I have had the privilege, in my 25 years, to visit slums all over the world. Many may not call that a privilege, but I certainly do. I’ve held the hands and had the blonde ends of my hair touched by hundreds of excited and screaming children. I’ve spent hours and days in one room shacks that lack any essentials including electricity, running water and sometimes even lack a bed.
And then like most people on short term missions, I’ve gotten back into the van that brought me there, I’ve leaned my head against the window, bouncing along the unpaved road as I tried process all I had seen. It’s so easy to feel overwhelmed by hopelessness and guilt wondering “what can I even do?” So often this honestly leaves us at the conclusion that there is little we can do and we move on with our lives, maybe a little more thankful for all we have, although even that is often short lived. I say this not to be overly critical of short term missions, although I do believe they have their shortcomings, but because I myself have been there. I have left unsure of where God could possibly be in these situations.
And then like most people on short term missions, I’ve gotten back into the van that brought me there, I’ve leaned my head against the window, bouncing along the unpaved road as I tried process all I had seen. It’s so easy to feel overwhelmed by hopelessness and guilt wondering “what can I even do?” So often this honestly leaves us at the conclusion that there is little we can do and we move on with our lives, maybe a little more thankful for all we have, although even that is often short lived. I say this not to be overly critical of short term missions, although I do believe they have their shortcomings, but because I myself have been there. I have left unsure of where God could possibly be in these situations.
And then like most people on short term missions, I’ve gotten back into the van that brought me there, I’ve leaned my head against the window, bouncing along the unpaved road as I tried process all I had seen. It’s so easy to feel overwhelmed by hopelessness and guilt wondering “what can I even do?” So often this honestly leaves us at the conclusion that there is little we can do and we move on with our lives, maybe a little more thankful for all we have, although even that is often short lived. I say this not to be overly critical of short term missions, although I do believe they have their shortcomings, but because I myself have been there. I have left unsure of where God could possibly be in these situations.
A week ago I walked through another slum, the most impoverished slums in the northern hemisphere, Cite Soleil, which was originally set up as a disaster relief zone after the earthquake in 2010 but many people have never been able to leave. A literal river of garbage flows through Cite Soleil and most of the 250’000+ people live in one room shelters built with scraps of discarded metal. As I walked through the slums, trying to avoid the garbage and revolting puddles, many children chased after me, just like they do almost anywhere in the world. Women stood outside their homes looking after me sternly although when I greeted them in my poor creole most would crack a smile, return the greeting with a wave and even chuckle at my poor pronunciation.
I left Cite Soleil that day feeling less broken hearted than ever before, despite all that I had seen, and a wave of guilt fell over me. I began to fear that I had become immune to suffering, and that thought petrified me. But as I lay in bed that night, remembering the faces of the women I had seen, their eyes piercing me through the darkness, I began to feel something new. I felt hope.
I remembered a moment as I had walked past a woman standing in the entrance of her make-shift shelter. She looked at me with a firm expression that I couldn't read as my eyes met hers. Determined to make her smile, I greeted her with “bon swa” good afternoon, and in that moment I felt a wave of hope, like a hot shower had just been turned on pouring over me. I knew in that moment, with a God given certainty, that I could impact her life. Her children were probably born in the shelter she called home, maybe she had lost children, maybe she had come close to losing her own life at some point. I don’t really know for sure. But more than knowing that I could help her deliver her children, I knew deep in my heart that I could teach her the skills to be a midwife in her own community, though I didn’t know whether she could even read or write. It seems like an outrageous idea, and in the end hasn’t this been the goal I’ve been working towards for last few years? Yes. But my dream had been a unlit match, all the potential of fire, but in this moment as this beautiful woman cracked a smile, poverty surrounding her, God had lit a new flame in my heart. True hope.
The truth is that it isn’t my time yet to head to the developing world, I have months of education ahead of me. I will probably never see this woman again, I didn’t even have a chance to learn her name. But I did get a new foundation of hope from God. ___ women die every day from PREVENTABLE causes. That statistic wrecks me, but now I stand in renewed hope. There are such simple changes that could be taught to everyday women, even those with no education, that could outrageously change birth outcomes for women and their children. And that is just the start of the outrageously large dream God is growing in my heart.
“How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?” Romans 10:14
I’ve been mulling over this verse a lot lately as the ultimate goal of my ministry is for women to know the radical love and freedom that I have found in Jesus. But how will they know if I don’t tell them, and how can I tell them if they are dead? I say that not to be crass, but because for many women in the world pregnancy and labor is extremely life threatening. How can they live for Jesus if they are not alive. How many children never get to live the lives God has for them because their life was stolen by death too soon. I am determined to be a life bringer, both in the physical and the spiritual, to give people a greater chance to live beyond birth and to bring them to the foot of the cross where Jesus gave His life for ours.
My mentor Tom always told me there are two kinds of people in this world. Goers and senders. It is so clear that me that I am a called to be a “goer”. God has clearly called me into the mission field and I am overjoyed to go. But maybe He has not called you overseas, to the developing world or to missions. In that case I believe you have been anointed to be a sender. I believe that is a truly blessed appointing as you have an incredible opportunity to impact people’s life for Jesus both in the community around you but also by sending “goers” overseas to places you may never get to visit. If my dreams of serving women and children in healthcare ministry stirs your heart then I’d love to welcome you to send me. You can be a sender by investing your finances in my ministry and by praying for me. God’s dreams are so large that I often feel like all I can even see right now is the bottom corner of a portrait that He will reveal overtime and ultimately will blow my mind. I’d love to welcome you to be a part of that!
