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 ust
one more day. Just one more day,
I kept telling myself as I made my way down a dusty path to
the hospital entrance. It was still early morning, but I could
feel the sun beating down on the back of my neck. My arms ached
from the weight of the large box of medicine and other supplies
I was carrying. It was the fifth and last day of a free medical
project in a rural area of Nigeria, where other members of the
Family International and I were assisting a team of volunteer
doctors and other medical professionals. After four very long
days on my feet and with little sleep, I was irritable and ready
to go home. Walking past the long lines of people who had come
for treatment—many
having arrived before dawn—all I could think |
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of was taking a shower and getting a good night's sleep in my
own bed. Just one more day. I can survive one more day.
Inside, while setting up for the
doctors, I was oblivious to the looks of hope and expectancy
in the eyes of mothers as they patiently held and comforted
their sick children. I also didn't notice the grateful smiles
of patients who had been helped on previous days and had returned
for further treatment. All I wanted was to get the day behind
me. |
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There
are three kinds of giving: grudge giving, duty giving,
and thanksgiving. Grudge giving says, "I have to";
duty giving says,
"I ought to"; thanksgiving says,
"I want to."
—Robert N. Rodenmayer,
Thanks Be to God (1960)
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I rushed around flustered, hurried, annoyed. I knew what my
job was, and I was going to do it. Just please, everyone,
stay out of my way!
Lord, I prayed, my back
is killing me, and my feet feel like they've been put through
a meat grinder. Please, please make this day go quickly! …Where
are the doctors? Their tardiness was putting a damper on
my double-time mode of operation.
As I stepped outside to see if
any of them were in sight, Jesus spoke to me in that ever so
loving voice I often hear in my mind. Stephanie, what does
it say in 1 Corinthians chapter 13?
Gulp! Without love, our good
works are nothing, Lord, I answered.
Exactly! He said. You're
helping people physically, but they also need healing for their
spirits. They need to see My love shining through you, and they
need to feel it, too. You need to be My face and hands and feet,
showing them My love. Without love, all your hard work and sacrifice
are for nothing.
I was working long hours—“giving
my body to be burned” (1 Corinthians 13:3)—but I'd
forgotten the most important thing. I'd forgotten to love those
I was there to serve. Jesus, please forgive me, I prayed.
After that reminder from the Lord,
everything seemed to change for the better. He helped me slow
down and take time to connect with each patient.
A short while later, I noticed
that the patients waiting for general surgery all looked scared
or worried, so I grabbed a stack of poster tracts and passed
them out, starting at the head of the line. The first man read
the title out loud—“Why Worry? You Are in God's Hands”—and
everyone started laughing as they realized they weren't just
putting themselves in the doctors' hands, but ultimately in
God's hands. Surely He could take care of the situation! I found
myself laughing with them, and suddenly my back and feet didn't
hurt anymore. The sky seemed bluer, the heat not as intense.
I wanted to both enjoy the day and spend every minute of it
well, giving all I could to these people who had so little.
Instead of wanting it to end as quickly as possible, I wanted
it to last as long as possible so I could give as much
love as the Lord had given me. |
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