Now, I'm in a very well-appointed office with a myriad of resources at my fingertips. Tests, specialist referrals, calling on incredibly knowledgeable colleagues with questions - I have every advantage. In Sudan, I struggled to make even a simple diagnosis of intestinal parasites. Here if I want I can order a battery of tests for all kinds of intestinal infections or an ultrasound or a CT or an MRI.
God has brought me on a great journey over the past year - stripping me of everything I thought I wanted or needed - but where I end up is the same exact place I was in Sudan: I desperately need God's assistance every moment of every day. The same desperation that I felt when I looked at a little malnourished child applies when I look at an overnourished patient whose blood sugars are out of control. Only God can make the difference in this patient's life.
I saw a patient today who was very frustrated with the medical profession. I looked at her and saw in her the same longing for wholeness that I saw in my patients in Sudan - that I see all around the world. The creation is groaning, wanting redemption to be made complete. Even the patient most resistant to God knows that something is wrong in our world today. We know what wholeness is oftentimes because we feel the lack of it and the longing for it. Oh, that I might point the way for each patient to the Only One Who can bring that wholeness they long for!!
One of the biggest things I discovered about myself while in the Sudan is that when I swing on the pendulum from fear to pride and back again, the mooring of that pendulum is self. Fear and pride have this in common: they exist because I think things depend on me, or because I misunderstand the goodness and greatness of God -or both!
I believe that God brought me to the Didinga Hills of Southern Sudan because He needed to do something drastic to get my attention.
Whether I succeed or fail, His voice remains constant, whispering the same thing: "I love you." I say the right thing - "I love you." I make a ridiculous fool of myself - "I love you." I do what's right - "I love you." I do what's wrong - "I love you." The message of the Cross to me is the measure of how much He was willing to give for my redemption. He valued my - our - redemption so much that He gave His very Son, His very Self. The sacrament of communion has become to me a way of accepting His valuation of me, of accepting His great sacrifice that forever proved the worth He placed on my restoration. What extravagant, unearned, amazing love! What peace there is in resting on His estimation of my worth, rather than working to be worthy or trying to beg for His approval!
It is my prayer that you too might learn this dual lesson: that you have nothing to offer, but that He loves you lavishly anyway. May He deal with you as graciously and ruthlessly as you can bear, and in the end, may you learn the joy of hearing the Father's voice constantly whispering - in success or failure - "I love you."
Deborah Moss is currently serving at Esperanza and enjoys care packages with pop corn and tea.
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