I came on the race thinking I was going to be fearless, that I’d be invincible and untouchable. I thought that I “had enough faith to keep me healthy” and that nothin’ could touch me.
I was mistaken.
May 19th I started feeling low, and a week later I was in the hospital sobbing like a baby. Needles were not what I thought I’d been signing up for when I came to Africa. After the simplest of pin pricks and laughing at myself for being so dramatic, I curled up in the waiting room chairs and waited for a lab test, the results you already knew – malaria. I cried and laughed and cried again, received medicine, and thought that that was the end of it. I spent a week in bed, finished the drugs, and expected to be able to bounce back.
After two weeks of still not feeling better, I went back to the hospital, even though days earlier I’d been declared malaria free by the same doctor who diagnosed me. I was tired of being in bed, two weeks had driven me off the walls, and I was ready to have energy. I was hoping they were going to tell me I was just still recovering, but instead, they told me I had malaria again, and this time it was worse.
I sat in that waiting room and fell apart. I was with two of my teammates, also diagnosed with malaria, but for the first time. I cried as the doctor wrote me a prescription for medicine that was apparently going to make me more sick before I’d get better. I cried at the pharmacy getting the drugs, and when we got into the taxi to go home, I sobbed. Joey held me close and let me cry, she wasn’t feeling good either, but she knew I needed to be held.
I didn’t understand why God was letting me be this sick. Why would he bring me all the way to Africa to spend the whole month in bed with this sickness? I doubted his purpose for me, and my faith was shaken. I got home and received an email about the lack of safety and security in Burkina Faso, the country we were scheduled to go to in a week, and after reading through the email, I felt a pull to email AIM and ask them why we were still going to a country that had been issued a Travel Warning by the US Gov.
A few days later it was announced that we were no longer going to be traveling to Burkina Faso to do ministry due to the unsafe situation, and that we’d be staying in Ghana. I wish I could tell you that I spent those few days before knowing where we’d be peacefully, healing and trusting God to take care of everything, but instead I spent it anxious, sick to my stomach, and not really getting any better. The second round of Malaria was brutal, attacking my organs and my muscles. The medicine did what they said it would – made it worse. There was a night I passed out on the bedroom floor, nights of nausea and tears, there was a night where I felt like I was going to die. I felt like I had been deserted by God, and I wanted to go home.
I texted my parents every day keeping them updated on my health and expressing my anxiety and how horrible I felt. All they could do was encourage me to press on, not to worry and to trust that God would be with me through it all. I said “yes yes, I know he’s with me but I’m dying I need to come home.” Not once did they look up flights or tell me that it was okay to give up, instead they told me if I needed to be home they’d get me home but that it wasn’t to that point yet. “Hang in there,” and “rest and get better,” were their words, and even though they were right, I was going crazy.
The ironic thing about all of this is that through it all, I’ve been reading the beginning of the Old Testament. In the last six weeks I’ve read through Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. Over and over again, after being liberated from Egypt and saved from slavery, the Israelites doubt God’s faithfulness and provision. They whined and cried out why have you brought us out of Egypt to die here in the wilderness alone? Each time, God provided for them, he heard their cries, and even though they really didn’t deserve it, he helped them. Moses constantly was pleading to the Lord on behalf of the people, asking God to give them mercy even though they really didn’t deserve it.
A few nights ago I was reflecting on one of those stories, where Moses pleaded to God to show them mercy because they were just flawed humans. If I’d been God, I think I would have just killed the Israelites by now, because of how little faith they had. Then it dawned on me that I was exactly like the Israelites.
I’m the first to express how faithful God is when everything is okay in my life. Even at the beginning of this journey when I began fundraising, I was proclaiming how faithful He was. It was hard, too, at first, to get the funds I needed, then they began to come in steadily, and I even more joyfully expressed my gratitude and how good He was to me! Even through the flooding in Peru I clung to his promises, even though I watched people’s lives crumble around me, I was okay, He was faithful, it was all okay.
Then I got malaria not once but twice, and I felt the closest to death that I’ve ever felt (dramatic, yes, but not untrue) and suddenly my “unshakeable” faith was shaking. I passed out, and when I woke up I had no recollection of where my mind had been for the last ten minutes, and I experienced what I’d describe as oblivion. Nothing-ness. It scared me. It made me doubt everything. I wondered why God would let me get this sick, why he called me to Africa if I was going to be sick the whole time. I worried that I wouldn’t get better, that I’d just not wake up one day because my organs were overtaken by the parasites and that I’d just cease to exist, that I’d never make it out of Africa, that I’d never get home or get to marry Freddy and on and on my brain spiraled. I paced back and forth waiting for news from the organization about where we were going or not going, and I had no peace. I had no patience. I was sick, I missed home, I missed the comfort of having a reliable hospital nearby (not a luxury to be had here) and I was ready to throw in the towel.
As I sat in bed reflecting a few nights ago, it dawned on me that I am exactly like the Israelites, and if I were God I’d kick me to the curb so fast. Then I was hit with the bus-sized realization that I am not God, and that God is far greater, far wiser, and far more sovereign than I could ever fathom. Time and time again, He has forgiven me for my failures, for my weaknesses, and over and over again in my weaknesses, He has proven stronger, greater and more faithful than I can imagine. I realize that when the day comes that I am healthy again and I reflect on my time in Africa, I want to do so knowing that I handled myself well, that I relied on God and that I didn’t doubt His purpose for me. Unfortunately, I did fail, and I let stress and anxiety take over. Thankfully, my time here is not over. We have more time in Ghana than planned because we are no longer going to Burkina Faso, so my chance is not gone.
I’m learning. I’m just some clay on a great big potter’s wheel, and God is working me, shaping me, growing me and teaching me. I sometimes fail, but that’s the beauty about all this, God is far greater than I, and even though I would have given up on me by now, God will never. He is faithful through the hard stuff, even malaria. Just like Moses pleaded for God to show the Israelites mercy, Jesus did the same for me when he paid the price for my sin and doubt and weakness. Because of Jesus, my promised land is unconditional, no matter my strengths or weakness.
I am redeemed and I’m giving this “rest and have peace” a second go.
“I love those passages in Scripture where Jesus teaches the disciples something, saying “I want to teach you to think differently about life” They walked with Him for years, and some of them didn’t learn everything they needed to know until after He’d gone back to heaven. Yet, even though they were slow to learn, they still referred to themselves as His beloved. Failure is just part of the process, and it’s not just okay, it’s better than okay. God doesn’t want our failure to shut us down, God didn’t make it a “three strikes and you’re out” sort of thing. It’s more about how God helps us dust ourselves off so that we can swing for the fences again. And all of this without keeping a meticulous record of our screw-ups.”
Bob Goff, Love Does
Ways To Pray
My team is moving into a two week phase on the race where our ministry and life will be “spirit led”. The next two weeks we have no place to stay (yet) and no ministry planned (yet). On Sunday my team of 6 girls and our squad leader Luis will head out on our own to find our own place and our own ministry. Please pray for unity in all we do and decide as a team, and pray that our malaria is gone!!
We fly out of Africa on the Fourth of July, pray that I do not wish these next two weeks away, and that the Lord will reromanticize my heart for Africa and the people here.
Today, June 15th, marks the exact halfway point of my time on the race! Praise God that we’ve come this far!! Praying that I will continue to stay present and not miss home and Freddy and family too much. I’m confident this is where God wants me to be!
