Walking through, I couldn’t help but think the term hospital
was a contradiction to what I was seeing. People crammed into a room with just
their bed and a table. No monitors. No medical equipment really. Urine, feces, and blood are left to dry
on the floors. I asked myself, and God, do they come here to just get worse?
That’s what it looks like.
We started ministry this month with hospital visits. It’s
been the first ministry that has forced me to look straight into humanity and
injustice. The first hospital we went to is apparently in the top 5 of best
hospitals in Tanzania. I stood there, astounded by the state of each patient
lying in a bed. Each person we talked to felt like added 10 pounds to my heart.
The first room we went into, 4 of the guys we talked to were
handcuffed to their beds. They were criminals. We had gotten to the last guy,
when the police officer came in and told our translator that we had to ask
permission first. He also haughtily informed us that we shouldn’t be praying
for them, as they were criminals. That was a hard pill to swallow, seeing as to
how we are all criminals and are in need of prayer. Despite the officer’s
opinion, we prayed for the last prisoner.
We then came to this man who looked hopeless. He looked to
be suffering with HIV, but only said he was having chest pains. His skin was
peeling and he had sores around his mouth. I asked if we could pray for him, he
agreed. I placed my hand on his knee and started to pray. I couldn’t close my eyes;
I think God wanted me to see the depravity of this man. Even though we were
praying, he moved away from my touch and it looked like any hope left in him
was just draining from him. I started crying for him, praying, pleading, that God
would give this man hope. Over and over, my prayer for this man was hope. The
room grew silent and everyone was listening to the broken prayer. Our
translator and teammate laid hands on me in order to comfort me, which was
humbling. But all I heard God say was “are you still going to pray for him even
though it looks like all hope is lost?�
We went onto another room. And by the end of the visit, it
had emotionally maxed me out. It’s exhausting to be submerged into this
depravity. The hard part was when we were leaving. All I could think of was
that I get to leave. Honestly, if I ever get to the state of the people I had
just met, I could go home to better care. The care, or lack thereof, of these
people is all they have. It’s all they know. It really makes you think about
your life and the things that really matter. Really it humbles me to know just
how good I have it…
