The World Race is coming to an end for me, with less than 2 weeks on the mission field. It's a time full of reflection as I sit and think about all the ways God has spoken, and moved in my life and through the people around me. When I think about missions and people going out into the world to share the gospel, I think of miraculous healings and people coming to know Jesus by the dozens or hundreds and lots of "shock and awe" kinds of things. Then I look at my year gone past, I don't regret it or wish it were any different, it just doesn't look like that. At all. My race ended up being more wrestling with God on some of my core beliefs and him shaking me awake to the reality of the calling he has placed over my life. Big miraculous things just didn't happen for me, at least not in the physical. And I'm okay with that.
When I came on the race, I wanted to learn to better love people unconditionally and have compassion and a broken heart of the "least of these". God started this early on in the race when I was traveling from Lilongwe, Malawi back to our ministry site in Senga Bay. While a taxi was driving us to the bus station in Lilongwe, I caught a glimpse of a woman so crippled that she walked on all fours, and still, she had a child wrapped up in a chitenge on her back. Something inside me begged to stop and help her somehow, but I didn't know what to do or how to react. I watched her, but said nothing, the taxi kept moving and the lady vanished from sight. God was reaching out to her that day and I did nothing. The conviction has never left me since.
Fast forward 8 months, and I still see glimpses of that woman in my mind from time to time, asking God, "Please don't allow me to let another one of your children go unnoticed like that again." Now, we're past the half-way point in our month in Nepal, and the race is quickly winding down. We are in a highly "touristy" in Pokhara, Nepal where trekking and other adventure sports are all over the place. We live near Lakeside, which is the tourist hub of the city. I notice how few homeless there are, in fact, I've only seen two. One man in particular caught my eye and my heart. He wore a worn black puff jacket, rolled up pants, sandals, a dirty beanie on his head and a roll of blankets hanging from a rope on his shoulder. He was visibly crippled, having trouble using his right leg and using a bamboo "cane" to walk with.
Over the weeks, I saw him twice and on one particular occasion, I saw him while seated in a restaurant. He was limping by when he stopped and turned to look into the restaurant. For a few minutes, he stood, not even really looking at me or anyone else… just looking in. I didn't know what to do but study him for a moment until he turned to keep walking. What I noticed then and remember most from that moment is the longing in his eyes and posture. A day or two later, I woke up with the memory of that man and I just couldn't get away from it. I knew God was once again reaching out to one of his children and he wanted me to do something about it. I didn't know what that was or how that was going to look, but I knew I couldn't ignore the pull anymore. I knew God was going to give me another opportunity to meet him and I had to do something.
Later that day, my teammate Mandi were visiting the local sights, which also happened to all be places of Hindu worship. We were climbing some stairs to the stupa, or Peace Pagoda, when I heard singing, or chanting. We came up on a man sitting on the steps and as we approached, he put his palms together in the Namaste hand gesture. He didn't beg or ask for anything, I just stooped down to meet him and ask if he was OK and he began to show me his left leg. It was visibly crippled and shorter than his right leg and part of his quadracept muscle was missing. In broken English, he tried to explain of some accident that left his leg, hip and stomach scarred and crippled. He had surgery several times, but had run out of money to continue seeking medical attention. Mandi and I introduced ourselves and he said his name was Moti (sp). I reached out to shake his hand and Mandi recalled him having such a grateful look in his eyes that someone would even care to touch him. I told him I was Christian and asked if I could pray for him. He said "I'm Hindu, but sure, if you want." So I laid hands on him and began to pray, and as I did, he started his mantra (he doesn't know any better). He wasn't instantly healed after praying for him, so immediately, I think do I do something wrong? Does God always respond to our prayers with miraculous and instantaneous healing? Certainly not, despite what we think or want. But, if God has put this man in my path (literally), knowing that I would stop and pray for him, would He not react or move in some way, even if it's in a way that is not visible? I believe "Yes."
After this encounter, I thought, "Okay, I thought I'd be meeting the man in the black jacket today." Maybe this is it? Later that night, after grabbing dinner with Mandi and Katherine, we were walking back to our hostel when we passed, you guessed it, black jacket man! He was hobbling along as usual. Katherine asked "Isn't that the guy you wanted to talk to?" and then I had the strangest and most sudden conflict in my mind. I wanted to help him, but at the same time, I didn't. Kind of a crappy thing to say coming from a missionary that's been on the field for a year, huh? Yeah. Thankfully, we did decide to go back and talk to him, and I'm glad we did!
We approached and asked if he spoke English, but it was quickly apparent that he couldn't speak at all. He only responded in head nods and groans. Not only was his right leg crippled, but he didn't have the use of his right arm either, so it was pretty obvious he had had a stroke or some kind of brain damage that left him without the ability to speak and his right side more or less useless. We started playing our game of "Charades" to try and communicate and tried to ask if he was hungry, and when he appeared to respond in the affirmative, the girls went to find and bring him back some food. Meanwhile, I stayed with him. He was probably confused, and starting walking again. Not really knowing what to do (again) I felt the Lord say "Just walk with him." So we walked. Slowly. He hobbled along at a snail's pace. People passed us looking at him, then me. Some people gave him a little money now and then. A shop owner came out to give him some money and started talking to him in Nepali. I told the owner that I had friends coming to bring the man food, so he told him to sit down while we waited for the girls to come back. We slowly made our way back a few feet to a place where he could sit. I sat down on a low wall around a tree and patted the concrete next to me, inviting him to join me, and he did. As we sat in silence, I looked him over wondering how I could serve him. He only watched people pass by. I put my hand on his knee and started praying out loud for him. Again, he didn't jump up and start speaking in tongues, but he seemed curious at what I had done. He pointed to his right side extremities and seemed to try and explain what happened, counting to four on his hand. Perhaps he had some accident 4 years ago that caused his condition, so I continued to pray. He still wasn't healed, but what I hoped for more than anything was that something more meaningful was happening to his heart, where the eyes cannot see. We continued to sit together, and I wondered if there was anything else I could do for him. Again, I heard God say "Just sit with him." I began to get the picture in my mind that I was sitting with Jesus.
Matthew 25:40 NIV – “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
We often put an expectation on ourselves that if we are serving the kingdom, that we need to immediately see a result in the physical to let us know that we're a good Christian. Understanding God and his inner workings, why he chooses to do certain things and not do other things leaves us puzzled and often confused. In this case, I choose to believe that just because I didn't see any physical changes in either of the men I prayed over that day, that God didn't do something. God put this man in the black jacket on my heart in a big way and had me convicted to act. When I act and "see" nothing, I have faith that what God wanted to do in that man's life that day was nothing physical, but more likely sow or tend a seed that will not by my harvest, but someone else's down the road. Sometimes, we want to be the one who reaps the harvest so we can pat ourselves on the back and say, 'Look what I did' when most of the time, all God wants us to do is sprinkle a little life giving water on something sprouting as we pass by.
Earlier in Matthew 25, in verse 35-36, it doesn't say anything about healing people. It talks about caring for people and meeting them and loving them right where they're at, not big showy miracles. Communion with God, and his people, isn't as much about words or even actions as long as we do those things out of selfish ambition. Sometimes, words need not be spoken, but simply sitting or walking in silence can show love.
