at life. In some ways, it's daunting to start down this road so soon after the crushing blow.

Please pray for Nangeta and her family and we continue to minister to them during a difficult time.
Pray for Martin and his family and he begins a difficult journey towards hopeful healing. Pray for continued partnerships that make treatments like this possible for the children of Togo, and thank you to everyone who has already given of their time, prayer and finances to lift us up.

"For as the Heavens are higher than the Earth, so are My ways are higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:9

To give directly towards helping children with cancer at the Hospital of Hope, go to www.abwe.org/give and use the account number 0763833-002.

grateful

I' m currently typing this post on an iPad mini during a very long wait in the Hong Kong airport. No one who knows me should be surprised that I showed up at noon after a calm but sad morning of good-byes only to find out that my actual flight had left 10 hours before. Always look closely at those pesky little am/pm letters after the time.  :-) My unexpected, extra 14 hours in the airport actually has provided some great "in-between worlds" reflection time as I leave one of the busiest, most populated cities on the earth to head back to the small under-developed world of Mango. I was here in Hong Kong to visit one of my dearest friends, Melanie. Her family moved to HK 8 years ago with the goal of planting churches while being a part of local community and life-- no mission boards, no supporters, just holding down jobs and family life (they have 5 children!!) while serving a city and culture that needs Jesus.

There's not a lot of insight I could give about HK culture and life that my 3 week visit could qualify me to say. There is a fascinating juxtaposition of tradition and cutting edge, conformatism and wide individualistic expression, British and Chinese influences- just a lot to soak in. I was able to attend a local church plant and see the amazing things happening. Although the purpose of my visit was purely to spend time catching up with an old friend, it was such an encouragement to see how others are loving the nations in the name of Christ. I think the beauty (and difficulty) of travel is that it's so easy to want to live and serve everywhere!
 I love Togo and have no current plans of leaving of course! But it doesn't take long to realize that the call of Christ is not to cities or farms, Africa or Asia, medical missions or sports ministry, but to everywhere. I feel at home in Togo because it's easy to feel at home when you're working side by side with people who want to serve Christ. I think it's possible to feel like that anywhere. You just have to choose a place- even if it's your home town.

I'm overwhelmed with gratitude that I was able to spend these last 3 weeks, including Thanksgiving,  with the Case family. The laughter and smiles alone could fill a lifetime. I'll look back on this time as evidence that the Lord is truly kind to have allowed it.

As I travel back to Togo, I'll be returning to some unrest in our town that we had hoped would've subsided by now. For many reasons I cannot go into too many details using this forum, but if you google anything about Mango, Togo you are sure to find a BBC or Reuters article about it. Our team, is safe but please pray for Mango as our town has a long, complicated history. Pray for peace along with complete healing of physical and emotional wounds that run deep.

Thank you to everyone who prays for our ministry and for me personally. I can't wait until we are together with the Savior for eternity~

RELIEF

 I'm not sure what can bring more universal comfort to people besides RELIEF. It's defined as the alleviation of pain, anxiety or distress.  Another definition said that it's a temporary break in a generally tense situation. For those of you who visit the blog regularly, I never want to give the impression that we are suffering 24/7, or that our days are always filled with sorrow. One missionary said today, "it's just that the peaks are so high, and the valleys so low." I'm not sure there is a better picture of life out here. Sometimes we are like the grass seeds underneath the desert sand, waiting for a drop of water so we can spring to life. And after the first rain of the season, you wake up to a field of green!

That's what the last few weeks have been like for our team, it seems. We had the amazing gift of a team from Springcreek Church (based in Wisconsin) come out for a visit. Among them were a pastor, a worship leader, Physical Therapist, 2 nurses, a doctor and a radiology technician. Somehow the Lord gifted them all with the ability to step into a place most of them had never been, and give rain! From the teaching to worship nights, to watching how 15 minutes with a Physical Therapist could change a Togolese woman's life--it was life giving.

Left lung filled with 3400 mL of blood (right). Xray after taking it all out! (left)

We've had some great cases of being able to provide relief for our patients as well. A young 20 year old Fulani man came in having been bit by a viper 2 weeks prior. He had sought treatment near his home but it wasn't quite enough and he progressively had trouble breathing. We obtained the Xray on the far right and found 3400mL of blood trapped between his lung and chest well (called a hemothorax)--that's as much as 14 cans of Coke....pressing in on his lung!! Needless to say, he was breathing much better afterwards and made a full recovery.



We are also full swing into rainy season, which unfortunately, is also malaria season. Sub-saharan Africa is home to 89% of all malaria cases and accounts for 91% of all malaria deaths. In the last year alone, the WHO estimates that there were 214 million cases of malaria with 438,000 deaths worldwide. Deaths from malaria here at HOH happen on a weekly, and sometimes daily basis and can bring a lot of discouragement. Most of these deaths are due to cerebral malaria--when the parasites enter the brain and cause seizures and swelling. The seizures can be very difficult to control and eventually the brain has enough. Children that do survive often suffer from some level of cerebral palsy afterwards. But sometimes we get to see kids in follow-up that recover with no long-term effects, like this cutie pie who was hospitalized for several days with cerebral malaria. Please continue to pray for many other children who are hospitalized at this very moment, fighting against this terrible illness. (our current number of in-patient children with severe malaria is 12!)

Coming in November I will also be getting some relief when I head out to Hong Kong on November 9-29th to visit a dear friend and her family! I have waited many years to go visit her in HK and I'm giddy with the idea that I'll be seeing her soon! Please pray for my travel and for the hospital staff who will have to fill in extra in my absence. Praise God for a Family doctor who will be coming to help during my 3 weeks away! Pray that she will not be overwhelmed and that the Lord would bless her and her family richly during their time here. 

Please pray that we can continue to provide relief here at the Hospital of Hope--physical, spiritual and emotional relief in times of suffering and great need.

36 hours

As you may know already, this past Tuesday evening brought us quite a surprise when a nurse came running to me to let me know that a woman had precipitously delivered a premature infant in the ward, and it was under her bed! I ran over to find an amniotic sac complete with the placenta exactly where she said. My immediate thought was "This baby is too premature, and dead." As I grabbed the still intact sac, the tiny life wiggled inside, to my shock and awe. I tore open the sac, (quite difficultly actually) and luckily a quick thinking nurse's aid had already tossed a clean blanket on the floor. A gasp for air and tiny cry that could only be heard within an 18 inch distance--this little girl was alive! Some appropriate panic followed, but soon enough our new little miracle was in an incubator and breathing on her own with the help of some oxygen.

Facebook posts went up about the crazy event and some of you may only be reading this blog now because of a "shared post". Many of you probably thought, "So how do you not know that someone is pregnant?!" To take you back to the beginning, this woman came in emergently around 5pm to our surgical clinic with a trapped umbilical hernia. Despite her reported 4 month pregnancy, and exam findings consistent with her report, she needed an operation now. The option was to pray that the stress of the operation didn't put her into labor. Durung the hours that followed, she complained of abdominal pain that was consistent with post-operative discomfort. Due to the timing of her surgery and shift changes, the nursing team was not yet aware of her pregnancy status. So, when she asked a nurses aid to help her off her bed in order to use the bedside commode, no one could anticipate what was coming next. I don't even think the mom herself knew what had happened since when I came running in to her, she was lying in her bed calmly, believing that "something had come out" from her surgery.

The little girl turned out to be about 27.5 weeks, just over the viable limit for us here. Her risk factors were many, but she looked strong and was obviously a fighter. We also had half the Facebook world praying by that time as the short story of her arrival travelled fast. How could she not do well? Surely the Lord was going to use this little one to show how strong and mighty He is! Surely even people thousands of miles away will be moved to see how amazing God is because this little miracle survived for years to come despite the odds!

About 36 hours later I got a call at home that our little girl suddenly wasn't breathing well, despite already being placed on CPAP-- the most airway support we can give here. I biked over to the hospital thinking that it might be a long day of creative airway support for her, but if we could make it over the next 24 hours, she would recover. She was awake and fiesty when I arrived, but her oxygen levels were low despite the nurses already doing everything right for her. The other pediatrician came and we looked at her brain with an ultrasound probe--left sided bleed--all too common in premies here and in the US. She would still grab my hand and open her eyes, but her struggle to breathe was evident. While another doctor spoke with the family, we made a last ditch effort to intubate her. Although we don't have ventilators I was hoping that a secure airway would help her and we could take turns bagging her for the da and evening to come.

But that was not to be.

The family took the news outwardly well which wasn't suprising. Families here often won't hold or name a child until they know he or she will survive. A long-standing cultural defense mechanism against the loss of too many babies for these women. I am still struggling with the loss and sorting through which are the effects of anger, embarrassment, humility, sorrow, and frustration.

Maybe I just wish she had a name.

In my selfishness of grief I think: what was 36 hours for? There will be no photo album filled with every passing hour of her short life, celebrated for years to come. No birthday remembrance every year on August 5th. Wouldn't it have been easier if that tiny, unbroken sac never jumped with signs of life? How did that glorify God?

I have never seen one of my Facebook posts get shared so many times as the other day. Some comments were promising to pray for her, some just marveling at the miracle if tiny life, and some giving me credit where none was due. But maybe some of you, for the first time, were considering the value of every life and acknowledging the power and wonder of God.  If that in the case, was her 36 hours of life worth it?

Was it worth it for God to allow that little life to touch you for 36 hours from 3000 miles away so that you might take a moment to recognize his power and might, his grace and kindness, his mercy and truth?

Out little girl does have a name, because God Himself knit her together in her mothers womb and numbered her days from the beginning of time. Maybe she will introduce herself to me when my life too comes to pass and the Lord takes me home. What a joyous day that will be.

Breathe

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.