Barefoot Slave

On Monday, April 4 at 12:19PM, I received a text message that simply read "Pray now."  It was from my friend and co-laborer in Uganda, Renee Bach.  I knew immediately why she sent it.  I knew the situation, and it threw my heart onto the floor beneath my lunch table.  I quietly excused myself and washed my dishes off in the sink and threw them in the dishwasher.  I picked up my bag, and I walked out of the dining area where the rest of the missionaries were eating.

When I knew I was out of sight of the others, my walk turned to a run.  The sooner I could get to my knees in prayer, the better.  My destination: the small, 20 seat chapel on the campus of Equip International in Marion, NC.  I'm here for a week-long intensive training on the Community Health Evangelism model being implemented by relief and development organizations around the world.  As I ran, fear began to tickle my heart.  I prayed as I moved: "Lord, You love Muhammed more than we ever could.  Hold him, hold Renee.  I know you're there with them, but please, please show yourself."

My morning had been sprinkled with text messages back and forth with Renee.  We were discussing the decreasing condition of Muhammed, a young boy who entered our malnutrition rehabilitation program a few days ago.  I was doing my best to place myself in the situation that I knew of only through text messages - a small boy laying on a table, struggling for every breath.  Malaria was ravaging his little body making it difficult for him to move, breath, and hold down fluids.  Our conversation included random comments of encouragement about God making Himself known in our weakness.  Around 10:30AM, the discussion faded and all went quiet for a little over an hour.

You can see why my heart sank when my cell phone screen lit up with the message "Pray now."  The topic of the last few hours surfaced.  I thought about the symptoms that Muhammed was having; my (great) lack of medical knowledge likely making the situation more drastic in my own heart.  When I made it to the prayer chapel, I couldn't hit my knees soon enough.  I don't particularly understand why - sometimes I feel so far removed from the work our organization does in Uganda because of my position in the states.  I feel helpless when I try to "walk" with Renee through these crazy situations - I feel helpless.  This time, I felt more involved.  Tears threatened my eyes as my mind raced - what was going on there at this very moment?  I prayed.  I cried, and I prayed.  1:00 arrived, so I picked up my bag and walked to our next session.  No news...

Nine minutes before Renee asked me to pray, Muhammed's heart had stopped.  Ten seconds later, it began beating again, his chest rising with every rapid breath.  Do something for me.  Stop reading.  Close your eyes, and count to ten...  For that moment, a sick baby in front of you seemed lifeless, but God intervenes.  For the next nine hours, Muhammed clang to life.  Renee stayed by his side, doing everything she could to care for his little body.  We prayed.  We trusted.

At 9:19PM, I received another simple, two-word text message.  Tears immediately filled my eyes, and an unexplainable sorrow set in.  "Muhammed went."  I'll admit that I was surprised at how burdened I was over a child passing that I seemingly had no connection with.  He was on the other side of the world - never seen, heard, or touched by me.  The feeling of helplessness set in again.  What could I do?  I'm half a world away.  Again, I did the only thing I knew to do - pray.  And pray I did.  I spent the next hour in the prayer chapel, the moon light intruding through the window behing the small wooden pulpit.

I'll never understand this side of Heaven why God chooses to bring some of His children home so early, or why He allows suffering.  I'll never understand why at times, despite our best efforts, we feel like life simply slips through our fingers.  At the end of May, I'll board a plane for Uganda.  God is allowing me to spend the next six months doing anything I can to help Renee and Serving His Children save lives of children like Muhammed.  I have no medical training and frankly, am not very educated on malnutrition.  But I have hands, feet, and a voice.  I have Jesus.  "For I resolved to know nothing while among you except Christ and Him crucified." (1 Corinthians 2)

It is only through the generous financial support of families and individuals that I am able to follow God's calling to Africa.  I'll be overseeing the amazing teams of volunteers our ministry will be hosting this summer, and traveling to northern Uganda and Sudan to explore the opportunity to replicate what we do in the south in a new region.  If you'd like to parter with us in ministry by supporting me, please click on the "Support" tab above.