Traveling around the world, I KNEW people would think white people are full of money. Even people who’ve never stepped foot off American soil warned me about this. And for the most part it’s true. People do think we’re loaded and we honestly do have more money then many places in the world (Although, I’m not sure if we actually have more money or if we just buy things we can’t afford). But there’s a fine line between “having more money” and “having a winter home in Switzerland and a yacht in Monaco.”. . .and many people overseas can’t seem to tell the difference. We’re all millionaires in their eyes. We’ve been told that it’s actually a real problem in Africa. Walking down the road, going into town, even some relationships people have built with people, we hear a continuing phrase that literally sickens me, “Give me money.” Sometimes that’s all they learn to say in English.
It’s not the fact that they’re poor and do need money, or that I think they don’t need money, and I’m not saying you should never give at all (that’s where prayer and following the Spirit comes in). It’s that they seem to think that that’s where our value lies: in giving money or gifts. We feel used. We feel guilt. We feel misunderstood. I wish I could communicate with them that we came to give them something BETTER. I remember Bill Swan telling us at training camp that often the faults we find SO repulsive in others are usually because they’re in ourselves. Ha! What a dumb thing to say. . .too bad he’s right:/ I cringed as I prayed, “Am I like this with You, Lord?” So many times I look at what the world has to offer and say to God, “Give me a job. Give me a car. Give me money.” Instead of listening, open minded to The Lord and seeing that He has something better.
Most Americans are consumed with consumption because we have the money and means to do so, while most third world countries are left with the fantasy of consumption and the idea that it can bring happiness. Even Christians. We want all the fame and glory of the world and a “pat on the back” walk with The Lord, when frankly trying to mix the two is like mixing water and oil. Not that there is guilt in giving gifts or owning nice things, and not that God doesn’t want to give us gifts, but sometimes He says no, even when what you’re praying for lines up with the Word and what you believe to be His will.
On Fridays, our team walks across the road to a rural village. We meet this woman there and take mud and help her build her house. These days have been some of my favorites and may have filled my fantasy dreams of coming to Africa. Not just because we may have “accidentally” smeared more mud on each other than the walls, or because there’s dozens of adorable village kids we played with, sang songs with, and held, but mostly because of Grace. Not the concept. We met an actual woman named Grace.
The first Friday we came, we walked over with a trail of children from the village behind us. Before we started working on the house, I remember seeing Grace, a 70 year old woman, sitting down on a mat. One wrinkled, life worn leg stretched out before her and the other swollen from an infection all the way up to her thigh. She told us that she had pain in her neck and back as well. Our nurses told her that she needed an anti biotic and we proceeded to go to the house to help build it. As we scraped mud on the walls, I couldn’t help but feel that my faith felt so shallow in that moment. Did I really come all the way across the world to give them money or tell them they need an antibiotic? I just know there’s something BETTER. Jesus even goes so far as to tell the Samaritan woman that He has something better than actual water, that will never make us thirsty again (John 4:14). I knew I was supposed to pray for her. Pictures of the door from Malaysia kept flashing through my head as I remembered my refusal to pray and the girls sudden death.
The next Friday, we walked to the village and there was Grace on the mat again. I sat next to her and saw that her leg was still swollen. I felt so paralyzed and scared to ask if we could pray for her. She wouldn’t even understand it. She can’t speak English. I could feel my heart pounding through my ears and again saw pictures of the door from Malaysia flashing through my head. “Ok, God. No matter what you do with this, I know that you are good and I can say, I was faithful this time.” I turned to my team mate and asked if we could pray and then asked our translator if that was ok.
And then we prayed. I’ve seen God heal people before. I know that He can heal, that He wants to heal, and that there is power in the name of Jesus. I also am aware that there is no power in my hands or words alone, so I was completely relying on The Lord. I asked God what to say, where to put my hands, everything all in the name of Jesus. We stopped and started talking to our contact again and then I knew we needed to pray again. So, we prayed again. We sang songs God gave us, we rubbed her leg, we prayed in tongues, and then we stopped. It wasn’t long before I heard God say to pray again. This time I saw a picture of Him washing her feet. I asked my team leader if that was weird and if it would be ok if I washed her feet. So they brought a bucket out and we poured some of our water from our water bottles. Our team went inside to help build the house and Chelsea and I prayed and washed her feet. We were out there for what seemed like forever. I could feel my heart breaking for her, seeing how much God loves her. We finished praying and then asked someone to translate as we explained why we washed her feet. I told her we wanted to do this to show her how much God loves her. I told her God sees her, she never escapes Gods mind, he hasn’t forgotten her.
We asked God if we should stay and keep praying or if we should go help with the house and we heard to leave. As we walked back I wanted to crawl into Gods lap and cry. Not because I was angry that he didn’t heal her or thought He wasn’t good. Not once while I was praying did I question His goodness, His love for her, or that He asked me to pray. My heart was broken cause I know Gods is. How long has He had to watch the world and all His children hurting and crying out for help? How long has he heard us yelling angrily at him? How long has he watched us shake our fists at Him? I remember when I was in Nepal doing disaster relief, I witnessed to a Muslim woman who hated Jesus because she was so malnourished, she couldn’t even breast feed her own child. I watched as her baby squirmed and cried for milk and she tried passing him to me multiple times. I remember asking God, “Is Your heart not breaking yet? I know mine is.”
His heart IS broken. He knows that nothing satisfies eternally other then Him and He’s good enough to not give us what we want all the time and let us be angry and confused at Him. It’s so hard for us to get our heads out of our own flesh and humanity and realize that pain is not necessarily the absence of love. I broke my arm when I was little and if I hadn’t had any pain, I never would have known I needed to go to the doctor. Pain actually has a value. Even emotional pain and brokenness. I strongly believe that I never would have met the Father who healed my hurt if I had never had the hurt to begin with.
So I don’t know why God didn’t heal Grace that day though He asked us to pray. Maybe, He’s using this to hold her close. Maybe He may heal her in the future, or maybe He’s using this pain to finally bring her home to Him and physically hold her in His arms. God is this crazy, exotic, too good to be true puzzle piece that I’m slowly putting together. I could go on and on of all the different parts of His character He’s shown me this year. One thing is for sure, God isn’t a vending machine that you can drop prayer coins into and gifts pop out. And if that’s how we view Him, we’re missing the biggest gift of all. Money really doesn’t make the world go round. It can’t and won’t fix all the worlds problems. Medicine won’t heal everyone. Food won’t even satisfy everyones stomachs. But God will. He’s the BETTER that we can show the world.
So yeah, this is such a rabbit trail, but if you have a walk with The Lord and have tasted and seen that He is good and haven’t said “thank you” . . .maybe you should say “thank you.”
He has called me higher,
Jenn
