Stars and Spiritual Loserdom

Every night we were in Africa we looked up at a magnificent night sky away from the artificial lights of any city and located the two bright stars that point to the southern cross. Beyond amazing.

And every night when we looked up, I thought of my favorite verses in Isaiah 40 that say “Look up on high and see who has created these stars, behold the One who leads forth their host by number. He calls them all by name. Because of the strength of His might and the glory of His power not one of them is missing.”

I think of the names of all the remarkable, courageous people we met in Africa this time - Rose, Angela, Richard, Mary, Myon, Ruthie, Bruce, Potiphar… And so many more.

It is faith-building to know that just as God knows the names of the stars He created, He was in those ends-of-the-earth places in Zambia long before we were and He knows His children by name. In fact Isaiah 36 says He has inscribed our names on the palms of His hands so He will never forget us.

So it was a jolt, yesterday, when I got an email from a friend who had been with us and she wrote, “ I find that I am…thinking about the women and families we met, praying for them, struggling to imagine what life day after day, year after year is like for them. Recognizing that the same scriptures we read and the same Holy Spirit is present among them.”

When I read her note I felt like the most ungodly loser in history. I felt like a cartoon character who had run on flippity, Fred Flinstone feet, crashing right into a closed door. Dazed, and shaking my head, I realized I hadn’t been thinking about those women. At all. I was enjoying Starbucks and my own soft bed and walking by the lake again. Sure, I have given some thought to how to raise money to improve the lives of those we met, but thinking personally about them? Remembering individuals I met who wake up in a mud hut? Struggle against HIV? Walk hours to get dirty water? Putting myself in their place daily? Don’t want to go there.

My friend’s email was convicting and a reminder that that is exactly what God does. He sees them. He walks with them. He grieves with them. He enters into their pain. Their names and ours are engraved on the palms of His hands. I may forget or compartmentalize, but He won’t.

This coming Sunday before worship at our church we’re doing a mile called “Hope Walks” to raise money and awareness for those with AIDS in the Africa. As I walk I will be praying for those we left behind - a very small way to enter back into their pain.