Eternal Healing

In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us.

– 2 Corinthians 5:19-20

A medical mission trip is all about providing basic, quality care to the least and the lost. Right? Of course. And the SEAPC Medical Team strives to do so in every country where we serve. Including the most recent outreach in Oaxaca, Mexico.

        We treated infants, ninety-six year olds, and all ages in-between. Each person received prayer as well as a complete exam and needed medications. On previous trips we witnessed amazing physical healings through prayer: the blind received sight; the deaf hearing, the lame walking. We have seen these things. In person.

        In Oaxaca there may have been physical healings. But that drama happened between God and the sick, this time without the team’s eyewitness. This trip—this incredible trip—was all about spiritual healing. Earthly blessings, yes. But eternal, Kingdom blessings abounded.

        Stopped at a roadside stand to buy coconut milk, the knife-wielding coconut lady heard the gospel message and believed. That was not the only “random” incident resulting in souls for the Kingdom that day. Or during our time in Mexico.

        But for me, the men’s prison became the site of miracles. God took my flaws, sins, and shortcomings and used me as an ambassador for Christ, making his appeal by providing the words that were needed to heal two precious souls.

       We were initially permitted to be inside the walls for two hours. It turned into five. Men of various ages came to clinic, dressed in identical tan shirts and pants, a number imprinted on their cotton tops. Most complained of back pain, a few had serious issues related to injuries from fights or chronic illness, one man with yellow eyes had little time left on earth. But none of these situations broke my heart. That came later, when a boy sat across from me.

        His face, smooth and unblemished, testified to his youth. Dark hair hung into huge brown eyes that glanced at me with dull desperation before dropping to the floor. At nineteen years of age he had back pain from the hard work he did day after day weaving hammocks. This activity would continue for thirty more years, as he paid his debt for murder. Yet to me he didn’t look like a crazed felon or a depraved sinner. No, he looked like he could be one of my grandsons.

        After his exam and prescriptions, I really had to move on with the next patient. Time, that valuable commodity, would soon send us out of the prison and there were many waiting to be seen. But need blanketed me and dispersed any concerns about the schedule. The Holy Spirit wanted to speak. I sensed it profoundly as I laid my hand on the boy’s trembling knee.

        I opened my mouth with no plan about what to say.  “If I were your abuela, this is what I would tell you.” Since I don’t speak Spanish, I’m not sure where I got the word for grandmother. With an interpreter at my side, I stared at the young man until his downcast eyes met mine. The Holy Spirit gave me words.

        “You have two roads you can take. It’s your choice. One road leads to death. The other leads to life; it is the way to Jesus. He loves you. You cannot do anything to make him stop loving you. In fact, he loves you so much that he knows how many hairs are on your head. He doesn’t care where you’ve come from, only where you’re going. Even in this prison, he has a purpose and a plan for your life. All that’s required of you is to accept him.”

        I know I said more things, personal things that were mine alone to share but brought about by a God who never stopped loving this boy. My hand stayed on his knee, which had become still. His eyes focused on me, wide and unblinking, bright with unshed tears.

        “Do you understand what I’m saying? I love you as your abuela, because Jesus loved me first. As he loves you.”

        He nodded and went for prayer. I continued to see patients.

        The Prayer Team later told me he spent 45 minutes prone and crying in the alcove the prison uses for church services. And that he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior. The same thing happened with a second boy, twenty years old, when the Holy Spirit prompted me once again to set aside the temporal and go for the eternal.

        I am not an evangelist, a prayer warrior, or a good person. Simply put, I have been blessed to be a blessing. And called to tell two lost boys that there is a Savior, and that they are loved. My shortcomings, my weakness, and my sin were no match for proclaiming the message of God.

        This medical trip, accompanied by the care and treatment we always give, ended up being very different than the norm. We thought we were going to save physical lives. God sent us to present his plan of salvation through Jesus Christ. Although restored physical sight is a miracle, how much more is the miracle of restored spiritual sight? Wholeness for eternity, healing that will last forever—now that’s a mission.

        In the end, we got on the plane and returned home. But God, who loves without borders, will never leave. He will use others after us as he used them before us, all working together for the sake of his Kingdom.

A small piece of my heart will now reside in a Mexican prison. I left it with two boys who will grow old behind bars, but who will never be alone again.

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we can ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

– Ephesians 3:20-21