Have you ever been so hungry you couldn’t eat? Most of us would say no and would even doubt it possible. The natural reaction to hunger is to eat, so it makes sense that when really hungry, we would want even more. I learned recently that’s not always the case.
A team that was here was walking home from ministry one day and went past a young man they thought was dead, so lifeless was his frail body, lying in the street one morning. Hours later, upon discovering he was actually still alive (though barely), the team prayed for him while offering water and food. He refused both, and didn’t make any sense in anything he said, unable to even give his name consistently (Taiwan and Davidsba are just 2 of the names he has claimed, and I go by Davidsba). They got a staff member to bring him back to the base, which is where I saw him for the first time – he was skinnier than a holocaust victim from Schindler’s List, covered in gray muck, and mostly just staring in one direction not responding to anything around him. He wore only a filthy pair of purple track pants he must’ve been wearing for months, and the shape of every bone in his body was clearly outlined against a thin layer of skin and nothing more. In 100 degree weather he was ice cold to the touch.
I took him to the hospital with a couple of translators – he was very skittish so we couldn’t get him to move from the bed of the truck into the cab and it was starting to rain, so we covered him in a tarp to keep him dry. When I got to the hospital I felt like I was uncovering the carcass of an animal as I pulled the tarp off him. Once in the medical tent and many attempts with a needle they had an IV in him getting him some fluid. Once he was getting that, he fell asleep and I prayed over him for a solid hour or more. He was (obviously) very malnourished, but the hospital couldn’t do more than fill him with fluids and glucose, so the final questions loomed – What can we do for him? Where do we take him?
After some praying and deliberation we decided that taking him to an orphanage run by a pastor that also happens to be a doctor would be the best option, and the pastor agreed to take him in. We took Davidsba from the hospital to the orphanage, talked to the pastor, and opened the door to let Davidsba out of the truck (he’d gotten inside after the hospital). He took one look at the orphanage and the pastor and all the children waiting at the gate, then with a determination and singleness of thought we hadn’t seen him express he turned and marched down the street away from the orphanage.
I was very aware that I couldn’t force him against his will to enter, to eat, to drink, or to trust. Grabbing him by the arm and forcing him to go would only mean he’d try to leave again. The translators were following him, trying to convince him with words that this was a good place. I did the only thing I could think to do – I jogged out in front of him, and as he tried to push past me I just put my arms around him and held him in place. I could feel him pushing against me with what little strength he had – at one point in his life I think he would’ve been able to knock me aside with ease but his own body had eaten away all his muscle. I could feel the bones of his chest pressing against my own, but I could also sense the pause in him as I held him. He was pushing, but not fighting. I began saying simple words to him – food, home, safe – and the translators did the same. And in that moment I knew the struggle within him was one we all face – our natural self hungers just as greatly for God as his body hungered for food, but somewhere along the line, after looking to the wrong things to fill the hunger for so long, we convince ourselves we don’t need it or that it’s not available. So when it’s offered we run the other way. We fight what is good for us, fight to not be cared for, fight to hold on to the death we’re destined for. God won’t force us to sit and eat because we’d rebel all the more if He did. But while we are still fighting against Him He holds us and speaks words of truth to us until we choose to take the smallest of chances that maybe what He says is right. I realized his physical destitution is the same as our spiritual destitution.
Davidsba eventually relented, returned to the orphanage, and when I left that night he was mechanically lifting spoonful after spoonful of rice and beans to his mouth. He still can’t communicate, and often doesn’t comprehend what’s going on, but he’s getting prayer and food. Please pray for him, he has a long road to recovery ahead.
