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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.

No Fear

Mike Broadhurst

Jesus returned to the Temple, knowing full well the hatred the Pharisees held in their hearts toward him.  He knew of their intent to kill him, yet he returned.

Yvonne and I serve at the HOPE Center for Mercy Ships.  The ship has limited bed space, so the center serves as a hostel for those awaiting surgery and recuperating once they come out of intensive care. 

Our building is part of Toamatave's Hopital Be (Big Hospital).  We pass their patients every day as we come to work.

One morning we walked in and a Muslim stood on the veranda outside one of the hospital's rooms.  He looked forlorn and weary.  As I passed by the room several times that day I could see a woman inside.  She seemed to never move from her left side.

In the next two days more and more family members showed up at the room.  There seemed to a be a growing mood of despair and expectation of death.  I sensed more and more, with each stroll by the room, that I was supposed to pray for them.

I prayed, but the more I prayed the more I had an urging to go into the room and intercede for the woman.  So, I approached one of our Malagasy interpreters and asked him to take me to the man with the taqiyah (a prayer cap).  I sensed some trepidation on my translator's part.

The conversation was brief. I told the man that I was praying for the woman inside the room and, if he would like, Yvonne and I could come and pray at her bedside.  His face was deadpan as he responded.

The interpreter later told me that he thought the man was scared.  "To him Jesus is a prophet, not God," my translator said, something that I already knew.  "He is probably scared that you would pray to Jesus, so all he said was, 'Thank you.'"

The interpreter went on to tell me how Islam is gaining strength in Madagascar; that there is tension between Muslims and Christians; that each side is afraid of the other.  I told him that I recognize there is fear, but reminded him that the Bible says, "Perfect love casts out all fear."

We conversed and I encouraged him that Jesus loves all people and that if we don't approach our supposed enemies without fear they will never see nor hear the love of Christ.  

Later that day, the interpreter rushed to Yvonne and me with exuberance and a big smile.  "You're not going to believe this," he said.  "It's a miracle!"   

"What's a miracle?" we asked.

"The husband of the woman in the room came to me and said that he welcomes you and Yvonne to come and pray for his wife," he said.

Early two mornings later, Yvonne and I went to the room.  Yvonne chose to cover her head out of respect for the Muslim woman.  We brought towels as prayer rugs.  We both got on our knees at the foot of the bed, me with my face to the ground.  The woman was where she had been for days, on her left side barely moving and groaning with pain.  So, we prayed.  And we prayed in and through the name of Jesus Christ.

The very next day we saw a first; the woman was on the veranda sitting upright.  The husband greeted us with a face aglow, a beaming smile, thumbs up signifying success and then shaking our hands.  Three days later they were gone.  The nurses at Hopital Be said the woman had regained her strength, stood up and walked out of the hospital with her family.

We didn't get a chance to speak the gospel to them, but they saw first hand the power of the Savior.  I pray that the seed of life given to that woman will stir their hearts to pursue the One who said, "No one can enter the kingdom of heaven except through me."

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