I walk into the hospital for the second time that month. We had gone as a team the week before and had an amazing experience encouraging and praying for people in the women and children’s wards. I met the sweetest woman named Esther, and we became friends instantly. She was recovering from surgery to have a tumor removed from her abdomen. She was in amazingly good spirits, and we talked about our families, the beauty of Africa, and the goodness of God. We exchanged email addresses and made plans to visit later in the month. I left the hospital so encouraged. I went into the hosptial feeling totally uncomfortable and not expecting much, just asking the Lord to speak through me, show me what to do. Who would have thought that I’d be the one who came out encouraged—wasn’t I supposed to be the one doing the encouraging here?
Our second visit to the hospital was a whole other story. Becca and I were asked to pray for people in the men’s ward. We came across so many men with malaria, stomach pains, chest pains, swollen legs & feet, anemia, and meningitis. Half of them have AIDS, you can tell by their horribly chapped lips and yellow eyes. Many are sharing beds because the hospital is overcrowded. We prayed for them one by one, but with each man we left, I felt heavier, more discouraged.
We met a man named Hilary who said he’s been completely well for a month, but could not leave because he had no money and no family to help him. He was in tears. My heart tore in two. The last man we prayed for was named Charles, who was extremely old and had advanced diabetes. His legs and feet were literally rotting away because of the disease. I felt so utterly helpless. I walked off of the hospital grounds feeling so numb. We then heard from the rest of my team that they had just witnessed the hysterical shrieking of a grief-stricken woman whose daughter had just died in her arms. They were still in the waiting room, because there were no beds available in the overcrowded hospital.
I came home, went to my bed and just didn’t move. All I could do was pray over and over, “God, please rescue them. God, please show up. Please provide for Hilary. Please heal them all. Where are you??”
It was the first time I’ve really felt so completely hopeless on the Race. I felt like my prayers were just empty words. I just wanted to see the fruit of my prayers, but there was none I could see. It was beyond discouraging.
I was beginning to understand why people say they come back from the World Race messed up. I want my heart to feel compassion for the brokenness in the world, but I don’t want that brokeness to tear me apart. I want to be able to do something about it, heal the brokenness. I wanted more than anything today to just be able to get Hilary out of the hospital. I want to be able to get people the medications they need. They will just sit in the hospital with no treatment if their families cannot afford the medicine. I wanted them to have clean beds, clean dressings on their wounds instead of ones crusted with old blood. I want them to be able to go home when they are well.
It made me question what I’m doing here. We come into these countries for a couple weeks, build relationships, try to speak the Truth into their lives, then we uproot ourselves and leave these people hanging. What happens when we’re gone??
Then the Lord reminded me of my time as a counselor at Kanakuk Kamps. I had groups of campers for a fun-filled, whirlwind six days each. I was responsible for 12 sweet girls, and I somehow felt the responsibility to make sure they all came to know Jesus within those six days. If it didn't happen, I fel like I was a failure as their counselor. But that was just absolutely not the truth. The Lord showed me then the truth I needed to hear,
“You are planting seeds."
Even if I didn’t get to see the fruit of my labor, God wanted me to trust that all my sweet campers were safely in His hands. God knew what He was doing. I needed to have faith that the work I was doing wasn’t finished yet. God held their lives in the palm of His hands, and He wouldn't let them go. Not then, not now. He would continue the work He started in them…
“…He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” –Philippians 1:6
And it’s the same case now. I may not stay long in each country, but I cannot lose hope that I am making an impact. I am not here in vain. The Lord is doing so much more than I can see. His ways are so high above my ways, and I have to trust Him, to live by faith that He has so much purpose in my being here on the mission field. Not only am I being discipled this year, learning and growing in my faith more than I could have ever thought possible, but I am also discipling those I meet. I am planting seeds. I am watering seeds that are already planted. Those seeds will one day grow into something really beautiful, and it’s a blessing that I get to be a part of it, even if it’s just a small part.
And there is so much good in that. For Charles who was sick with diabetes, I can keep praying for his healing, believing that God will do it, even if I will never see it. For Hilary who was stuck in the hospital with no means of paying his debt, I can keep praying for God to come through with the finances, believing He will do it, even if I don’t get to see him go home. For all the patients I prayed for, I can keep praying for their hearts to be captured by Jesus, even if I don't get to see them accept Christ as their Savior.
God doesn’t always answer my prayers when I wish that He would. But His timing is not my timing. His ways are not my ways. And I can always trust in His goodness, His faithfulness.
“So we walk by faith, not by sight.” -2 Corinthians 5:7
