These kinds of trips never turn out how we think they will. All along, I asked for clarity, and when I received none, I became more confused than ever. I asked questions, prayed, read... hoping that the Lord would speak to me through something or someone about the future he desires for me... and yet nothing. No words, no whispers, no epiphanies. Only silence. So I started to wait. Watch, wait and pray out of a new desire and desperation to simply please Him.
Two weeks passed by, slowly then quickly, and it felt as though nothing really had been accomplished in His name or for His name, our real purpose seemingly forgotten. New friends and old friends came and went. No words, no whispers. Only the same quiet desperation not to go home the same as I came.
And then it was there as I rode through the garbage-ridden streets of Eastleigh trying to comprehend how my friends walked each day to find the unloved, the broken and friendless. How do they sort through all the noise, confusion and despair to find one shred of hope amidst the poverty? How to keep hope alive when all around you lies death and decay?
Then the realization hit me... here in this place where hope quickly dies lies a power greater than any man, any collapsed economy, any change of political power... and these people had not forgotten the basic life lesson I so often ignore - to depend on our God Most High... for every breath, every bread, every waking and sleeping. In His name, dry bones breathe again and the crippled walk and the blind see. Oh that this wretched, blind soul would see once again and never more forget that to die is gain and that to suffer for His name is to truly live! Oh that my impoverished soul were as rich as the poorest beggar on the street whose only hope is realized in Him.
I walked through the door into the front courtyard to see a small fragile woman rise up and come towards me, her face flushed with excitement. The last time I'd seen her, she was sharing a twin size hospital bed in the national hospital and refusing surgery, death only 2 weeks away. I had cried as I held her that day, knowing that I'd never see this stranger again. Yet she lived despite her injuries, and here she stood in front of me 1 1/2 years later... healthy, working, caring for her children, and treating me as though 2 years ago I'd given her the greatest gift ever when I'd only visited her once in the hospital. There was a gratefulness I'd never seen before, especially for an act so small. I was humbled by this small fragile woman, who in all her poverty was richer than I because she knew and daily lived out the blessings of the Lord.
How dare I live as if my Lord doesn't see me. How dare I take him for granted. How dare I forget His protection over me... because if He cares enough to save one street woman from Eastleigh, surely he can save me too. Yet she in her low earthly state, is far richer than I, for she truly knows the value of her life and the love of her Savior. Oh to live life in such a way that every breath be counted a blessing and every encounter a divine appointment to share the love of Christ. Oh to have the joy of the healed street woman who will never know earthly comfort but eagerly awaits the arms of her Savior.
