Ouch, That Hurts!

On a clear, sunny morning she walked into the living room, sat down in her favorite chair, and put her head in her hands. “How can I go through this?” she moaned to herself. “Why should anyone be expected to bear such a burden?”

Anger, hurt, disappointment, bitterness, discouragement, and also, that ugly little word, doubt — they were all there happening to her. Things like this only happened to other people, never to her. What went wrong? Why was she being singled out to bear such a burden?

Opening her Bible to look for something to give her strength, she chanced on a piece of paper on which she had made notes on verses of Scripture years before. She noticed that one note referred to Psalm 13, but it had no relationship to the other verses on the paper. How did it get there? She began to read the psalm.

How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? Forever?

How long wilt thou hide thy face from me?

How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily?

How long shall mine enemy be exalted over me?

“Hmmm, that’s just where I am,” she mused. “Here I am in the back side of the desert, and God has forgotten even who I am. Talk about hiding His face from me! My enemy is making mincemeat of me, and all I get is a blank wall.”

Consider and hear me, O Lord my God:

Lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death;

Lest mine enemy say, I have prevailed against him;

And those that trouble me rejoice when I am moved.

Her heart reached out to God as she continued reading, trying to touch God; Could it be that He was trying to deliver her a message through the thick veil of pain?

But I have trusted in thy mercy;

my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation

I will sing unto the Lord because He hath dealt bountifully with me.

 Slowly, the tears of healing began to fall. Was her trial over? No. Was the pain erased? No. Did everything miraculously come up roses? No. However, she began to feel the hidden inner strength that comes through trusting and believing that she is in God’s hand and He is working His will through her.

“Yes, Jesus, I have trusted in Your mercy many times, and I’m trusting in Your mercy again today. My heart shall rejoice in your salvation, the salvation from myself! I will sing unto the Lord because You have dealt bountifully with me and showed me today that though I can be hurt, abused, scorned, distrusted, passed over, misused, lied upon, and cheated, that I have the ability to minimize any hurt that comes my way. Others can inflict upon me all manner of things, but I choose how it will affect me and my walk with You. I have the final say in how deeply I’m offended. Yes, Lord, I choose to trust in Your mercy and Your grace, and I’ll not let anything destroy me. I’m going through, not by might, not by power, not by politics, not by popularity, not by pretending, not by bitterness, not by anger, not by revenge, not by self-pity, but by the power of Your Spirit.”

Glancing again at the notes, she recognized Ephesians 6:14.

Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; and your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; Above all, taking the shield of faith, wither with ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God: Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints.

 She arose from her chair and walked back into faith, truth, and life, knowing that the One who had endured all sorrows, grief, and pain was with her.

Many years later, after hearing of her struggle, someone said to her, “It must have been a terrible time! How did you stand it?”

“Yes,” she answered, “I guess it could have destroyed me, but I wouldn’t let it. I chose to allow the Spirit of God to comfort me.”

Who was she? Just an ordinary woman trying to make it through and do her part. She may have suffered the loss of a child. Perhaps she had lost her best friend. Perhaps she was going through the breakup of her marriage. Perhaps she learned someone she trusted had betrayed her. Perhaps she was just going through a time of searching for her real self. Yes, she was like you and me, or maybe she was you or me.

A Tanzanian Bus Ride

Author:  Carolyn P. Simoneaux, Ed.D. 

Early morning in Moshi, Tanzania is the most beautiful time of the day. The sun shines on Mount Kilimanjaro, and the glacier is turned into a strawberry ice cream cone. The air is cool as the wind blows off the glacier, down the mountainside, and into the African town. The birds sing the air smells fresh and sweet, and a cup of coffee on the veranda with the mountain in view makes the rest of the long equatorial summer day bearable. And so it was, on a summer morning as Tim and I set out for a trip from Moshi to Arusha, a distance of about 50 miles. We left our compound early, around 7:00 A.M., and started the three-mile walk down into town and to the bus station.

The walk took about an hour, and we arrived at the bus station hot and thirsty. The cool morning air had turned quickly into mid-morning heat. The station was crowded with people coming and going. The buses revved their engines, and the smell of diesel fumes hung heavy in the air. The buses’ conductors hung out the doors of the buses shouting their destination.

“Arusha, Arusha, tunaondoka, sasa! Haraka, haraka! (Arusha, we are leaving now. Hurry!),” the conductor of the Arusha bus shouted.

We quickly boarded the bus, paid our fare, and found a seat. I looked around at the relatively empty bus and thought, “This is wonderful. The bus is less than half-full.” Surely, this would be an easy trip, not as terrible as we had expected.

The bus driver raced his engine. Vroom, vroom. The conductor shouted out the door. Diesel fumes filled the bus. Suddenly, all was quiet. The bus driver had turned off the engine and, with the conductor, got off the bus and walked over to a nearby kiosk. There, they met a group of men and begin to have an exuberant conversation under the tree. To our amazement, they squatted down beneath the tree. It appeared as though they would be there for a while.

Thirty minutes or so passed before the driver and conductor returned. Meanwhile, Tim and I kept our seats in the hot bus rather than seek a cooler spot outside. A few more passengers had boarded the bus, and we didn’t want to lose our seats.

The driver started the engine, the conductor shouted, and it looked like we were really going to go this time. But, oh no! The driver turned off the engine, and he and the conductor returned to their friends under the tree. As before, they stayed, talking with their friends, for about thirty minutes before returning to the bus.

Soon, the bus was about three-quarters full. Engine revving, conductor shouting, unbelievably, the bus finally started moving. Out the station we went, down the street, and around the corner. All the while, the conductor leaned out the bus shouting, “Hurry, hurry, we going to Arusha!” I was quite pleased because we were on our way and the bus had lots of room; we weren’t as crowded as I had feared we would be.

Around the corner we went, around another corner, and then, to my utter dismay, we pulled back into the station. Not so surprising now, the driver and conductor got off the bus and joined their friends under the tree! Were we ever going to leave?

Finally, after another false start, circling the block trying to recruit more passengers, the bus was completely full, and we actually got started. Still optimistic, I was thankful the bus was only comfortably full, and we had only had to wait two hours.

As we neared the edge of town, the bus slowed down and stopped. The conductor jumped off the bus, and we watched as he grabbed the parcels that were lying on the ground by a group of people. As he began to throw the parcels on the roof of the bus, I got the general idea. These people were getting on the bus. Oh no!!! My most dreaded scenario was happening.

Again and again, for the fifty miles to Arusha, the bus stopped to pick up passengers, parcels, chickens, and even a goat. I was so very glad for my window!

With chickens cackling, goats bleating, and people talking at the top of their lungs to be heard, we made our overloaded way to Arusha. The bus groaned its way up hills and around curves, sometimes on its own side and sometimes blindly passing other vehicles.

Finally, we arrived in Arusha. I made my shaky way off the bus, thankful to still be alive and in one piece. As we walked out of the bus station, more than five hours after leaving home that morning, we decided that, in the future, we would hire a private taxi, and forgo the amazing experience of a Tanzanian bus ride.

Climbing the Mountain

Author:  Carolyn P. Simoneaux, Ed.D.

Mt. Kilimanjaro is the tallest mountain in Africa and its snow-covered peak can be seen from many miles away on a clear day. Moshi, where we lived in Tanzania, is on the slope of this beautiful mountain. Its lovely view is what we often saw first thing in the morning, and last thing at might.

Every year, students from the mission boarding school in East Africa, where our daughters attended junior high and high school, climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. In 1988, the group of students had dinner at our house before starting their rigorous hike up the mountain. We asked the students how many of them they thought would make it.  Their answer was an emphatic, "EVERYONE". They had decided among themselves that they would help one another and no one would be left behind. 

Five days later, when they returned for dinner again, they were sunburned and footsore.  When asked how many made it to the top, the answer was again, an emphatic, "EVERYONE".  Several of the girls had to be helped by their classmates, but everyone made it by pulling together. This is one of the best examples of teamwork and community spirit I have ever seen.

We, as Spirit Filled Christians, are not an island to ourselves.  We need one another.  Together, we can make it to the top of our mountain.  Together, we can help one another to make it. 

Nimrod and his followers (Genesis 10, 11) taught us what unity of purpose could do.  God said, of them, "If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other." (Genesis 11: 6-7 NIV).  Their purpose was to make themselves a great nation and become like God.  Our purpose of unity should be to work together for the Kingdom and to help one another.  Paul put it this way in Colossians 3:13-14, “And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”

This would be a good day to reach out and help a brother or a sister climb a little higher.