Worthy

About a year ago, I was in Ecuador on a mission that was organized to encourage the people of a devastated city. Often times, we Christians travel to third world countries with a mission to enhance the lives of the people we serve, and then we discover that we were the ones encouraged.

This is one of those times.

We were in Manta, Ecuador with a large team and a large mission. We went to help construct the framework of a church, while helping with medical needs, and encouraging the people who had lost hundreds of loved ones a year earlier, in one of the worst earthquakes in the history of Ecuador.

We got more details of the story of what happened from one of our interpreters. He was in town starting a new job at a hotel located on the beach of this coastal town when the earthquake hit. He and his roommate had the evening off and were walking the beach when they were knocked down by a shift in the sands.

Not just any shift, but a 7.8 Richter scale shift.

They looked up to see a surreal picture of buildings shaking back and forth till they collapsed and electrical wires throughout the city throwing electricity around like lightning. It looked as if the city was under some sort of attack like in a video game, but unfortunately it was all too real. The city went dark and the screaming and moaning began as they ran looking for their apartment building, somehow silhouetted in the pitch-black sky filling with smoke and dust.

They were focused on survival as they climbed the stairwell of their still standing building to grab what possessions they would need to get out of the city. Juan told me that the moment he entered his apartment, he felt a need to pray, to pray for another day. So, he hit his knees as his roommate watched for a moment before yelling at him to grab his stuff. He did, and they began to run as an after-shock knocked them down again.

They had to get out of the building before it fell.

They ran the streets passing people wandering around in disbelief, some bleeding, some with broken body parts, some wailing…all confused as to what to do next. His roommate said something about the bus station about a mile away and that became their destination. They got there and, of course, there were no buses, but a van was nearby offering rides out of town and they jumped on board.

This is when I asked what I thought was the obvious question, “Juan, why didn’t you try to help the people around you?” He said, “We were no different than them. We were scared and in shock… we just wanted to get away.” I replied that I understood but the truth is, I didn’t.

I couldn’t do it.

From what he described, it had to be a horrific scene. I’m no hero, but if I hear a child or woman screaming for help, I believe I’m going to help. But I don’t want you to think I have any judgement of Juan, as none of us really know what we would do until we are in the fire.

He was in the fire!

Juan and I became very close on this adventure of restoration. Restoration mostly of the spirit of the people who felt as if God had abandoned them during their time of greatest need. Juan was my interpreter in a sense but he was really my co-communicator of God’s love for the people. Juan loved the people too. He wanted to share his own redemption by helping me make sense to them.

I’m not sure that sounds right, but that’s the best way I can put it.

I was a member of the preaching and teaching team on this mission, so I prepared a message in advance and read it to my Pastor. He doesn’t use the same terminology as I do, but I got the message from his feedback anyhow…it sucked.

I hate to say it, but I didn’t believe in what I wrote anyhow. I was trying to be religious, and I stunk it up!

My Pastor told me to write it my way, hopefully using the guidance of the Holy Spirit, which can be hit or miss for me. I have to rewrite a lot of great spiritual thoughts that were initially poorly thought out.

Get my drift? So, I gave it a second try and to be honest, it sucked too! And that’s the talk I took with me.

Well, sometimes the Holy Spirit waits patiently on me to understand what He wants to say to His people. They are His in suffering, not my audience of lowly victims. So, once I met some of the people we were to minister to, my heart broke. I saw a five-year-old girl who had waited for three days for her mom and dad to pick her up from a daycare. They didn’t make it as they were buried in the rubble… dead. She wandered up and down the aisles of a church as the Pastor spoke. The church gave her permission to grieve her way.

My heart ached.

I wrote my talk attempting to convey God’s love for them and lift them up. I wrote it while standing in a chapel on the campus of the mission where we were staying. While I was writing my talk, I had two friends somewhat doing the same thing. So when we finished, we decided to give our talks to each other for confirmation that the Holy Spirit was at least involved in part of it.

I was sandwiched between two PhD’s, both of which are intellectually superior to me even with half their brain tied behind their back. But they dulled themselves down and confirmed that what I wrote was too smart for me so it had to be the Holy Spirit.

The three of us together were, no doubt, the odd couple. The male PhD is from Florida and the female PhD is from Florida State, so it was entertaining for me to see their exchanges as deep down they hated each other’s school, but wanted to play nice. I was sort of out of the picture as my school had been the whipping boy of Florida for years and we don’t play Florida State. So, I didn’t have a DAWG in the fight!

Also, on a more serious note, one of us was fighting depression brought on by a dysfunctional relationship. I want to share some of this because it affected our three-way relationship. Two of us attempted to minister to the third, who was consumed with a day to day awareness of being wounded and abandoned. This PhD was broken before entering the country but desperately wanted to share God’s grace with the people. The other PhD and I were just called to listen and encourage, hopefully that is what we did. After a few days, her heartache for the people took precedent over her personal heartache. Her zeal for encouraging, nurturing and teaching took over and the Holy Spirit spoke through her to His people.

The next day we sort of picked our preaching partners and I chose the wounded one, as I enjoyed her company and I had already learned quite a bit from her. She happened to be the first one up to preach and it amazed me at how well she did. While trying to climb out from under a dark cloud, she preached light to a small congregation of predominantly women who had been devastated by the earthquake.

After she preached, we prayed with each member of the church individually. It was a freeing moment for my friend as I believe she received confirmation from the Holy Spirit that she was worthy. You may think that is an odd thing to say. But for some of us, when the Holy Spirit says we are worthy, He means WORTHY!!! She was extravagant in her love for the people and the Lord was extravagant in using her!

That was an awesome morning!

Well, now it’s my turn to preach. It was dark thirty, when a subcompact compact picked us up. There were three missionaries; me, PhD and a friend who had been working on the new church in the jungle, George. Don’t forget Juan, who took the front seat as he was about 6’4”. The rest of us packed in the vehicle’s back seat attempting to be gracious to one another, as we looked and felt a little too carnal but no one said it.

We had no idea where we were going nor who would be there. We ended up slowly climbing the side of a steep hill, overlooking the city, where a refugee camp had been set up for those who lost their homes and had no insurance to rebuild. There were probably a couple thousand people living there. They lived in either steel containers with holes cut out of the sides for windows, or a combination of bamboo, grass, newspaper or cardboard shacks. All of them were rigged with some kind of electricity as there were bird’s nests of wires running everywhere.

An electrical fire could take out the entire village.

We pulled down a narrow dirt drive to a bamboo shack where a few women and children were waiting on us. The Pastor was the same woman Pastor from the morning church we had visited. I think I was supposed to know that, but forgot. She was so excited to see us again, as the church had prepared extravagantly for us.

Now, get the picture.

This is a refugee camp, where everyone is broke financially. But, spiritually they were extravagant! The inside of the hut had a dirt floor with a small wooden stage built in the front. Plastic chairs were lined in rows for the congregation. The place probably seated about forty people.  We as guests were expected to sit on the front row.

The Pastor’s son got the congregation focused with worship music that got us all anticipating the evening. Then something happened that I had never seen before but resembled events we’ve read about in the book of Acts in the Bible, but they were happening in the now.

The Pastor received the offering, not just any offering, but an offering for one of the neediest families in the church. She told the congregation to bring up some of their food stores. And they came one at a time with what they could spare, mostly in the form of beans and rice and bread or flour and sometimes corn. The largest offering was maybe a half pound of beans. It was difficult to watch as we had eaten chicken and assorted vegetables for supper before we came.

It was now time for the party to get started as the building had mysteriously filled with people of all ages and down the aisle came a line of young girls dressed in red, white and blue dresses to make the North Americans feel welcome. They danced and praised God as the Holy Spirit took ownership of the hut and we rejoiced as a united congregation. Immediately after the children finished, out came the church’s women also dancing down the aisle, extravagantly dressed in outfits that would rival any church family.

It was really surreal… a bamboo building with dirt floors filled with people who wanted us to feel appreciated. And we did!

As the women walk out the rear of the church, Juan looked at me and said the Pastor is ready for you to give a message from the Lord.

I felt so inadequate!

I could barely see as I had cried through most of the celebration, thinking of their circumstances compared to mine.

It grieved me.

I started by trying to show our appreciation for them being such gracious hosts. Then, I told them that God was actually with them during the earthquake and He loved them. I told them that I can’t explain why He let the earthquake happen but that He understood their grief as He gave His Son’s life for all of us, so we could have Someone, who knew suffering, to speak on our behalf.

I told them that the Holy Spirit was with us now and that Jesus wanted to show His love for them by having us pray with them. It could be anything they wanted us to pray for and that’s when the floodgates opened, as men, women and children began to line up.

This is when I was so blessed to see the Holy Spirit “show out”, as PhD and George alternated in praying for the least, the last and the lost. I laid hands on the people as they brought their concerns to my partners. It was emotional and draining to pray with the people as many had lost friends and family on that dark night of the earthquake. Some had lost limbs or were hurt so badly they could no longer work.

I remember PhD praying for a woman brought up by her husband as he feared for her life, because she had AIDS. He whispered as he didn’t want the others to know what was wrong with her.  A tiny child with her little friend came up wanting prayer for her parents who don’t go to church. A young woman who had an eating disorder came for prayer, too. And the list went on and on!

I started thinking, how do You do it all, Lord? There are so many of us in need, how do You do it? Then He spoke into my spirit, “All things are possible; bring them all, they are my children, bring them all!”

And we did.

I will never forget that night. PhD’s significance was confirmed by the Holy Spirit and that was huge for her. George was reminded why he sacrificed his time and talents to build churches. And I was amazed at it all… as I felt worthy.

 

THOUGHTS OF THE HUNTER KIND:

You may ask why use the term worthy? What do I mean, worthy? Worthy for me is that I’m actually fulfilling the reason I was created. For me to feel worthy in my spirit, I should be doing the things the Lord has designed for me to do. I don’t know if that is right thinking or not, I don’t care. The Holy Spirit says I’m worthy and that’s good enough for me!

Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me.  Matthew 10:38

I figure that if Jesus said that to the disciples, He also meant it for me.

PRAYER OF THE HUNTER KIND:

James 1:22 MSG

Don’t fool yourself into thinking that you are a listener when you are anything but, letting the Word go in one ear and out the other. Act on what you hear!

Lord, you have blessed me so much to let my heart be crushed like Yours in seeing the suffering of the world. Please continue to move me to do something.

It’s all about You, Jesus and them.