My God turns my darkness into light

Psalm 18:28
“You, O Lord, keep my  lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.”

Many times, when we find ourselves in situations that are undesirable, we feel as if we are in the darkness. Hospital stays. Sickness. Vomiting. Headaches. Pain. Needles. Death. Do any of those words bring light to your eyes or a smile to your face? Of course not. But many people are in this very situation as you read this. What can I do to help them? Sometimes the pain is something that cannot be treated. Sometimes the outcome is not what we want. Where do you find the light in that?

Throughout all things, Christ tells us to seek him. He is our stronghold. He will keep us going. He will hold our hand and lead the way home. He listens to our needs, our concerns, our prayers. He hears our voice as we come to Him in prayer. But as we are frail human beings, sometime we cannot always visualize the light. We need tangible objects—something to touch and to feel, to see, to hear.

Matthew 25:35-40

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’”

We can care for Jesus. We can help bring light to those who cannot see it; a simple touch, a caring spirit, that extra moment when you just sit with someone and hold their hand, or you pull their covers up over their shoulders and tuck them in, with each prayer, each song, and each smile. Each patient is a precious soul that belongs to the Lord, and we need to treat them as we would our Savior. I want Christ to be seen in my actions. I want him to guide my hands, guide my words, guide my thoughts, and to lead my heart in His ways. He has shown me suffering, death, sickness, and those who are most vulnerable. But amid all of the sadness, he has shown me light. I have seen Jesus in my companions, my instructors, and many patients. I have seen the way that he shines through the lives of those that I am with on this trip and it brings a smile to my face. He has shown me that even with death and dying, there is still goodness to be seen. For example, my young friend (rafiki) that passed away, is in heaven right now. When the child on pediatrics passed away yesterday as I was on that ward, the grandmother came up to Miss Bingham and said, “Asante sana.” (thank you very much). The culture here has the concept of “to try is to succeed.” This grandmother was so thankful for all of the help that had been given, and even though the baby passed away, she was grateful for the efforts put forth. She saw light in the darkness.

Last night during debriefing, Ashli introduced us all to a new song by Christy Nockels called Sing Along. Below are the lyrics.

From babies hidden in the shadows
To the cities shining bright
There are captives weeping
Far from sight
For every doorway has a story
And some are holding back the cries
But there is One who hears at the night

Great God
Wrap Your arms around this world tonight
Around the world tonight
And when You hear our cries
Sing through the night
So we can join in Your song
And sing along
We'll sing along

From the farthest corners of the earth
Still His mercy reaches
Even to the pain we cannot see
And even through the darkness
There's a promise that will keep us
There is One who came to set us free

Great God
Wrap Your arms around this world tonight
Around the world tonight
And when You hear our cries
Sing through the night
So we can join in Your song
And sing along
We'll sing along

So let Your song rise
And fill up the earth
Let Your hope ring out
Let Your heart be heard

This song touches my heart. I am in love with it, and if I had faster internet access and my itunes account I would buy it in a heartbeat. It reminds me that yes, God can wrap his arms around me, yes he hears me when I cry out, He will set us free, and He will sing with us.

I stumbled upon this verse today:

Romans 12:9-13

“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.”

This verse motivates me to love unconditionally. It’s a simple reminder to be persistent with love, and to share in suffering when our brothers or sisters are suffering. We can face the pain together.

I needed words from Christ and His Word after a long hard day. I am currently on female ward, which I have come to find as my favorite ward. There is one child that I feel very called to, but I know that I must be very aware of my actions and spread my time out equally among all of my patients. This little girl is 6 or 7 years old, and is covered in burns all over her body. I believe I have blogged about her before. Today was the day for her dressing change, which terrifies her. As soon as we walked over to her bed with the stretcher to transport her to minor theatre, she began screaming and crying. I went over there and scooped her up in my arms to transport her to the stretcher. She cannot weigh more than 35 or 40 pounds at the most—her skin stretching taut over her bones. As Ashli and I rolled her down the concrete hallway, we each held one hand and sang Jesus Loves Me over and over again. She seemed to calm down some, but as soon as we entered the surgery room, she started screaming again. I picked up her fragile body and placed her on the operating table. Ashli and I held her hands and continued to sing to her as we waited for Dr. Black to come in with the ketamine which would sedate her for the procedure. She screamed out many Swahili words as she was receiving the medication through IV and we asked Dr. Black what the translation was. He informed us that she was saying she was going to die. My heart sunk even further because those words stung just as bad as her screams. With assistance from Anna and Alaina we were able to get her all cleaned up and coated with new treatment creams and all patched up with fresh gauze. Her burns were healing, and her wounds were approximating, as we had hoped. She is such a fighter and traveling on the road to recovery. Yet again, I picked her up to transfer her back to the stretcher to return to her bed in female ward. We got her situated and comfortable in order for her to rest. The ketamine wore off throughout the early morning and when she woke up, she was frightened. Her mother had left to get lunch and she was terrified. Ashli and I couldn’t understand what she wanted, but eventually realized we think she wanted to be held. I asked if I could stay with her, and Ashli helped get her on my lap, being very cautious of her wounds and trying not to cause any unnecessary pain. She cuddled right up and and placed her head on my shoulder. Almost immediately, her tears ceased and she calmed down. Then my tears started to trickle down my face. I rocked her in my arms for awhile, and then she started tearing up again. I layed her back down on the bed and tucked her in with all of her blankets brought from home. She loved this various brown assorted checkered fleece blanket. I made sure to have that one on top where she could see it and hold it. Then I layed down next to her, found her tiny hand and placed it in mine. With my other hand I began gently running my hand over her head, and wiped her tears off of her eyes. Her crying and whimpering slowly ceased and she closed her eyes as she drifted off to sleep. The tension left her face and she began to look so peaceful. I just stared for a few minutes, thanking God for her rest, and then got up to help out with other patients.

Sometimes I find myself wondering how God could let this happen to such a young girl. Why her? Why here, as a victim of this culture where resources are limited? It’s not fair. I want to be able to take her pain away. I want to question God. And then on the other hand I feel guilty for thinking such thoughts. I know that God is in control and that he is comforting her. It’s a round-about that continues to circle through my thoughts. I know that God is the light in the darkness, and I know his fingerprints are on her healing. My prayer is that he blesses this child with healing, with comfort, and an ease from the fear and pain that she is surrounded by. 

Matthew 5:14-16

"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."