A few nights ago, we had English Peas for dinner. One of my sons cleverly hid his peas inside his potatoes and chicken, and ate them without complaint. The other one, however, got so worked up over eating the “disgusting” peas that I am certain that our neighbours thought we were torturing him. Tears, pleading, and an adamant “I can’t do this!” ensued.
After an hour of trying all the techniques, I decided to try something new. I asked him to trust me and told him that he could – in fact – do it, then I shoved the peas in his mouth! He started to gag as tears welled up in his eyes, when I quickly said, “You can do it! But first listen to this!” As he chewed the peas, I told him this story from my college days:
The summer after my junior year in university, I joined a friend in a small mountain town in Honduras to help work on a mobile medical clinic for the summer. Every day was an adventure, it seemed, as we travelled through the jungles and helped people, who would otherwise not have adequate medical care.
One morning, however, I woke up quite ill. My stomach was aching and I had a fever. The 4-hour truck ride through rough terrain seemed impossible. As I silenced my alarm and rolled over, I suddenly felt like God was asking me to go. ‘But I’m sick,’ I whispered out loud. ‘Go anyway,’ was the reply.
After slowly getting myself together, I met the team. The travel was so much worse than I could have imagined. At one point, we even crossed over a bridge that had no rails – the rushing river below looked horrifying. When we finally arrived, I jumped out of the van and started looking for a washroom. I saw a lady working at a small food stall and asked her in Spanish if there was a place I could use.
She proudly said that there was only one washroom in the village and that she owned it. She gave me a few squares of toilet paper and pointed to what can only be described as a small, wooden Port-o-potty. When I opened the door, what I saw (and smelled) immediately made me vomit. For the next 30 minutes or so, I was continuously sick until I began to drift into unconsciousness. I remember thinking, ‘God, I’m good. You can just take me home to heaven. There is no way I’m going to survive this.’
After a little more time, I slowly began to regain my strength and found my way back to the food stall lady. She could tell I was unwell and gave me some water to drink. I told her about the medical camp we were having right up the road and offered to pay her doctor fees (about 70 rupees). She was grateful and walked with me to the camp.
When I checked her blood pressure, I found that it was 250/180. She had been having a headache for days and was now having difficulty seeing. She was at an extremely high risk for having a stroke at any moment. We got her some medication and prayed over her. After a few minutes, she began to feel relief for the first time in days. When she asked why we came, a couple of the Honduran women on our team told her that we help others because we follow Jesus Christ.
Suddenly, it hit me. God had this all planned out. If I hadn’t been sick, I wouldn’t have asked for a washroom. If the shop keeper hadn’t helped me, I wouldn’t have offered to pay her doctor fee. Without the money, she wouldn’t have come to the clinic and received the help she needed. Without the medication and the contact with the two ladies on our team, perhaps she would have died without ever hearing the name of Jesus.”
My son (who had long since finished chewing the peas) looked up at me and said, “I get it, Mom. This is the reason that you are always telling us to do hard things.” I smiled and gave him a hug. “And I’ll keep telling you and your brothers and myself to ‘do hard things’ until the day I die.”
I wish I could say with certainty that only good things will come to you in this new year, but the truth is, I can’t. What I can tell you is this: we don’t have to be afraid of the hard things, for it is the hard things that help build our character and make us more patient and more grateful. It is the hard things that give us a reason to hope. It is the hard things that help us to develop empathy for others. It is the hard things that allow us to identify with Jesus Christ in His sufferings. It is through the hard things that we know Jesus and in the hard things that we make Him known.
“We are pushed hard from all sides. But we are not beaten down. We are bewildered. But that doesn’t make us lose hope. Others make us suffer. But God does not desert us. We are knocked down. But we are not knocked out. We don’t give up. Our bodies are becoming weaker and weaker. But our spirits are being renewed day by day. Our troubles are small. They last only for a short time. But they are earning for us a glory that will last forever. It is greater than all our troubles. So we don’t spend all our time looking at what we can see. Instead, we look at what we can’t see. That’s because what can be seen lasts only a short time. But what can’t be seen will last forever.” (2 Corinthians 4:8–9,16–18)
“I want to know Christ better. Yes, I want to know the power that raised him from the dead. I want to join him in his sufferings. I want to become like him by sharing in his death.” (Philippians 3:10)
“Your faith will be tested. You know that when this happens it will produce in you the strength to continue. The strength to go on produces character. Character produces hope.” (James 1:3; Romans 5:4)
Jen Schottleutner lives in New Delhi with her husband and three boys. She is willing to endure almost anything, if it means ending up with a good story to tell later on!