In high school I wanted to be a counselor. In college I knew I couldn’t because I’d take my work home with me. Today I wanted to be a savior, but tonight I know I can’t be because I took my work home with me and yet there is still so much work left to be done. Now I lay here broken, carrying so many burdens of those that are dying, having a hard time giving it all over to Jesus.
Sometimes life as a missionary is peaceful. You feel close to God. You feel encouraged by your team and loved by those you visit. You even get to experience miracles at times. Sometimes being a missionary is just boring because all you do is the menial everyday tasks of washing clothes, cleaning toilets or carrying out endless garbage bags. Today being a missionary was hard. Hard on my spirit and hard on my emotional strength. Let me tell you a little bit about just one day of living as a missionary in South Africa.
We went into the townships to do home visitations with Auntie Matilda. She is like the Mother Theresa of South Africa. She knows everyone by name and knows their story. She prays for those who are sick, helps to wash or bandage them, helps others get disability grants and shares the Gospel with those who are lost. Today Matilda was gracious enough to let us join her on home visits.
First we met Queeny. She was dying of breast cancer. She laid in her bed, smothered by her blankets and talked about her hope in the Springboks (South African rugby team) bringing home the cup. She was ashamed to let us mop her floor because she wasn’t strong enough to do it herself.
Just up the road we visited with Auntie Poppie who was paralyzed from a stroke. Her broken English led me to believe that she was happy to have some visitors as her immobilization kept her from coming out of her own room. To be honest she said no one had even come in her room to visit in nearly 2 weeks.
Then we met Annie. A frail, thin, 50 year old woman quickly dying of AIDS and TB. She needed to get to the hospital to get an x-ray of her chest, but said she couldn’t afford the 50Rand ($8) cost of a taxi. When we asked if we could pray for her, she pulled the blankets over her head and started to weep. We gently laid hands on her and prayed for peace in the name of Jesus.
We were on our way to visit another man who was sick, but we came across a friend who said we must go pray for a young women named Janet. Janet looked hopeless and empty as she told us that just today she had received her HIV test results back that read positive. While she was in the middle of her story, we got a phone call that Auntie Matilda’s neighbor, also a policeman was in a bad car accident and was unconscious. All we could do was pray.
We left there to visit with Sally, an elderly woman who has not been able to eat in several months. She has some sort of tumor in her throat that will not let food pass, so juice and soup is her only substance. We wanted to read her some scripture verses, but before we could even take our Bibles, she revealed her sacred book from under her pillow and began reading from Psalms. Her spirit seemed lighter after we prayed and sang.
After rounding the corner, we stumbled upon Elizabeth’s house. There was an aroma of hope in this house. Elizabeth had been blind and diabetic for 2 years, until 6 months ago. The Lord had healed her eyes and now she can see. Still, she sat on her wooden bench, her long, thin face, struggling to identify how many people sat in her living room. Her body was the size of an 11 year old, but her spirit was full of thankfulness and praise.
After a long, emotional day of house visitations, Auntie Matilda promised that we would only go visit one more house. On our way to our last house, I ran into a close friend of mine. Normally her smile can light up a room, but today her eyes reflected her wounded past of being beaten by her brother whom was ordered to do so by an ex-fiancee with whom she had recently broken up with.
We finally made it to our last home to visit. Another young girl by the name of Nombilla lived there. Her face and arms were painted with pink lotion to dry up the open sores she had due to the AIDS virus. She began to tell us her story in broken English of her boyfriend leaving her, having and caring for a baby alone, and now receiving no income.
As I lay here tonight, having taken all these burdens home with me, I need to grieve a little bit. I have cried out the pain and suffering that my neighbors are facing. I am still crying out the hopeless feeling I have of being able to do nothing for them. I know I will cry even more as I discover the immeasurable homes that are filled with broken spirits and weakening bodies.
But in the midst of it all, I still must choose to trust Jesus. The song, “Blessed be your name” comes to mind as I repeat the words in my mind, “…when the darkness closes in, still I will say, blessed be your name.” I must choose tonight to let Jesus carry the burdens of these dying people I saw today and the burdens of the whole world. I must surrender my need to be the savior and let the King prove His victory. Because even in the midst of all the darkness of Jeffrey’s Bay, Jesus is still alive and loves His people deeply. I may not be able to carry all the burdens home with me, but Jesus can, so tonight I lay them all at his feet and come back to the heart of worship; trusting in Jesus to be the savior, not myself.
My name is Brenda Ely. Katie is my daughter. I can’t begin to tell you how much the blogs of many of you have blessed and ministered to hearts here at home. Thank you for your willingness to go and preach the gospel through love and srevanthood.We pray for the team at Jeffrey’s Bay and for the work you have been called to do.
Thank you, Katie’s Mom
Chris and Christina, thanks for the honesty of your experiences. As you faced such an emotionally draining day, I thank God for the opportunity you had to bring a moment of relief of joy to those people. I’m reminded of Acts: “Silver and gold have I none, but what I have give I thee. In the name of Jesus Christ, rise up and walk…They went walking and leaping a praising God…” (the nursery versionNV)