Tears rolled down my face as I thought back upon the morning’s events. Sadness rippled through my body, knowing that so many people are experiencing pain and suffering that I know nothing of. Knowing that there is nothing I can do to ease their pain. The pain they’ve been holding onto for generations. Pain that is digging deeper in their hearts more and more everyday. Hearts that need a touch from Jesus. Hearts that need someone to tell them that it’s okay to hurt. That it’s okay to be angry. To hold them while they cry. To tell them someone loves them like they’ve never been loved before. Someone who understands more than they can imagine. Someone who experienced pain so great in order to take theirs from them, because His love for them is so insane. His love is healing, freeing, overwhelming.
As we wandered from door to door in the little village nestled in the tree filled mountains, I wondered what my purpose was there. I felt hesitant to reach out. Fearing I might not have the words, that I might be turned away; yet I wanted to bring light into the lives of these people who’s hurt is as real as mine, who’s feelings mean as much as mine, who are loved as much as I am.
I began to pray. I prayed for God to speak to these people through us. I prayed for open hearts. Lives touched. I prayed for God to bring healing to the broken. Comfort to the hurting. Redemption to the lost.
I longed to hold these people. To make their hurt disapear. To bring love and joy into their lives.
I cried to God my words becoming more eager, more urgent.
We were given insight into their lives throughout the day. Learning why they blamed their suffering on God. They have no jobs, their crops were ruined by rain. Alcohol has its grip on these communities. Children run around dirty with battered clothes because all their money goes towards drowing their sorrows.
God knew what I needed and led me to a precious 86 year old woman. I hesitantly stepped into the little room, following after Orshi(one of the girls from church that were taking us through the villages). I stepped into the tiny kitchen and my eyes settled on Omaria leaned over a table shelling peas with her tiny, bent fingers. Smiling at her, I began to help. With the help of Esther (another one of the girls from church), we quickly finished the job. Omaria mentioned that she was sick when I asked her if we could help with anything else. Thanks to the girls who translated, we were able to have a small conversation. I asked if I could pray for her and was quickly taken up on the offer. I prayed ferverently to God to bring healing upon her and overwhelm her with His abundant love. And then I just hugged her.
Before I left, I told her she was beautiful and that God loved her so very much. I left a little peice of my heart behind. I wanted to stay and care for this woman. I Wanted to love this child of God until she couldn’t possibly receive anymore.
Please keep these hurting people in your prayers.
