While serving with Operation Mobilization in India in 1967,
tuberculosis forced me into a sanitarium for several months. I did not yet
speak the language, but tried to give Christian literature written in local
language to the patients, doctors and nurses. Everyone refused!
I sensed many weren't happy about a rich American (to them
all Americans are rich) being in a free, government-run sanitarium. (They
didn't know I was just as broke as they were!)
The first few nights I woke around 2:00 a.m. coughing. One
morning during my TB coughing spell, I noticed an older, sicker
patient across the aisle trying to get out of bed. He would sit up on the edge
of the bed and try to stand, but would fall back into bed being too weak to stand. I didn't
understand what he was trying to do. He finally fell back into bed, exhausted.
I heard him crying softly.
The next morning I realized that the man had been trying to
get up and walk to the bathroom! The stench in the ward was awful.
Other patients yelled insults at the man. Angry nurses moved
him roughly from side to side as they cleaned up the mess. One nurse even
slapped him. The old man curled into a ball and wept.
The next night I again woke up coughing. I noticed the man
across the aisle sitting up and again trying to stand. Like the night before, he fell back
whimpering. I don't like bad smells, and I didn't want to become involved, but
I got out of bed and went over to him. When I touched his shoulder, his eyes
opened wide with fear. I smiled, put my arms under him, and picked him up.
He was very light, due to old age and advanced TB. I carried
him to the washroom, which was just a small filthy room with a hole in the
floor. I stood behind him with my arms under his armpits as he took care of
himself. After he finished, I picked him up and carried him back to his bed. As
I laid him down, he kissed me on the cheek, smiled, and said something I
couldn't understand.
The next morning another patient woke me and handed me a
steaming cup of tea. He motioned with his hands that he wanted a tract.
As the sun rose, other patients approached and indicated
they also wanted the booklets I had tried to distribute before. Throughout the
day nurses, interns and doctors also asked for literature.
Weeks later an evangelist who spoke the language visited me,
and as he talked to others in the sanitarium he discovered that several had put
their trust in Christ as Savior as a result of reading the literature!
What did it take to reach these people with the Gospel? It
wasn't health, the ability to speak their language, or a persuasive talk. I
simply took a trip to the bathroom.
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