It Is Well

It’s almost the one-month count down until I take a plane for the first time in 9 months back home to good old America. I am having so many thoughts going through my head. So many that it is hard for me to even sleep at night. What am I going to be like when I get home? Has this experience changed me? Have I experienced everything I needed to? Am I ever going to see my family and friends from Koza again? I know it is going to be hard to say goodbye, but in some aspects I am ready for another adventure. Since I’ve been back from my trip to the southwest of Cameroon, I have been trying to treasure every minute I have with the people I love. The minute I got back to Koza I got sick again, so that hasn’t worked out to well. I am a little discouraged. When I first came here in September, I told myself that I would do anything to relate to the people, culture, and environment around me. I took it a little too far when I started to drink the water that was offered to me, knowing that it was dirty and started eating the food that was offered to me, knowing that it was not prepared well. It hurt me deep down inside that I couldn’t be like them… I felt like refusing to eat or drink with them was sending a message that I was better than them, and I would give anything to explain the poor that I am not better than them in the slightest, but the culture disagrees. Apparently, I am better just because of my skin color. After 9 months of Typhoid, Malaria, and worms I have come to the conclusion that I am different. Not “better” different, but my stomach can’t handle the same things their stomachs can, and believe me, I have learned that the hard way.

When I came back to Koza from my trip, I quickly unpacked and went to visit those who are closest to me here. When I went to the market to see my good friends Fadimatou and Aissatu, I realized how much I am going to miss being here with them and sharing with them. Seeing their children run to me screaming “Eliza Eliza!!!” put a big warm feeling in my heart. I’m not going to have an easy time saying goodbye.

            The other day, Madam Ambassador saw me in the market. She is one of the mothers I have gotten extremely close with. Her husband works in the hospital and she sells food outside the hospital. She has about 7 kids and is very very poor. I pray with her and talk to her fairly often. Recently she lost her father to a horrible disease, and her uncle passed away as well. It has been a rough go for her, but you should see her smile. It is like nothing has ever happened. Today… she was not smiling. After she was done selling all the food that she had left in the market, she followed me back to my house. By this time, it is millions of degrees outside, and I am sweating bullets. We met up with Voia, her 10 year old daughter, on the way to my house. I got her some water and just sat outside on the porch with both her and her daughter. She was exhausted and I could tell it wasn’t just from the day. Her heart was heavy. I asked her to talk to me. She began to tell me how hard life has been and that her family doesn’t have any money to survive right now after her uncle and father have passed away. There is no outside care for the family. I knew where this conversation was going, and I knew that she was going to ask me for money. I have made a rule to myself not to give money to anyone because if I give money to one person, then everyone will want money, and it is not fair. Ambassador’s family is different. She makes me food for free and takes care of me like I am her only child! My heart sake as she began to tell me her situation. She was completely out of food for her family… my family! She had tried everything, but things just weren’t working out… she was literally starving. I asked her what she wanted me to do. I was a little rude at first and said; “you are you asking me for money aren’t you…?” she look at me and said the amount and that she would pay me back later. All of a sudden I realized how selfish I was being by holding back. This was my mother. She has never asked me for anything! I snapped back into it and told her that I would help. Coming out with 10,000 cfa and a pack of Asian noodles for her family to cook for the night, she gave me that classic smile I had missed since earlier. She didn’t leave right away, but we sat there just looking at each other for a minute. We both know how fast these next few weeks are going to go. I leaned over and told her that when I think about this situation happening again with her family and I am not there to help, I feel like crying. Instantly, the tears starting rolling down my face without warning. I buried my eyes in my face for a split moment so they wouldn’t see me, but upon looking up, I saw that both Madam Ambassador and her child were shedding tears. We prayed together that God will protect.

            It seems like such an unfair world here. I have seen how much poverty destroys family’s here. If you think that the whole country of Cameroon is poor, think again. It seems that only the Extreme Nord has gotten the worst of it. When I traveled down to the southwest of Cameroon, you could pick off food of trees everywhere you went. I know there is poverty there too… but coming back to Koza makes me realize how much suffering we go through here. There is barely enough water, and the food is scarce. It hurts me to watch…

            I had worship this week with the whole hospital. I’m still not confident enough to speak French to a whole crowd of people, but that day will comeJ I usually start thinking about what to say when Papa Sidi asks me to speak. I never have a clear and distinct subject until the night before or the morning of. It is when I pray and ask God to direct me when it suddenly comes to me. Sometimes I might even have a whole thing in mind, but the Lord directs me in a completely different direction the morning of worship. I little nerve racking, but it always turns out fine and I always know that God put it on my heart to say. This mornings worship I decided to talk about suffering. Too often during worship does the speaker talk about working hard or giving it all we got… things that burden many people in the group. I’m not saying those are bad things to talk about, but when I see women carrying huge logs twice the size of their body on their head with a child strapped onto their back and a goat hanging from their hand, I don’t think they need a lecture about working harder. I decided to talk about suffering and encouraged them that though we go through suffering here, God has got a crown of glory for each one of us. I spoke about the peace that God gives us in the midst of suffering. Koza does not have a choice to be living in this kind of environment, BUT they do have a choice about choosing God to help them persevere. I believe that God will reward Koza… big time! I ended with these verses:

“To the present hour we are hungry and thirsty, poorly clothed, brutally treated, and without a roof over our heads. We do hard work, toiling with our own hands. When we are verbally abused, we respond with a blessing, when persecuted, we endure, when people lie about us, we answer in a friendly manner. We are the world’s dirt and scum, even now”

BUT

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them. Blessed are those who morn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be shown mercy”

… and they will be shown mercy.

There is a story about a man that reflects just a little of what people go through here. He wrote the song “It Is Well”. His story is one of tragedy, pain, and discouragement… but he learned how to say “It Is Well”. I plead to God today that through tragedy and pain I will learn how to say, “It is well with my soul. Father, I have peace.”

The Power of Prayer

Again, much has happened… God has been present, moving, and performing miracles right in front of me. I have been learning a lot about the thousands of ways God provides for me and others even when I am unaware. I’ve been catching glimpses of things I will miss as I start to wind down my trip in this not very beautiful place. I’m blessed… truly blessed to have gone through the trial I have and seen the beauty I have seen in each person I have come in counter with. Last week, as I was packing my bags to take close to a three-week vacation for travel, I spent more time visiting those I loved then by myself in my house getting ready to leave. I will only be gone for a little while, and yet I am starting to look at all of my loved ones differently. I look at them with emotions stirred up in my head. This trip to the southwest of Cameroon is like a preparation of what is to come. I might never see any of these people again… thank God for the second coming☺
    As I packed my bags last week to come to visit the southwest of Cameroon, I had a checklist in my head. I need my passport, enough money, food for the trip, a motercycle taxis ready, clothes to last me, being on time, pray, and more. I woke up at 4 o clock the next morning to travel 45 minutes on a motorcycle to make it to the first bus leaving Mokolo to Maura. We made it on time at 6:20 am. After arriving in Maoura 2 your later, we quickly took another mototaxi to the next bus taking us from Maoura to Ngaundere (9 hour bus ride). Everything had to go smoothly because the train from Ngaundere only leaves at 6 pm everyday. We wanted to make it on time so we didn’t have to spend the night in Ngaundere, making our trip even longer and more exhausting. The bus ride seemed to take a lifetime, but we made it on time to the train. Both Bahana and I were starving and thirsty so I bought some bananas, bread, and juice for the next trip. The train would take from 6:30 pm to 8 am the next morning. We tried to find the most comfortable seats. Obviously, being that we were in a small seat for two and facing another small seat with two or three people, the night didn’t go down so well. I didn’t get much sleep. Instead, I read one book almost straight through. It was a book my mother gave me. I don’t have it with me but I think it is called Baptism, Holy Spirit, and Prayer. You might be familiar with the title. The chapters captivated me as I sat in the small section of seat I had. I ended up reading the whole 11 chapters except the last remaining chapter. This will become important later.
    Arriving in Younde was like arriving in downtown Hawaii. It was humid, green, and English speaking! Much, much different from my home back in Koza. Bahana’s sister picked us up and I rested there for a few minutes before I had to take the trip from Younde to Buea where I would meet up with my missionary friends working in the hospital there. I left the house around 11 am to take the hardest part of my journey, finally arriving safely in Buea around 5 pm on the 29th of March, making this trip a complete 24 hours☺
    In the bus that I had to take from Younde to Buea I had a Holy Spirit encounter with the woman sitting right next to me. Remember how I didn’t seem finish the last chapter in my book Baptism, Holy Spirit, and Prayer? Knowing that I wasn’t going to be comfortable enough on the bus to sleep, I took out that book to read the last chapter. As I started to read it the woman next to me, Elizabeth, casually asked me what it was about. I quickly told her it was about how to have a powerful consistent prayer life… and I got back to reading. After I finished reading the chapter, I thought she might want to scan over it and read it. She accepted. After seeing her read the back, the first chapter, and continue, I started praying that the Holy Spirit would direct her to the truths found in that book. From the time I gave her the book a little after we left Younde until soon arriving in Buea, she read. I tried to pray consistently from the time she started reading until the end. She was trying to finish the book before we arrived. After the 7th chapter she turn to me with a look of amazement. I asked her if she liked the book. She began to tell me her story. She said, “This book has answered all of my questions about Prayer. I had three questions in my mind about prayer and the Holy Spirit and this book has made it abundantly clear to me”. She also began to explain that earlier that morning she had prayed for God to show her favor, and to show her something to increase her faith. I had been in the right place at that bus station, in the right seat, at the right time. Not knowing it, I had been moved by the Holy Spirit to stop a chapter before my book was finished so I could open it up in the bus for Elizabeth to see… an opportunity to renew her life with Christ. I told her that the Holy Spirit works in miraculous ways, and he put both of us together for a reason. She had one question about the gift of tongues that God had impressed me to study about the summer before just to have this encounter with her. I ended up giving her the book and we exchanged emails. She told me after she was finished with the book; she was going to give it to her mother. Both my life and life of hers was shaken by the power of God and the power of prayer. I thank Him for using me as an instrument for good. The Lord opens my eyes slowly to the things that are literally out-of-this-world. My prayer is that not only that Elizabeth grows in her walk of faith and prayer, but that each one of us can see the glory of God moving in our lives. I’m no better than any man on this earth, and I will bow at the feet of Jesus when He comes again, but God wants to work through us. We are His instruments, even if we don’t want to be.