I have been trying to sort out the emotions flying around inside me on this Africa trip. As the expression says in my part of the world, “This ain’t my first rodeo.” This is the third medical team I’ve been on and I continue to feel privileged to be a part of this team. We work long and hard, get dirty and sweaty, endure heat and humidity in the African sun and cram ourselves into tight transport or into often less-than-ideal conditions. Outwardly, our reward is little more than photos, a few tourist trinkets and bouts of diarrhea or dizziness.
But I rarely enjoy a group of people more. We laugh until we cry and tease each other mercilessly and irreverently. The lighthearted banter and puns fly freely throughout the day. But when the situations turn serious or an urgent need arises we are all business. And there is no doubt that the patients come first. More than once we have had to convince doctors to stop seeing patients for their own good. And once on this trip, after an already-long day in the village, Dr. Nelson examined three extra patients outside our guesthouse in Ouagadougou under the porch light, sending Jessica to fetch the appropriate medicines. We all care.
Even Lee, who has lived here the longest, shakes his head at the tragedies and hardships faced by the patients that stumble through our little makeshift medical clinics.
And that is part of what I’m feeling --the helplessness I feel in the midst of the great need. Helplessness at knowing we visited two villages and a small neighborhood clinic in an area where more than 30 villages have almost no medical care. At knowing there is another district neighboring this one that is probably just as bad if not worse. At knowing that many of the most tragic have limped away with little we can do in our little clinic.
And yet I come eagerly on these trips. Those of you that know me well recognize that I love adventure. In college my friends and I even parsed our definition of adventure by saying it had to deal with extremes of temperature, time, distance, discomfort , and/or risk to be considered a legitimate adventure. We considered the shedding of blood bonus points. Although these trips hint at adventure we do our best to minimize risk and bloodshed as well as mitigate as many extremes as possible. It isn’t only the lure of adventure that draws me.
No matter how many times I face the injustices of life and the poverty and suffering so evident in developing nations I am left with questions. But I know the echoing silence I have found on previous trips is the only real answer. My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. I echo the biblical passage in claiming that I know nothing but Christ and Him crucified. I love these trips because it distills life down to where that is so clear—Jesus is the only hope. Here in Africa I build my faith-foundation afresh from Jesus up.
My Bible becomes a lifeline in the midst of the storm. I devour it rather than reading out of obligation. When Dorothy borrowed my Bible earlier on this trip and I forgot to retrieve it before bed, I jokingly accused her the next day of trying to starve me. But that is sometimes how it feels. Praise songs pumping out of my MP3 player and time in the Word and in prayer become a hungering necessity rather than a dull obligation.
But to imply I come for the spiritual high these trips create would be a lie. It isn’t a high so much as a desperate lunge at the only lifeline that makes sense amidst the chaos of injustice. Underneath there is some bit of me that leans back to the story about a man throwing starfish back into the sea. He reasoned that to the ones rescued, he had at least made a difference.
I drew hope from the story our radio partner from Sierra Leone shared with us last year when he visited our medical team in Ghana. He recalled that a group of white people had visited his village when he was a child and talked about Jesus, coupling the message with fun and love that he remembered for years until the day he gave his heart to Jesus much later in life. If I could be part of something like that it would make the time away from Rachelle and Natalia worthwhile. Even that small probability makes the discomforts seem totally insignificant. And a turkey dinner with family would be a small reward compared with the surpassing riches of the Kingdom.
God’s Kingdom come here to earth. I think that is what this is about. How beautiful it is when we work together in unity, black and white, continent to continent, culture to culture. Hallelujah our Savior is alive. Those moments where you know this in your bones. Even a teensy taste of the victory we have awaiting us is so sweet. How sweet to taste the flavor of victory here in Burkina Faso, arm in arm with our Burkinabe brothers who are shining bright light here in this dry land. Amplify their voices, Lord. Intensify the light that shines here. Energize them.
And thanks for letting me be a very small part of your Kingdom coming. That is why I’m here. Yes Kingdom come here on earth as it is in heaven.
