I walked into a room with eight beds with white sheets and white mosquito nets over people’s heads. There were patients on every side. Lying before the window, there was this boy. The sun was shinning on him. All that was going through my head was I would love to see this boy playing outside and not stuck lying in this hospital bed.
Liz, John and I went to speak to this boy and encourage the family. When we began to meet with the family we noticed that this boy was bed bound. This boy could hardly drink and his ribs were showing. We asked what was wrong and our translator told us that he is crazy. Eventually the family told us that he is diagnosis with tuberculosis but he has other problems. Eventually they told us that his nickname in Swahili was the word problems.
This broke our spirits. No one should ever be called a problem. No wonder sickness has manifested in his life. No wonder Satan has used this to cause him to feel ashamed and alone.Words have power. It holds the keys to life and death.
As we continue to speak to the family the Lord gave me the name Aaron. I did not know what the name means. I remembered the story of Moses. Moses was chosen by God to bring deliverance to Israel but needed help and so God brought him his brother in-law Aaron. Aaron was called to be a mouthpiece for the Lord, to bring the message that God placed on Moses heart and he spoke it out.
I looked at this boy and saw a destiny. I saw something that no one else could see. LIFE. If only someone would take a second glance? Would he always be suffering the way he is? I pleaded with God to hear our cries for justice and mercy, to heal this boy, physically, emotionally and spiritually.
I went to visit him the again the next day. He was sitting up in his bed and looked a lot better. A lot more of his family was there and God gave them a message to hear, to not to give up on this child. We asked what he enjoys and what makes him happy and they said music. As a team we began to sing “I could sing of your love forever� and while we were singing he was nodding his head.
As I looked at him, I noticed the lack of eye contact and verbal responses. This child is not crazy but has autism. Over the years I have worked with children and adults with autism and know the signs of this disorder. This broke my heart. I hate labels as they are. I want the best for this child. What I hate about autism is that it steals a person’s life; they are trapped in their mind and cannot escape.
In America at least a child with autism would get some of the help they need. While this child suffers in this hospital bed and is called crazy and nicknamed problem. What gives me hope is that God called him Aaron which means mountain of strength.
