Dangerous Business

To paraphrase J.R.R. Tolkien, "It's a dangerous business, going to work at Hospitals of Hope. You step into the office, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

In my case, that means being swept off to Bolivia for a couple of months. Tomas and Iris Ortiz, our guest house hosts, have taken a job in Canada, and their replacements won't be able to start for a few months. In the interim, I'll be filling in, taking care of our volunteers, speaking a lot of Spanish, and trying to learn how to cook at a high altitude (about 9,500 feet).

I'll be continuing to do parts of my job from Bolivia, as well as working with the hospital administration and coordinating volunteer work. I'm excited for the challenge and adventure of adjusting to Bolivian culture and getting to know some wonderful volunteers, as well as hospital staff, patients, and kids at the nearby orphanages.

But I'll have my work cut out for me, and I'll be leaving a fair amount of work behind me here at the office, as well. This is where you come in. :)

There are two things I'd like to ask of all of you. The first is that you pray. Pray for Tomas and Iris and their family as they adjust to life in Canada, as well as for me, for our volunteers in Bolivia, for our hospital staff, for all those we serve, and for our staff and volunteers here in Wichita.

The second is that you'd consider pitching in here at the office while I'm gone. There will be more sorting and inventorying to do in the warehouse, construction work on Clinics in Cans, general office work, and possibly event planning to do. I'll still be in the office for the next week and a half, so, if you're interested in helping out, I'd love to meet with you and discuss how you can get involved. You can call me at 316.262.0964 or email me at leta@hospitalsofhope.org.

I'll be updating the blog and our facebook page (facebook.com/hospitalsofhope) from Bolivia, so stay tuned to learn more about my adventures!

Summer in Liberia: A Volunteer Story

We have a team of students from Wheaton College serving at ELWA Hospital in Liberia this summer. When HOH staff traveled to Liberia a couple of weeks ago, we interviewed them about their experiences. Here are some excerpts from one of the interviews:

My name is Peter Wickwire, and I’m part of a group of three that has come to ELWA Hospital in Monrovia, Liberia for 6 weeks. We’ve had a blast so far. It’s been about 4 weeks, and each week has given us something entirely different than the one before it.

I went to the OR to start with. I’m so thankful I went to the OR. It was a really good landing for me in the clinic. The OR is pretty much like the functioning ER, the functioning operating room. The first couple days were difficult to get settled into. I don’t think they were used to premed students coming in. They didn’t understand back then that we were really here to be taught, and then, using what we’re taught, serve. It was really just watching people, shadowing from the corner, silently watching people.

Really my in was that I watched a nurse folding gauze for surgery and wound dressings, and the next day, without them asking, I just got up and started doing it, and he’s just like, “Oh, where’d you learn how to do that?” They kind of realized that we can learn, and so time went on and day after day I started doing more things, learning new things.

I saw a c-section one day. It was the first c-section I had ever seen in my life. The next surgery after that was another c-section, and they’re like, “Okay, Peter, you’re scrubbing on this one.” I was like “What are you talking about?” but I ended up scrubbing on the surgery, and it was a really neat experience.

After the first week or so, I think they really picked up on the fact that really we’re here to be taught and really here to just serve them, and they really started understanding that and utilizing that. Also, I think what helped was founding relationships with them and spending time just talking, and learning, and exchanging personal stories and life stories of how the war has shattered this country. It’s good to hear their stories of what they had to go through. It kind of opens doors for you to be part of their lives.

I think one of the difficult things for me being in Liberia is this place is really so torn. The buildings you see when you’re driving by are a living history of the war that happened so recently. It’s hard to be in a country so full of pain and just coming out of that. It’s a beautiful time, and yet it’s a difficult time.

I think my favorite thing of being in the clinic has not been delivering a baby or stitching up patients but getting to know the Liberians and speaking Liberian English to them and joking around with them and them loving to see that I’m trying to learn their culture. People are really grateful.

This trip has been so beneficial to me as a premed student looking in the future to going into medicine internationally, to use it for furthering Christ and his kingdom, and I couldn’t have thought of a better experience for me. They’re kind of teaching me what it looks like to use the resources that you have, which here are very limited, to give the best health care possible. There is just such a pressing need for help in this country, and it was good to visualize that. It’s a renewed fuel to the passion and fire I had to become an international physician. I really hope to someday come back and serve in a country like this, if not maybe here.

"Teacher, don't you care if we drown?"

Life, on the mission field or off, can be overwhelming at times. Coming home from a mission trip often leaves volunteers unsure how to live in a world that now seems much bigger than it did before. Often, they’re confronted with heartbreaking poverty and the reality that, even with all our relative wealth and privilege, there is only so much we can do.

Being here at home isn’t necessarily easier. People disappoint us, work can be difficult—if we can even find it, in this economy--, and church doesn’t always help.

I was thinking earlier today about the story of the disciples in the boat with Jesus, when the storm seems about to capsize the boat and Jesus is just lying there, peacefully sleeping. The disciples wake him and ask, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

Sometimes, when life gets overwhelming, I think all of us feel like asking that question.

When the disciples wake Jesus, he calms the storm. Once it has died down, he asks the disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

It seems perfectly reasonable for the disciples to have been freaking out a little when it looked like they were all about to drown. But the reality is that they didn’t really have to wake Jesus up. He had things taken care of. He wasn’t going to let the boat sink.

It can be hard to remember, and even harder to believe, that the storms in our lives aren’t big enough to upset God’s boat. Sometimes they seem pretty huge.

Today, I’m praying that we will remember that we have no need to fear. We follow Jesus, and even the wind and the waves obey him.

Hope in the Midst of Suffering

Nestor Hugo, our staff pastor in Bolivia, just returned from a training conference. This translation is from the update he sent us on his return to the hospital.

Tuesday, July 6, at 7:35 in the morning, the first thing I did was visit the inpatients. Of the 30 that had arrived as a result of the tragic bus accident, there were still a few, among them a man named Jorge* from the village of Sacaba who had had his arm amputated. After presenting the Plan of Salvation, I prayed for him and blessed his food. A little before I left, he asked me in Quechua to cut his bread for him because his right arm was in a cast and had an IV.

Preaching a little later in the waiting room to nearly 20 people, I began to cry because of seeing the suffering of our fellow human beings, and nearly all who heard the message of the Plan of Salvation prayed the prayer inviting Jesus Christ to enter their hearts.

The first day back in my pastoral ministry, I had another blessing because two brothers in Christ, members of the Gideons, came with me to the prayer room and asked me how many inpatients and medical personnel we had, to give them New Testaments with Psalms and Proverbs. After praying with me, they personally gave the New Testaments to the inpatients, doctors, and paramedics, as well as to the patients waiting for appointments.

May the immense love of our Eternal Heavenly Father, the infinite grace of our redeemer, and the real intervention of the Holy Spirit be with all of us today and forever. Amen.

* Name changed.

What's the Matter with Missionaries?

In Sunday school one day, I was surprised to hear someone comment about how much they disliked “missionaries.” I never got the chance to hear exactly where they were coming from, but I have a few ideas. Missionaries are often dismissed as culturally insensitive, patronizing, and imperialist. (Check out the recent post on the God’s Politics Blog about this topic.)

Sometimes, unfortunately, that’s true.

On the opposite end of the spectrum are those who glorify missionaries. A missionary, many believe, is someone who has given up everything to follow Christ, sacrificing their chances at a normal life in order to win souls.

That’s also sometimes true.

I fall somewhere in the middle between these two positions. I don’t really think missionaries are in a special category, either for honor or for criticism. We’re all called to love our neighbors as ourselves, be sensitive to their cultures and experiences, and take up our cross daily. We are all going to face challenges, discouragements, and disillusionment. But we all also have the same opportunity to take part in the unfolding of God’s plan.

My perspective on this is undoubtedly shaped by my background. I’ve never really thought of myself as a “missionary,” although that’s sort of what I am, I guess. I work full-time for a “missions” organization, and I have spent significant amounts of time abroad, doing “missions.” But I’ve never really thought of myself as a missionary, and I’ve never seen myself as making any significant sacrifices.

I don’t by any means want to downplay the sacrifices made by some, but, at the same time, I think we run into a problem when we start counting up our sacrifices or overly exalting the sacrifices made by others. I think that that is often where we start running into problems with cultural insensitivity—acting like we have all the answers, and, since we’re making such sacrifices to tell them, they’d better listen.

I like the attitude of David Livingstone, the famous missionary to Africa, much better. He once said, “For my own part, I have never ceased to rejoice that God has appointed me to such an office. People talk of the sacrifice I have made in spending so much of my life in Africa…. I never made a sacrifice.”

I don’t really know a whole lot about David Livingstone’s methods, and I’m sure he made a few errors. (Don’t we all?) But I do think he got this right: Following God’s call is never a sacrifice. God loves us, and where he leads is the path to joy.

A Whirlwind Trip in an Ambulance

A bucket of chicken, a Tom-Tom and two ambulances- that's just about all we took with us on a recent trip to the port at Houston. Four of us drove the new ambulances through the night from Wichita, KS to Houston, TX in order to get them on a ship headed to Bolivia. We encountered torrential downpours, sleep deprivation and problems with the port authority, but in the end everything went fine. Now the ambulances are headed down to serve at our hospital in Cochabamba, Bolivia.

We currently have two ambulances serving the hospital in Bolivia, but they are old (1990 & 1993) and have a lot of wear on them from driving in the mountains. Yost Auto Service, here in Wichita, has done a great job of helping us get the necessary parts to maintain those ambulances, but they are in continual need of repairs. There continues to be a huge need for ambulances in Cochabamba because of the large number of accidents that occur in the mountains, but there are very few actual ambulances operating in the city (most are vans or trucks that have been crudely converted). To make matters worse, the Bolivian government recently passed an ordinance outlawing the importation of any vehicle older than four years into the country, making it very difficult to send any affordable ambulances.

However, a few months ago Hospitals of Hope found three nice 2006 diesel ambulances at auction. Each one costs $125,000 new, but they were selling for much less, so we jumped at the chance to get them for pennies on the dollar. Who would have thought that we could find new ambulances that met the criteria set by the Bolivian government for such a great price? I am reminded of Matthew 6:25-34, where Jesus says that we have no need to worry because our Father knows our needs. Here at HOH, we continually see God's faithfulness in all that we do.

The two ambulances that we sent are in fantastic shape and will be able to dramatically improve emergency response around Cochabamba. The third ambulance does not have an engine, so we are in the process of getting a new one put in. If you would be interested in helping to contribute to a new engine, please contact me at daniel@hospitalsofhope.org.

~Daniel

Praying Big

A friend of mine told me a couple of months ago that she was going to give God a chance to say no.

You see, she’d been praying vague, unspecific prayers—the kind that it’s impossible to tell if God is answering. After talking with her, I realized that I do the same thing all the time. I bring up a situation to God and then say, basically, “Well, I don’t really know what you want to do here, so I’ll just let you take care of it.”

In some ways, that’s a good thing—being willing to surrender to God’s will, knowing that he’s in charge. But that’s not really what I was doing. Really, I wasn’t trusting God to take care of my concerns; I was afraid to tell him what I wanted for fear that he’d say no, or, worse, that he wouldn’t answer at all.

My friend’s solution to this problem was to start being honest with God—to tell him what she really wanted. The Psalmist tells us, “Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge” (Psalm 62:8). Saying, “Okay, God, your will be done” isn’t really pouring out our hearts. I think real prayer is pouring out our hearts and still being able to say, “Your will be done.”

It can be hard to pray specifically about all of the need we see. We’re a small organization, and what we can do is limited. But our God is not.

I was reading Compassion International’s blog earlier today, and the writer explains that many of the people at Compassion believe that extreme poverty can be eliminated during our lifetimes. It’s a big dream, and it requires big prayers.

I don’t know how God will answer those prayers. And I’m not sure if I’ve got the courage to ask for anything that big. But I’m praying for the courage to start praying big prayers.

Will you pray them with me? Pray that God will use our ministry—that lives will be transformed, that societies will be renewed, and that hope will overflow. The need is big, but our God is much, much bigger.