As many of you know, I spent the last four days in the hospital here in Nepal. I had started getting sick to my stomach 24 hours prior, and just thought it was another bout with something I had eaten. I thought “it’ll pass.” However, after a sleepless night with severe stomach pain and many trips to the bathroom, I realized that the odds of me participating in ministry the next day were slim to none. I was mad. I already had to miss three days of ministry in India due to being sick, and I was not about to willingly miss more in Nepal. See, I don’t get sick in the states, and if I do it’s a simple sinus infection, nothing that prevents me from continuing on with normal life. As my squad mates left for ministry, I was exhausted and defeated realizing I was being held back once again from doing what I came on the race to do, ministry. I spent the day going back and forth between the bathroom and bed, getting weaker and weaker with every trip. As my squad mates returned, a fellow team leader, Michelle, said she thought I needed to go to the hospital. I was still in denial. Then one of our squad leaders, a nurse in the states, said she though it was a good idea as well, and I knew it was time to go. (It is an all squad month, so all 55 of us are staying in one house and participacting in ministry together.)
Me and one of my other squad mates who was also sick headed to the hospital with two other people from our teams (in case we got released at different times we could travel back in pairs). The ride seemed like and eternity, and as soon as we walked in the door I made a bee line back to the bathroom while my teammate Sarah, also a nurse in the states, started my paperwork. The anxiety built. I was afraid because I didn’t know what was happening with my body, but I did know that I was dehydrated which meant I was about to have needles stuck into my body. We all know I don’t handle that well. “I don’t need another reason to vomit,” I thought. I don’t remember much about else about that night except for telling Sarah repeatedly, “I don’t want to do this,” and squeezing her hand as they put the IV in. I did my best to sleep that night as I was exhausted in every way, but had little success.
For the next four days, I made countless trips to the bathroom and back, was pumped full of IV fluids, painkillers, and anti-nausea meds, took the maximum amount of Imodium allowed, listened to the sound of hospital construction during the day, and had many nurses wake me up during the night to take my vitals and such. Exhausted is and understatement and so is defeated. Just the thought that I was missing the part of ministry that I was most excited for entering the race, working with victims of human trafficking and prostitution, and an adventure day that included bungee jumping added to the feelings of defeat. All of this on top of still processing some news from home seemed impossible to get through. When it rains, it pours seemed to be the theme of the week.
I was just plain scared. Before this week, I had never been admitted to any hospital for anything in my life. I felt like the pain might never end, and like I may never stop vomiting. By this point the doctor decided that shots of phenergan were the next course of action, which helped in the long run, but I knew would only make it worse in the moment. So, after each blood draw and shot, I cried and vomited more. The nurses never understood, and I tried my best to be nice in the midst of my frustration. “God I know you are the ultimate healer, so please bring your healing now.” I lost count of how many times I prayed this prayer over the last few days. I saw several other squad mates get admitted and released while I was still stuck there, feeling awful.
When I had enough sense to stop being angry and focus on the big picture, I thought about the ministry leading up to my illness. We had just returned from doing ministry in the slums, where we visited people in the homes and played with kids. We found a man who was a Christian and went to his home where he proceeded to tell us about how before he knew Christ he was a Hindu and abusive alcoholic. He worships God now, but does so in a manner eerily similar to the way one worships Hindu gods. My team and I prayed for him and I prayed for freedom for him in the way he worships the Lord. Then, we went back to a house that our teammate felt compelled to stop at first. We found our teammate inside talking to two men and by the end of that conversation, we prayed a new brother into the kingdom. As we prayed, the man whose home we had just come from, entered this house and told us that they were cousins. Now they can walk this journey with the Lord together. I prayed that together they could defeat the false worship of hinduism and instead of simply putting Christ in the place of Hindu gods, they would seek him and experience life in the spirit to the full. I prayed John 10:10 over them repeatedly. As we left, we played with more of the slum kids. Their laughs are unforgettable, so beautiful they brought tears to my eyes. I wouldn’t take back the experiences of that day for anything.
How could I be so mad, when these were the experiences of the day I got sick? Gaining a new brother is worth it. Laughing with those kids is worth it. All the pain, and spiritual warfare surrounding the events of the last four days means nothing compared to the work of the kingdom that happened that day. We do it all for his kingdoms cause. Sometimes going to “every tribe, every tongue, and every nation” means encountering bacteria our bodies aren’t equipped to fight off, and subsequently winding up in the hospital for four days. In comparison to the light shown in the darkness, and the hope brought to the broken that day, this sickness is nothing.
So yes, it sucked in the moment. Yes, I was scared, exhausted, frustrated, and defeated. However, in the grand scheme of the kingdom, I wouldn’t take that day in the slums back for anything. I simply needed the Lord to bring my eyes back into focus on him, and for his healing hand to be in the process of getting better. Just because it took four days and not four minutes to heal doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. He ordained that doctor to be on my case, and he was faithful in bringing healing through medicine. He turned my gaze back toward heaven and put the situation into the perspective I needed. For that, I am eternally grateful.
Thank you for the continued prayers as I continue to recover and regain energy. I should be able to go back to ministry tomorrow. We have a few days of bar ministry, a couple rest days, and a week of trekking to remote villages to share the gospel here in Nepal before we head to Vietnam. My team and I will be doing coffee shop ministry with a focus on friendship evangelism in Vietnam next month. We are excited to finish our time here in Nepal strong and move on to month 3 of 11!
