Generous in grace, thorough in discipline

Dear friend,

                   “God is generous in His grace,

                     and thorough in His discipline.”

                    –Andy Stanley, “White Flag” (DVD)

On Saturday morning John-Paul (the theatre nurse) and I were debriding a large open wound. At the end of the procedure I asked him what dressings we had.

“Mission bandages?” he answered.

“What are mission bandages?” I asked.

“You know, long, thin strips of cotton cloth. I think they used to use the missionaries’ old bed-sheets, so they call them ‘mission bandages.’”

“How interesting!” I replied.

[pause]

“Are you a missionary?” John Paul asked me, point-blank.

“Ummm… [can you sense my hesitation?] well, I’m only here two months… and I’m here more to learn, as I work, because I’m still relatively junior… and… and I think to qualify as a ‘missionary’ you have to give at least… a year?”

With our two heads hovering over a child’s ankle, he looked straight at me and said, “So why don’t you give a year?”

I laughed, taken aback by how simple he made it sound, not realizing how loaded his statement was for me in the context of my experience here.

“Wow, John-Paul,” I replied, chuckling. “You sound like Jesus, Jesus speaking right at me.”

A couple weeks ago I was angry and frustrated at not knowing The Purpose, The Reason, The Point of this trip. It’s divinely ironic because in the evening after writing that post the devotional I have been going through (Oswald Chambers, “My Upmost for His Highest”; the gift from a precious friend and sister in Christ) started a three-part series on Purpose. How we often don’t know (or sometimes don’t ever know) God’s Purpose for x or y, but how he certainly does have a purpose in everything; that growing in oneness with Christ is to Trust in that and not having to always know.

So since then I have been trying to let go of this need to know. I thought, even if this trip chugs along and I leave still wondering, it’s okay. My near-sightedness replaced by Faith in God’s eternal perspective.

Work has continued to be busy and exhausting then I had the incident with the crazy man, which was quickly followed by my getting sick! On Friday I woke up with really, really bad nausea, even having to stop my ward round a few times in order to sit down in the nurses station and dry-wretch. I had complete loss of appetite (which, for those of you who know me would know, is very unusual) and vague abdominal pain. I didn’t eat anything for most of the weekend and subsequently had absolutely no energy. 

After reading through the Tropical Medicine textbook on Sunday morning and convincing myself I had, in the very least, worms (do you know how many weird and wonderful tropical disease cause the constellation of nausea, abdo pain and loss of appetite? Too many!) I spoke to Dr J, who immediately dismissed my notion that it was worms. (“You haven’t been here long enough. They wouldn’t have grown long enough to cause symptoms yet.” Reassuring for now but, note to self, take worm medication before I go home.) Instead, he suggested I take a course of antibiotics geared toward various local tummy bugs.

I spent most of Sunday afternoon on the couch in the fetal position (literally). The nausea got so bad in the evening that while Steph and Mel were at church I went to the bathroom to force myself to vomit – and the little I had to eat that day all came back up.

Utterly feeling sorry for myself and feeling the most alone I have felt, In my distress I called to the LORD – and he answered me. (Jonah 2:2)

Why have I not enjoyed my work here? Back home, my enthusiasm has always made up for any lack in knowledge. Yet here, despite getting the surgical exposure I long for, despite doing similar hours, despite similar roles and responsibilities, I struggled to have any enthusiasm or enjoyment.

Why?

In my distress I called to the LORD and he answered me.

There are no rewards in mission work. It is so different from being a volunteer “visiting specialist” – a few weeks, a month, of travel to an exotic location doing only what you love doing, leaving all the local problems behind with the locals. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not undervaluing the role and impact of giving up your time in that way. I plan on making “visiting specialist” a part of my career regardless of where I end up. But my point is that mission work is so different. Mission work, that long term commitment, is completely thankless by the world’s standards. And the bigger revelation for me on Sunday evening was the reverse of that latter statement: there are so many (worldly) rewards for this job in the Western world! Money, appreciation, prestige, respect, pride… With mission work, none of those exist.

The girl who I talked about in my last post, the girl from Angola who died after two hours of intensive resuscitation, her father returned the next day asking for his money back. (As they are not Zambian they had to pay a registration fee of ~US$5.) He asked for his money back stating we had not helped her, despite the fluids, blood transfusion, oxygen, and all the heart that went into trying to help her in her last hours of life. I’m not implying everyone here is like that, there are many people who are appreciative, but it’s… different. Somehow.

With money, appreciation, prestige, respect and pride out of the equation, you are left with… work, in return for absolutely nothing.

Nothing.

My understanding and insight into service, into true self-sacrifice, has so deepened because of this trip. Not undervaluing the work I, and other doctors, do back home. But when you’re stripped of all returns, all rewards how many of us would, could, keep doing what we do over our lifetimes? Not many, if any.

Not me?

I don’t know how this will impact my work once I am back home, how this will apply once the rewards have returned. But the first step to change is recognizing where change is needed. And I pray – simply – that God would have his way in me.

Very early on this trip I looked at Dr J, at all the missionaries here, and thought to myself, I am most definitely not cut out for mission work. With just two weeks left of my trip, I still don’t think I’m cut out for mission work. But if God does call me to it in the future (who knows!) I know I will be better prepared – physically, emotionally, psychologically – because of this trip and that, “All things are possible through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13)