07.13.2017
The past two and a half weeks have been incredibly rich and complicated. As a group, we’ve felt both the burden of human suffering and the glory of God that outweighs it all. Just the other night, we exited the church building to find a middle-aged man who had just overdosed on heroin. He petitioned us to call 911 for him. The ambulance arrived promptly. Just as we were praying for him, he got out of the ambulance and skulked away, full of apologies and steeped in shame. We looked on, helpless and unsurprised (we had been told shame was the norm for addicts). Just as the ambulance left, another man strolled up to us, smelling of weed and thirsting for God. He shared that he had been watching a series about the life of Jesus, and that despite receiving Jesus as a child, he felt no happiness. As another student prayed for him, I watched his face contort into what I hoped was the grimace of a contrite and broken heart. When we had finished praying, his eyes were wet with tears, and he began to share some of his life story. But it was late; we had to excuse ourselves and go to bed.
The first man had walked away from us and we had walked away from the second. Had this been our first night at SMI, it might have been hard to shake the thought that we had abandoned both. But I knew we had done all we could to point them to Jesus. It was the most important thing we could do. Our mission to make Christ known has borne us through subtle doubts and crushing discouragements as we go door-to-door offering health screenings and prayer. Our impact is, in a human estimation, unremarkable. We’re mere students training to be mere professionals. Most of us don’t know these neighborhoods. We plant seeds but rarely see the fruit. Sometimes, all we get is a glimpse into someone’s suffering before the door shuts in our face and there’s nothing more we can do. Many times, I left a house, frustrated at warped theology, offended at a lack of interest in Jesus, or disheartened by my powerlessness.
Even the wonderful experiences can be incredibly draining. We’ve had meaningful and joyful conversations with patients. We’ve met Christians in the community who are blessing their neighbors and who have shared incredible testimonies. Personally, some of the sweetest blessings God have come through my fellow SMI students and staff. They’ve spurred me on to greater faith, love, and obedience; they’ve shown me that when God’s people make a joyful sound to Him, music becomes worship; they’ve demonstrated the power of God that enables us to speak to one another in grace and truth. But at the end of each day, everything must be laid before the Lord so we can rest. That can be difficult.
In 2 Corinthians 12:10, Paul says he boasts in his weaknesses because they connect him to the power of Christ. “For when I am weak, then I am strong.” And as Jesus warned us, “apart from me you can do nothing.” The helplessness that drives us to Jesus keeps us in Jesus. He is exalted when we allow Him to will and to work for His good pleasure. We scatter the seeds of the gospel, spending ourselves for His kingdom. As the sun goes down we can sleep soundly, knowing that we work for the God who neither slumbers nor sleeps.