Our Hope in Suffering

Her black, smooth skin fit perfectly over her toned arm muscles. She was thin, but strong. She was weathered, but beautiful. I noticed this when she extended her hand to shake mine, but then my gaze drifted up her arm and into her eyes. 

Her eyes told me that she has a million stories to tell. Stories of life and death, suffering and miracles, desperation and provision. 

She bent down low as she shook my hand, a cultural sign showing respect and humility. But really, I was the humbled one. 

I tried to place myself in her shoes for just a moment. A grandmother left to take care of an orphaned grandson, her daughter's only child. The joy of being a new grandmother mixed with the grief of losing a daughter. The joy of spoiling a grandchild mixed with the responsibility of having to serve in his mother's place. Add to that the complexity of living everyday in a mud hut with meager resources, always wanting more for your family. Focusing all your thoughts on just how to survive - how to get water and ration enough food to make a meal but not run out before the next harvest. Always waiting for a sign of hope. 

I can't imagine the suffering that these people experience. It makes me want to take back my words for every time that I said I "suffered", for I have never known suffering like they do. 

Then I remember an African woman I know, who is now a faithful believer in the Lord. When she tells her testimony, she talks about a time in her life of extreme difficulty. She was widowed and left to care for six young children by herself. She had absolutely no means to feed them, and she did not know what to do. In desperation, she cried out to the Lord, even though she confesses that her faith was weak. At that time, she found out about our program for infants in distress and enrolled. The milk, health education, and spiritual support she received saved the lives of her children. More importantly than that, it gave her hope for the future and confirmed to her that God really does care for his people. He hears prayers and answers. He proves that he exists and is faithful. Now, this same woman works for our program for infants in distress, offering that same hope to other women who are in a desperate situation that she remembers all too well. 

When I dreamed of living as a missionary in Africa, there was nothing I wanted more than to share the gospel. In my mind, I imagined that meant that I would get to tell the story of Jesus to people who have never heard it before. 

Although I have not given up on that original dream, I am learning that it can come true in ways that are bigger, yet more simple than what I originally foresaw. Sometimes I do get to share the gospel, just not by telling the story of Jesus to ones who have never heard it before. Instead, I get to come into the courtyard of those who have heard that Jesus saves, yet they have lost hope in its truth along the way because of the depth of their suffering. Sometimes I get to reach out to someone who might have just prayed the night before, "God, if you are really real, you will send me a sign of hope." 

The gospel doesn't just need to come to those who have never heard it before, but also to those who are on the verge of giving up on faith if God doesn't come through. 

As we were leaving the courtyard of the faithful grandmother after visiting her and her orphaned grandson who is in our program for infants in distress, I shook her hand one more time, placing my left hand on my right forearm as a cultural sign of respect to a woman who greatly deserves it. I wanted her to know that we came in the name of Jesus, so I did the best I could with the limited dagara that I speak by looking into her stories eyes and saying, "Sori amaro", which is a Christian blessing that is similar to our "God bless you". A look of joy and peace swept over her face, as if hope had entered her heart once again. And I prayed that God really would bless her through our humble efforts to care for her like Jesus would. Maybe today she was waiting for hope. Maybe today she needed a sign that God has not forgotten her. 

Our program for infants in distress is not just to provide milk for orphaned babies, but to give hope to families in desperate situations, to to give them a sign that God has not forgotten them, and thus to share the gospel with those who are on the brink of giving up on God. 

Sometimes sharing the gospel looks like standing before a large crowd and sharing the good news with those who have never heard it before, but sometimes sharing the gospel looks like extending a compassionate hand during a time of great need to serve as a sign of hope. And to prove that God really is real and does not abandon his people.