Last week, on our typical Thursday morning schedule, our team participated in a feeding. If you don’t know what that is, it is when we drive to a nearby squatter village, feed the people ricey-soup stuff, and walk around yelling “Feeding!"
Between this year and last, I have
probably participated in fifty or more feedings, and it seems to always
be the same. I might approach a couple of people with smiles, small
talk, the very little Tagalog I know, and call it a day. Thursday, God
had other plans.
As Faith, Toria, and I were walking among the trash and
disease, we came upon an elderly lady too cheerful to explain. We
greeted her, and she happily joined in on the “Taglish" small talk we
had to offer. She knew better English than was expected, and the
conversation exceeded my expectations for the “normal feeding." As Faith
and I were nearing the end of the conversation and mere seconds from
walking away, Toria asked her a simple question that changed everything.
She simply asked, “Do you have any children?" The woman told us about
her son and how he was bed-ridden from disease, unable to work, and
barely able to even eat. We asked if she would take us to her house and
allow us to pray over her son, and she, with much joy, lead us the way
to her small shack of a house where her son lay frail and weak on a hard
sleeping-place with only one fan. We talked with both for a little
while, found out they were in fact believers, and then prayed over him
to be healed. When I opened my eyes, I found the mom with a red,
tear-streaked face, sobbing in desperation and so much gratitude that we
simply took the time to talk with her, visit her home, and pray over
her sickly son.
They both knew the Gospel. They were both believers. There was no need to “use words." The point is that we were obedient.