Bent in half I pushed through what could only be considered the “suggestion” of a trail, with generous swaths of razor grass hanging mere centimeters from my face. I could hear the grass and vines scraping the camelback I wore while I focused on following the sliver of sand at my feet. After crossing a swampy creek and winding our way through the underbrush Vernon and I broke into a wide clearing that housed several families in traditional homes on stilts– the object of our quest through the jungle.
It was Thursday, one of my favorite days of the week. The day that the students spend their time putting their education has health workers and missionaries to a practical use. Generally I spend my Thursdays with the students who work at the clinic, so that I can have an opportunity to utilize my social work skills, however this Thursday they needed one more person to visit homes along the river. I was a bit ambivalent about going visiting as students who go visiting offer basic medical care, hydrotherapy, massage, and bible studies, none of which I am well versed in.
I was matched up with Vernon, one of the oldest and quietest students. Vernon had a family in mind he wanted to visit so we sped 20 minutes up the river in our outboard motor boat to locate them. Upon reaching our destination we discovered that the family was not home so we picked another nearby home instead. Our boat pulled ashore and we climbed on the half
submerged dock where a mother of four was doing her weekly laundry. After visiting her and her children we asked about getting to the next set of houses down the river. She informed us that there was no way by land except a swampy overgrown trail. After considering the fact we had over an hour left before the boat would return for us we decided to trek through the jungle.
As we emerged into the clearing we found a group of men lounging on an overturned paddle boat in various stages of drunkenness with bottles of alcohol and cigarettes scattered among them. It was only 9:30am. Vernon said “uh…” so I jumped right in and let the men know that we were visiting families along the river and asked if his family would like a visit. The man closest to me responded by stating. “I know you people, you’ve come before. My family would very much like to a visit. You can find them in the house, but I’ll not be able to participate” and then he indicated the bottle in his hand.
As we neared the house we were met by several women and small children. “Come in, come in!” they said, “We love it when the students visit.” Assuring us that they had no medical needs they asked for a bible study, stating that the children love hearing the stories. So we settled on the rug in their bare living room with three woman and ten children looking expectantly at us.
Vernon began while the group looked on, tried to answer questions, and asked their own questions in return. Half way through two of the men we’d seen outside staggered up the stairs and onto the porch. While one was seriously drunk the other was clearly not and fixing his eyes on me he said, “I have a question for you. I need to know if I can be forgiven.” A bit taken back I stammered out a response and then Vernon continued with the study. But the man was not satisfied. Five minutes later he broke in again, “What if I ask forgiveness for God, but then I do the same thing again, and again and again? I need to know, can I really be forgiven?”
While mentally saying a prayer and wondering what I’d gotten myself into I began to explain to the man, who introduced himself as Kendric, about the God who works with us and our mistakes. Who forgives and accepts us where we are but then shows us how to grow and make changes in our behavior.
Kendric took it all in and then proceeded to tell Vernon and I that he had been raised in a Christian home by “very good Christian parents.” As a young man Kendric had moved out to a larger town and that is when the trouble had begun. Although Kendric did not go into details about his past he let us know he had done a lot he wasn’t proud of. In between his story Kendric paused repeatedly to let us know how happy he was that we’d visited today because he knew he need to make a change in his life.
What followed was one of the most moving moments I’ve witnessed in a long times as Kendric and his entire family got on their knees and Kendric stammered out a simple prayer. Between his tears Kendric told God that he was sorry for the mistakes he had made, and for not being a good example to his wife and ten children. “I’m not a good man, but I want to be. Please help me. I’m ready to come back to you now,” he prayed.
A little later as we pulled away in the boat Kendric, with a huge smile on his face, stood with his arm around his wife and watched us go. "Thank you for coming!" he yelled to be heard above the motor. As our boat sped away I too had a chance to say "thank you." Thank you to the God of second chances, who forgives despite where we’ve been and what we’ve done. Thank you to the God who directs our steps despite our reticence to step outside of our comfort zone.
It was Thursday, one of my favorite days of the week. The day that the students spend their time putting their education has health workers and missionaries to a practical use. Generally I spend my Thursdays with the students who work at the clinic, so that I can have an opportunity to utilize my social work skills, however this Thursday they needed one more person to visit homes along the river. I was a bit ambivalent about going visiting as students who go visiting offer basic medical care, hydrotherapy, massage, and bible studies, none of which I am well versed in.
I was matched up with Vernon, one of the oldest and quietest students. Vernon had a family in mind he wanted to visit so we sped 20 minutes up the river in our outboard motor boat to locate them. Upon reaching our destination we discovered that the family was not home so we picked another nearby home instead. Our boat pulled ashore and we climbed on the half
submerged dock where a mother of four was doing her weekly laundry. After visiting her and her children we asked about getting to the next set of houses down the river. She informed us that there was no way by land except a swampy overgrown trail. After considering the fact we had over an hour left before the boat would return for us we decided to trek through the jungle.As we emerged into the clearing we found a group of men lounging on an overturned paddle boat in various stages of drunkenness with bottles of alcohol and cigarettes scattered among them. It was only 9:30am. Vernon said “uh…” so I jumped right in and let the men know that we were visiting families along the river and asked if his family would like a visit. The man closest to me responded by stating. “I know you people, you’ve come before. My family would very much like to a visit. You can find them in the house, but I’ll not be able to participate” and then he indicated the bottle in his hand.
As we neared the house we were met by several women and small children. “Come in, come in!” they said, “We love it when the students visit.” Assuring us that they had no medical needs they asked for a bible study, stating that the children love hearing the stories. So we settled on the rug in their bare living room with three woman and ten children looking expectantly at us.
Vernon began while the group looked on, tried to answer questions, and asked their own questions in return. Half way through two of the men we’d seen outside staggered up the stairs and onto the porch. While one was seriously drunk the other was clearly not and fixing his eyes on me he said, “I have a question for you. I need to know if I can be forgiven.” A bit taken back I stammered out a response and then Vernon continued with the study. But the man was not satisfied. Five minutes later he broke in again, “What if I ask forgiveness for God, but then I do the same thing again, and again and again? I need to know, can I really be forgiven?”
While mentally saying a prayer and wondering what I’d gotten myself into I began to explain to the man, who introduced himself as Kendric, about the God who works with us and our mistakes. Who forgives and accepts us where we are but then shows us how to grow and make changes in our behavior.
Kendric took it all in and then proceeded to tell Vernon and I that he had been raised in a Christian home by “very good Christian parents.” As a young man Kendric had moved out to a larger town and that is when the trouble had begun. Although Kendric did not go into details about his past he let us know he had done a lot he wasn’t proud of. In between his story Kendric paused repeatedly to let us know how happy he was that we’d visited today because he knew he need to make a change in his life.
What followed was one of the most moving moments I’ve witnessed in a long times as Kendric and his entire family got on their knees and Kendric stammered out a simple prayer. Between his tears Kendric told God that he was sorry for the mistakes he had made, and for not being a good example to his wife and ten children. “I’m not a good man, but I want to be. Please help me. I’m ready to come back to you now,” he prayed.
A little later as we pulled away in the boat Kendric, with a huge smile on his face, stood with his arm around his wife and watched us go. "Thank you for coming!" he yelled to be heard above the motor. As our boat sped away I too had a chance to say "thank you." Thank you to the God of second chances, who forgives despite where we’ve been and what we’ve done. Thank you to the God who directs our steps despite our reticence to step outside of our comfort zone.
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