Carrying for Christ

When the day started I knew it was going to be a special day. I didn’t know exactly where the intuition originated but I know now it wasn’t without reason. To give a little back story from the day leading up to today, Thursday, November 10th. It was just last weekend that I was treated for malaria, three days of being dizzy and dazed while sleeping away from home in the clinic. The day following my recovery I found my way to the basketball court to shoot some hoops with the other Christians because it’s the only source of entertainment that doesn’t involve gambling here in the mountains. While playing basketball I jammed my big toe rendering me useless and sending back to my lesson planning where I should’ve been anyways. Lesson learned the hard way. That night I returned home just in time to see my roommate off. Which is another story in and of itself possibly coming later entitle, ‘Nomadic Missionary: the Chip Story’ another time though.
Now, fast-forwarding through a week of a busy school schedule we come to this afternoon, when I found myself with extra-free-time, three words that don’t often fit together here in Kementiyan. In order to stay busy, I decided to hike home to do some needed improvements to my house and certainly get to spend some quality time with all the kids in the village. I can always count on their smiling faces to greet me, as they had done the first time I returned home from being away at the clinic over the weekend. I didn’t realize how much I had grown to love their unique smiles, and I even had grown fond of their individual little eye balls that can be seen peering through the cracks in my bamboo walls at night, at first a little startling but now a enjoyable occurrence.
I had returned home in effort to build a small porch to entertain my nightly visitors with their curious eyes and loving smiles. While nearing the end of my project, I got help cleaning up from one of the boys. (I discovered, later, that today was his birthday, Nubim, 7 years old.) I had looked up the hill to see his father, Dyun, had return home, so making use of my limited but becoming function Palawan vocabulary, I suggested that we go see what his dad was doing.
After walking up the hill, we exchanged greetings. I inquired about what he was doing and since it’s always funny to hear a Kanu, short for Amerikanu, attempt but mispronounced every word, he obliged and explained that he was making the base for the basket his wife I assumed had weaved. While talking, I just happened to see two of the male church members coming through the village, carrying a sick patient in a “bakid”. The their main way of transporting heavy things whether it be rice from their farm, produce to sell at the market, or in this case a 50 kilo man are in these baskets. A “bakid” is a weaved -basket about 3ft tall, 2 ft wide, and 1ft deep. Instead of carrying it on your shoulders like a traditional backpack, you wear a single strap across your forehead putting the brunt of the weight on your neck. As you can imagine very uncomfortable and hard to keep your balance at first, but after my experience today I wouldn’t want to carry 110 lbs any other way.
The man they were carrying had been an in-patient at the clinic the last couple of days with Black Water Fever, Typhoid, and possibly malaria, he had reached the limit of the capabilities of our little jungle clinic. Especially on a day like today, when the doctor on staff here had spent 6 hours of the day placing over 100 stitches in a man’s hand who had nearly blown it off while making a home-made grenade used for hunting pig but that is another story for another time.
One of the two men approached us while we were talking telling us what they we doing. They were carry this patient of ours out of the mountains to the lowlands so he could get treatment at the hospital. Then they extended the invitation for me to join them. Since I never like to turn down adventure and because they only had one good flashlight and their other light was a cellphone, I quickly accepted and ran to my house. I had lost a really good LED maglight, during my malaria experience, which wasn’t even mine and in my rush I quickly prayed for help to find it. It just so happened to be in the first place I looked. Praise God for being the best lost and found in the universe. I palm a boiled potato and scurried out of the house.
Coming back up the hill, I saw two of my high school students waiting for me. Apparently, they had heard word that people needed help carrying the sick patient out of the mountains and being two Christian young men they sprung into action. I join them and we quickly went up the hill to catch up with the pair that had left already with our sick friend.
Once we caught up with them, I started to see their system. One man would carry, followed by everyone else. He would carry as far as he could and then turn the basket over to the next man and return home while the other continued. This way the patient is always moving and being quickly transported to urgent medical care. It was moving down the line one man after the other, each one giving it their all and then passing it on to the next guy. It resembled a highly efficient relay race, each man doing his legs and passing the baton , but instead of racing against an opponent we were racing against time and night fall.
When we had left my village, there were experienced strong backs and necks who had navigated this trail countless times and with them one American with his flashlight. Now don’t get me wrong I feel I am as fit and strong as the best of them but when it comes to carrying 50 kilos of human being on my forehead I felt I was lacking. So I did my part and helping hold the basket when it transferred from one person to the next, never holding the full load but being as helpful as I could.
We kept pressing on, making great time. By this time, our group had shrank down to four of us plus one guy who had joined us later down the trail and everyone but me had taken a turn carrying the basket. Then one of them suggested that I give a try. So when the next man tired out, I took my turn. This wasn’t my first time carrying a basket but certainly the first time with so much weight and human weight at that. So saying a pray I lifted him up and wow, was this man heavy and awkward. Just try to imagine hiking on a muddy, dark, steep, trail and by steep I mean when hiking up these trails you are more or less kissing the dirt in front of you, with all together to much weight on your forehead. But to my surprise I wasn’t doing as bad as I thought I would, yes I was going a little slower than everyone else but I was doing it.
But pride cometh before the fall and having slippery, mud covered, foam sandals doesn’t make that fall any better. I was coming down a rather steep section overlooking a dark drop off I slipped and lost my balance. Only by the grace of God and the protection of His angels, I was able to my balance and stay on the trail but not before jostling the patient around. Alarmed, as they very well should’ve been, they quickly suggested that my turn be cut short and out of fear for the well being of our sick friend I willingly obliged to hand over the basket. But instead of turning to return home I decided to go on, being more than half way I didn’t want to stop now.
As we continued to hike discouragement set in on my mind. Feelings and thoughts of being incapable and thoughts of what they must think of the American who tried to carry but almost made the patient worse off than he already was. Those thoughts all coming before I overheard one of them jokingly compare me to former student missionary and saying that I just wasn’t skilled like him. All of these things put me into a bubble of selfishness and loathing. But after some prayer and the Holy Spirit reminding me of the task at hand: we were still hiking in this dangerous situation where a man’s life was at stake. After that reminder and recalling that in true service to God there is no room for self, my mind was won back to positive thinking and continued intersession for our sick friend.
We kept hiking now getting closer to our destination. We could the see the lights below and ocean beyond under the full moon lit night sky. Being collectively tired we stopped for our first real break but not because of our fatigue only but party because of the bumpy ride had put our friend in a great deal of pain. Sitting there the cool night air condescend into steam as it rolled off our panting tired bodies, the thought smacked me right between the eyes that we needed to pray. At this point there weren’t only Christians with us, but there was also the wife of the man and the passer-by we recruited to help. With the thought to pray, came the impression that up to this point we were taking credit for what was going on and resting on our own strength would have given cause for prideful gratification if success was achieved. I asked one of the high school students to pray. Timelk prayer and although I didn’t understand all he said, he poured out his heart to God, asking for strength to press on. Even now I am touched by the thought of the humility but boldness in his voice, while he spoke with the “Empe dut langit”-“ God of heaven.”
Being near our destination and seeming to have regained strength we continued down the mountain. Down the winding and steep trails we continued. After a little while we stopped again, but this time because the group was fatigued. Between deep breaths and to my surprise I was asked to carry our friend. When first asked I was apprehensive, thinking what if I didn’t regain my balance this time or what if I’m not really strong enough to do this, but those thought were cut short as I asked myself “who was carrying the basket? And who had just asked for guidance, protection, and strength?” We didn’t just ask any god but we to the ever hearing God of the Universe who has current personal stake in the lives of every person on the trail because of our Savior Jesus Christ and the blood shed for us to be reconciled to Him. We supplicated to the God who had already given His only begotten Son, what more wouldn’t he give to us to finish the task at hand.
So with the confidence of having heaven on my side I lifted our friend and started to hike. The next few steps though difficult and scary seemed but seconds, like a blip of the trail and before I knew it we had arrived. Now after saying our good-byes and sending the patient on to the hospital we turn back to the trail leading home. We began to hike and curiously I paid close attention to what I had missed before while carrying the basket. But after hiking for a little ways and then further and still further, I realized after retracing the steps I had carried the basket for more than a kilometer. What had seemed like a blip on the trail was actually muddy, slippery, and steep, just as steep as before, but when I was hiking on it just moments earlier it seemed like flat, dry ground.
Reading this through the second time through, I am certain now that God carried that man down the mountain and let me just walk under His faithful hands. I know that heavenly angels though unseen guided my every step. I am convinced that those angels are still with that man in the hospital guiding the doctor’s hand to bring that man back to full help. All because our God “who is a very present help in time of trouble” inspired, heard, and answered the prayers of His children. Going forward now, no matter if I’m walking with or without a heavy load; carrying someone or being carried myself; I can have confidence, I’m never without my Best Friend: the one who promised to be with me always even till the end of the age is faithful to fulfill His promises.