One Story
He walked straight up to me as soon as we made eye contact. Huge, pleading eyes. I expected a halting conversation as we crossed the cultural/language divide. But Farid immediately broke into perfect English with a bit of a British polish to it. He had crossed in a boat in the middle of the night. “How was the crossing?” I asked, expecting a good answer since the sea was calm near our hotel. “I nearly shit myself” was his reply as his expression changed to terror. He continued, “I had my four children with me and all could do was pray, ‘God, please don’t let me die in the water. Please don’t let me die in the water. My children are here. Please, God.’
For a decade and a half this man has worked for a European/North American treaty organization in his home country, which is at war. “Will that help your asylum case?” I asked. “Not enough. I need to strengthen it even more.”
The next morning at 8:00, I stood on little hill knowing Farid was down below in the government center making his asylum application. I prayed for him constantly. What a beautiful man and an asset to any city/country. But I was struck by all the people scurrying about that I wasn’t praying so earnestly for. This one man I met, with whom I had a long conversation and helped with some practical matters. But if I had happened to meet any other person and heard their long story, my heart would go out to them just the same. But my heart to too small for that.
I can only rejoice in the heart of God being able to know and hold and love all the people, whose painful stories I will never hear, even as I hand them a new mattress and haul their old filthy one away. And may they sense a bit of that as our team serves in His name.
By Kevin Johnson
My heart has been heavy as I have prayed for you, and Kathy, and the team. Then God reminded me of the time that our family went on the mission trip to Mexico. My girls were in JH and SH then (and we were with another family and their daughter was with our girls) and they were wisked away to an older woman's house who only knew Spanish. It was a stormy night and the girls told us the next day of the rain pouring in through the roof and the woman, who gave up her bed for them because she was so excited to have them stay with HER! She busily filled pans of water from the dripping roof through the night, and in the morning quickly lit a flame so that they would have a slight bit of warm water to wash their faces. Having very little to eat herself, she shared what she had with them. With all of this, and only speaking Spanish to Krista and Ruthie who had Spanish at school. But the girls knew that this was a Holy sleep-over...for the people that they had gone to minister to had ministered to them...Lots of lessons were learned that week as we visited the dump village, taught English in their church school, painted and worked on building projects and exhausted each night fell into a deep sleep....knowing that we could not possibly do everything that this beautiful church family needed, but God was there, in the midst of them, loving them, in a way that we could never even come close to. But we saw such JOY as they served us by feeding us, or giving us a bed to sleep in.
ReplyDeleteI am continuing to pray, every day, that God will give you the gift of JOY in some, small, special way. Whether it is washing and drying 100's of loads of clothes side by side with other workers, working on art therapy and hearing the stories, or getting people settled in their "temporary" new home, may you know that God goes before you and behind you and loves the people that you are serving more than you could ever begin to. We are so proud of what you are doing and your HUGE hearts that are close to breaking are gently held in the palm of God's hands....You are doing what God has called each of us to do. Every day, with whoever we come in contact with. To LOVE.... You are a reminder of that... What you are doing is beautiful.... Lots of love to you....Deb