Day 29: Serve and Be Served

My mule lost his footing and fell off a twenty-five foot cliff, plummeting to the jungle floor below. Falling in two different directions, I landed on a bolder. Multiple injuries threw me into shock. Near the Guatemalan border in Oaxaca, Mexico, our medical team had no cell or satellite phones to call for help. Our hopes for serving these people were dashed. The majority of our team turned back, facing another four-hour trek to seek help.

That February day, my husband Jim and young son Billy bore the brunt of the horror of my grave situation. Earlier that morning we hiked from one village to the next so Jim could provide dental treatment to villagers deep in the tropical forest. Instead he sat with me for hours, unable to control the bleeding from my head. My back sustained the impact of the fall as my skin color bled shades of black and purple. Praying without ceasing, Jim wondered how I would survive such severe internal injuries.

A tiny Christian community responded in full to our team’s summons for help. Arriving at our location later that afternoon, they cut balsa wood and vines with their machetes to construct a stretcher. Carrying me over river crossings and mountain switchbacks to their village located four hours away, the 95-degree heat was oppressive. When my stretcher bowed, they lowered me to the ground to tighten the vines. During those moments, they prayed in their native tongue for their own physical strength and pleaded with Jesus to sustain me during the long journey ahead.

Our team had stayed in their village the previous night, enjoying their hospitality. Yet the poverty made my heart ache. There was no electricity and no running water. Hauling water from the Usila River was an endless chore. Every minute was in preparation for the next. They provided the best of everything for our team. A rare commodity, generous portions of rice and chicken left no doubt that some would be hungry for days to come. Christians in this village lived under constant persecution from the chief, who apparently felt threatened by their newfound joy in Jesus Christ – yet the believers remained undeterred in their faith.

One month later, at home, bedridden and facing a bleak prognosis, I questioned why. Why did I go with Jim? My plan was to help, and I ended up being the one in need. My life was now forever changed, and I accomplished nothing. My identity as wife and mom ceased. I felt stripped of my dignity. Priding myself on being self-sufficient, the kindness of family, friends and strangers made me uncomfortable, for I couldn’t take care of my most personal needs. Had I not heard the Holy Spirit’s prompting me to join Jim? Were my motives all wrong? I questioned myself, not God. The pain was excruciating – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Narcotics didn’t work. At my lowest, a letter arrived from the missionary in Mexico. Her words provided a soothing balm and a sweet clarity over my brokenness.

“You must understand how God has used you in the most powerful way. Karen, when these people receive medical care from Jim and other American doctors, they’re left feeling grateful, but embarrassed; unable to ‘give back’ in any substantial way. We returned last week to the village and were able to tell them of your survival. Their tears of gratitude gave me the certainty that God used you in a mightier way than you could have ever dreamed possible. Jesus took your obedience in leaving the comforts of home and instead of having you serve these people, He allowed a village to serve you. His ways are not our ways. During the coming months, while dependant on others and you feel like Peter pleading, ‘No, Jesus, you shall never wash my feet.’ Remember that your tragic accident allowed these faithful few to tell the next generation about the day they rescued and saved the life of a woman whose husband cared for them.

God used you to restore dignity to Indians in a little village in Oaxaca, Mexico.”

John 13:5 After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples feet, drying them with a towel that was wrapped around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

~Karen Rhea