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Our Blog

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.

Second Hand Clothes

Mike Broadhurst

     "If God is all-knowing, omnipotent and loving, then why does he allow suffering?"

     It's a fair question.

     Over the past few days I, along with a couple of my Malagasy friends, have taken to the streets of Toamasina with backpacks filled with children's second hand clothing.  There is no lack of children roaming the streets of Toamasina who are in need.  It is overwhelming.

     On occasion I have awakened early enough to walk our corridors and alleys just as the sun is breaching the horizon.  It's then that you see where these children sleep.  Some find refuge under pieces of corrugated tin, others with a rolled up blanket in the hollow of a door, and the lucky ones with a parent close by (usually a woman) under a portico that provides covering on rainy nights. 

     There are lame children, blind children, hungry children, homeless children, naked children and parentless children.  They have no money for school tuition and little parental oversight to instill a desire for education even if funds were available.  They run the streets night and day.  Almost all of them take to begging.

     So this Christmas our ministry purchased a 45-kilo bundle of second hand clothes.  You never now what you'll get with such a purchase, but for about $165 US there are 400 or so articles.  Our bundle was specifically filled with clothes for children under 12.

     As we ventured out this morning a woman approached us with a little girl in tow in sore need of something to wear.  She told us that the 3-year-old had just lost her mother.  We asked the woman if she was the grandmother.  She said, "No, just a friend."  The father, she said, just does not care and provides no support, so she has taken on the responsibility of looking after the little one.

     The little girl is one of the lucky ones, because many of these children are abandoned and left to fend for themselves.  As much as I can gather, there is a network of kids in my community who rely on one another for survival.  I am amazed at what they are able to accomplish on pure instinct alone.

     This particular little girl was beautiful.  She had big brown eyes and curly brown hair.  She couldn't have been any more than 30 inches tall and maybe 20 pounds in weight.  She was clearly underfed - little spindly legs hanging beneath a tattered and dirty dress.  Yet, she was still as beautiful as any parent could want.  

     You look at one such as these and wonder how far a little bit of love and encouragement might change their destiny.  We gave her the best dress we had in our bag.  It was second hand, but as good as new in her sparkling eyes.  At that moment it was all we could give.

     Later in the morning we stood in the town square trying to provide for the needs of the urchins that crowded around.  As I looked through our bags I prayed that the stash of second hand clothes might be miraculously multiplied. I could feel the hands of children pulling on my shirt tail, tapping my stomach and pressing against my legs as those in the back squashed the group closer.

     Their pleas for supply were like cicadas on a summer night; none so loud that alone it would be much more than a murmur, but when orchestrated together it was more than enough to make it hard to think.  Unfortunately, we didn't have something for everyone.

     Some were grateful, offering a demure, "Merci."  Some took what they had and retreated from the crush.  Still others stood around wanting more, oblivious to the unfulfilled needs of those standing next to them.  All for second hand clothes.  

     I can't explain it, but the experience was pure pleasure.  I could smell their filth, feel their sweat, even see the gnats swarm around their heads in the glistening sun beams.  Their grimy hands grasped for clothing as their eyes clamored for something more.  For that moment, as brief as it may have been, I felt like it wasn't me giving at all, but receiving something of paradoxical joy.

     I understand that Toamasina, Madagascar is just one little corner of a big wide-world. However, there are enough of these little corners that it is beyond my comprehension as to why the most blessed of the earth do not see, or should I say refuse to look.

     So, for me, I find the question of God's existence in light of suffering a smoke screen.  We can all agree that there is more than enough suffering to go around, so what does it matter who is to blame?  

     Asking about the origins of suffering ultimately begs the question, "What am I going to do about it?"  This changes the question from the philosophical or metaphysical and turns it into reality.  It turns the question into a challenge.  "Do we really care?"

      If we do care, then the reality of it all requires that we take action.  If we are not willing to get involved then I have to conclude that pondering and debating why suffering exists is inconsequential and vain.  If we don't care then what's the point of asking the question?

     C.S. Lewis wrote, "Let's pray that the human race never escapes from Earth to spread its iniquity elsewhere."

     Conversely, the Bible narrative is that from Heaven the Father saw the suffering of this world and sent his Son into the midst of it, to minister to it, to heal it and to even take it upon Himself.  He did it with the expectation that His mercy would be attractive enough that all would want to follow Him and leave our iniquity behind. 

     To do that, the Messiah demands of us to pick up a cross.  That means we cannot stand idly by and yet proclaim to know who is He.