The Stolen Soul

The time was 12:45pm. We were nearing the very hottest part of the day. With temperatures soaring above 100 and humidity thick enough to slice, I was glad we were nearing the end of the line of patients waiting outside the clinic. Needless to say when Tenning told me about a sick girl in the neighboring village Grimol, I was less than excited about taking the hike. We wrapped up clinic, grabbed a bite to eat and were on our way to Grimol by 2:00pm. We arrived at the compound with the said sick woman and were immediately offered chairs to sit in and swarmed with children all vying for attention. After 5-10 minutes of polite conversation, we were shown into the room of the sick woman. There in a dark corner lay a 20 year old girl shaking, dripping with sweat, too weak to even sit up or roll over on her own. One look told me that she was very sick. Upon questioning the mother and other people in the compound, I was surprised to see what little they knew about this girl’s symptoms. They could only roughly guess that she had been sick for five days. Some said she had vomited, others claimed she had not. Some said she was eating, her mother said she had not eaten in three days. Immediately I suspected malaria and was surprised when this test along with typhoid fever were both negative. I went down several different medical routes and gave the medication along with thorough instructions on what she should eat, drink and to send for me if anything changed.

The next day I went back to check on her and she was no better. Still thinking she has malaria, I decided to treat for it in spite of the negative test. Not only was she just as sick as before but her mother, the one woman who had been caring for her, had left for several days to go to Bissau. The young woman had not eaten or drank anything and her medicine had not been taken. I was shocked and very angry. Why was no one taking care of her? Why had no one fed her? Why was no one giving her anything to drink? Why had no one given her the medicine I left next to her mat? There are at least five other women in this compound. I had talked to these women! I gave them instructions! I told them how important it was to give her clean water and food! Why was everyone ignoring this young woman? I stormed home and quickly cooked food and mixed up several bottles of oral rehydration solution and headed back to Grimol.

Thank God the malaria treatment worked and within one day there was marked improvement. I continued to bring food until she was able to cook for herself. Five days later this young woman and her mother come to the clinic. At this point she was still very weak but is definitely out of the woods. This is when I hear the whole story.

When this young woman first started with high fevers and vomiting, the mother took her to the Jambakus (Witch doctor) The Jambakus looked at her and “consulted the spirits” and then proceeded to tell the mother this: “Your daughter’s soul has been stolen by a sorcerer. She will die in five days. If anyone tries to save her, they will make the sorcerer angry and he could steal their souls as well.” The mother quickly stated, “Now we see that this is not true.” A torrent of emotions hit me at that moment. Anger! How could the Jambakus condemn her to death like that? Grief! How could a mother be in such bondage to darkness that she would leave and let her daughter die? My heart cries when exposed to such evil.

This is not a lack of healthcare problem. This is a lack of Jesus problem.

With all the Christians in the world, how has one not made it to Grimol? Wasn’t that the final command of Jesus?

I was so blessed to be raised in a Christian home. I say from a young age I felt a “call” to missions. I didn’t know if it would be foreign... or stateside… or what it would look like, but I knew I was going to be a missionary. I really couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Looking back, I am not sure if it was a call… or simply a decision to obey what I was taught from the Bible.

If I understood correctly, there really wasn’t any other way to be a Christian. I watched my parents work daily spreading Gods love, counseling, pastoring and introducing people to Jesus. I grew up watching my parents serve Jesus and grow the Church. In my mind being a missionary wasn’t an option. I knew that if I were to take my faith seriously, it meant radical obedience to the Bible, and to the command: go and make disciples.

When Jesus promises us abundant life (John 10:10) or commands us to love our enemies (Matt 5:44) we obey. We believe that these were written for us. In Matt 28:19 Jesus said “Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations”. How can we take this command to “go and make disciples” and turn it into a calling? Why does one need to be “called” into missions? Isn’t this a matter of obedience?

I have exactly one week left in Guinea Bissau. When I look at returning home I cannot escape the question: Why am I so blessed and others not? Why was I able to go to school and get a medical education? Why was I introduced to Jesus as a child? Why did I always have enough food and access to medicine?

God has given me all these wonderful blessings not so I can simply have a good life living the American dream. He has blessed me for his glory. He has blessed me richly so that I may be able to spread his love to the nations. He has blessed me to show mercy and compassion to the sick in Guinea Bissau.

May I never disconnect God’s blessing from God’s purpose.