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SUFFERING

     Thousands of miles and a whole continent in between are two women.  They don't know each other, nor will they while on this earth.  Yvonne and I know them both.  Both of them are suffering.

     Several weeks ago Yvonne was coming home after visiting a friend when she came upon Bernadette.  Wrapped in little more than rags, Bernadette was laying outside the doors of local clothing and jewelry stores, barely conscious.

     Though we did not know her name at that time, we've seen Bernadette before along with countless other beggars that roam our neighborhood.  We had never seen her in this condition.  

     Her lips were white, her eyes yellow and her hair speckled with grit from the street.  She sat in a puddle of air conditioning condensation and her own urine.  Without help she couldn't sit up, let alone stand up.  

     Someone nearby had given her a cup of water and a morsel of food, but she was too weak to lift her hand to put them to her mouth.  Two young women had stopped to comfort her, but really did not know what to do.  Mostly, people either just walked by or stood and stared.

     With the help of our translator, Gerand, we were able to extract enough information to know that if we didn't help her she was going to die.  The three of us were eventually able to lift Bernadette into a tuc tuc and transport her to the local hospital.

     Within a day she had regained much of her strength.  Within two days she was able to walk to a bathroom (without her cane) and bathe.  A week later she was able to leave the hospital.

     The curious thing about Bernadette is that she has family not far away.  They have enough to provide their sister food and shelter, but Bernadette prefers wandering the streets and begging.  We have seen her several times in the last week, right where she has been before.

     While it is apparent that Bernadette, who is 60 years old, suffers from some form of dimensia, it is also apparent that she has enough awareness to know she has a place where she could live in a semblance of dignity.  She prefers indignity.  Her family is well aware of her condition, but is unwilling to fight through Bernadette's obstinance to help.

     Back in the states, there is another who is suffering.  She did not grow up in squalor, but in middle class America.  As a young girl she contracted polio.  Now as a 74-year-old woman she is battling cancer.

     What we know about Jeannine is that she is a fighter.  She fought through polio and raised a family without the help of an absentee husband.  She persevered through adversity and was able to provide.  The ultimate fruits of her labor are two children of immense character.  

     Her son and daughter are the picture of what any parent's heart would desire; both accomplished and both with healthy families of their own.  Most importantly, they love their mother deeply.

     When we heard of Jeannine's challenge Yvonne and I really didn't know how to respond.  You see, Jeannine is a friend of ours.  We have shared Christmas and Thanksgiving together, but we did not know how to share in her suffering.  So, we prayed.

     Just recently we exchanged e-mails, and Jeannine said this: "I believe the only way I'll succeed in winning this challenge is with God's help."

     What I see from a distance is the success of Jeannine's suffering.  She has already won.  The rewards are her children and grandchildren, who are now at her side with love and compassion.  In return, Jeannine has persevered with courage and grace.

     No matter how pragmatic or accurate a doctor's prognosis, where there is God there is always hope.  And where there is hope there is love.  The Bible says, "...God is love...Now there abides these three; faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love."

     You see, the difference between Bernadette and Jeannine is love.  Bernadette's family is ambivalent when it comes to her suffering.  There is defeat and separation.  There is no desire to ensure the one who is suffering any sort of comfort and in exchange they receive no comfort.

     On the other hand, Jeannine's family is tied together in love.  They are bound by compassion and mercy.  I suspect that though they might not even recognize it, that their hearts are set on the prospects of justice prevailing - that ultimately their hearts are united in eternity.

    So, one family is divided, the other united.  One is forlorn, the other hopeful. One woman suffers in bitterness, the other in love.

    We are reminded of a Savior, who's birth we are about to celebrate.  He lived, He suffered and He died...for us.  Then He was resurrected...for us.  

     Yvonne and I pray that you would know this love this Christmas.  That it would resurrect purpose in your life.  And once you know it, share it with someone who is suffering.  It is the greatest gift we could possibly give.

Giving

Mike Broadhurst

Six weeks of cross cultural training was supposed to prepare us for the differences between the way we Westerners see things and the way people in Africa respond in similar circumstances.  Part of our "education" was to shed light on how most African cultures view money.  

In simple terms, in the USA the goal is to save money, accumulate wealth, prepare for "rainy" days and retire with a suitable nest egg.   Money, in a sense, is very personal.  

In Africa, money is communal property.  The village comes first.  To have something and not share it with others is not virtuous.  To have something and "save" it for the future can actually lead to someone being shunned by a community.

With that as a backdrop I want to share an anecdote that touched my heart.  Let me make it very clear that the villages that we visited in the area of the Drakensberg Mountains are very poor by the way of American standards.  In one village the population numbered about 400.  

One local care-giver who led us into homes for the purpose of providing healthcare services and prayer said that 80% of the inhabitants test positive for HIV/AIDS.  Many are children under the age of 10.  In several circumstances our team met with people on their death beds...a thin matress on a cement floor was their only comfort as they prepared for their last breath.

On Sundays our team of 30 would break up into groups and attend different churches.  One of our group went to a church where the pastor had died two years ago.  His wife had inhereted a small flock.  Last Sunday five of our group attended her church.  The congregation numbered 10, including those representing our team.

Like churches in the West, offerings are very much a part of the African experience.  In some services there's actually several collections.  At this particular church an offering was taken at the end of the service.  Everyone in the church, locals included, put something in the basket.

The pastor then made her way to the person heading up our group.  She presented the enitire offering to our team, telling him, "Because you have come to Africa to minister to us, we want to give to you to help you in your work."

My friends, what they gave wasn't 10% of their earnings.  I can assure you that what they gave was not out of a savings account.  The contents in the basket represented several days wages, if not a week's.  In a very real sense, some of the members of that congregation gave everything they had.

These people that we are ministering to are beautiful people.  They are humble people.  They are loving people.  They are people who have blessed us beyond measure.  My prayer is that Yvonne and I might leave this place with a morsel of their faith.

 

 

 

 

 

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