Imagine you are in a mid-sized city in East Africa. The three paved roads that intersect the highway running through town turn into dust tracks after a few kilometers. The noises and activity of a bustling city seem to never end, and you are one of the few foreigners there.
You are holding an evangelistic meeting series in the city, which is being attended by about a thousand people. Other churches have promised to outpreach you, but they soon run out of things to say, and those attending the dancing sessions begin to come to your meeting instead. The contending preachers end their efforts within a week of beginning, but you wonder how you are going to say all you want to say in three short weeks! The Lord is blessing, and people are beginning to tell you that they want to be baptized and join your church.
You hear about a lady who wants a visit in her home, so you and a friend agree on a time. You have not met the woman yourself, but those helping in the meetings have told you about her, given you her name, and told you where she lives. You travel as far as you can in an over-crowded minibus, then crawl out where the broken, bumpy asphalt road intersects with the rutted dirt path to the section of town where the lady lives. There are no real street names or house numbers, but you ask those you pass where the neighborhood is, and they point you further up the mountain.
You continue your climb up the mountain, past the dwindling number of houses. A man on an orange Honda 90cc motorcycle bounces down the hill past you, waving and greeting you as he passes in a cloud of swirling dust. The road cannot be called a road anymore, and you doubt that anybody who lives up here could afford to own a car. Finally a lady sitting outside of her house points to the house where the lady lives, and you near the end of your dusty journey.
As you approach the little two-room hut covered with rusty roofing sheets, you see the woman sitting on a three-legged stool, enjoying the warm sunshine. You are a bit surprised that she does not rise to greet you, but just then you notice her bicycle and understand. Her “bicycle” is more of a “tri-cycle,” crudely welded together from various bicycle parts and other pieces of iron. Instead of pedals as you are used to on the three-wheeled cycles around town, you see that this is a hand-pedaled cycle, specially designed for people who cannot use their legs. The lady you have come to visit is lame, paralyzed in both of her legs. Her hand-shake tells you firmly that you would not want to try and arm-wrestle this woman! You are still out of breath from the climb up the hill to her house, but she obviously has hand-cranked her way up this hill many times.
The lady wants to talk about serious matters, so she invites you to enter her home. You stoop through the low door and wait for her to follow. As the smoke stings your eyes and the chickens dart around pecking for food on the floor, you start to wonder how this lady is going to move into the house. Will she drag herself along the ground, as you have seen other cripples do? Soon you see that she has a cleaner method of transporting herself. As she sits on one stool, she places another three-legged stool beside her. She lifts herself over to the empty stool, then moves the stool she has just left between her and the house, and repeats the process. She moves quite efficiently, and soon she joins you in the hut.
While you stand and watch her progress, you find yourself wondering why you are here. Of course God’s love is for everybody, but we need strong people in the church! What can this lady add to the body of Christ? What will she contribute, when she is so needy herself? Soon the real conversation starts, so you try to focus on what the lady is saying, and not on your own thoughts.
“I have been attending the meetings you have been holding. I appreciate what you have been saying, and I want to join this church.”
“Yes, I would,” she replies. You begin to talk to her about the various things she has been learning, and find out that she has been studying with church members for several months, but has now finally made the decision. Yet, for some reason, she hesitates.
“Pastor, I am a bit worried. I can’t swim, and I am afraid of water. How can I be baptized?”
For the first time, you realize why this lady has asked you to visit her. Her heart is calling her to follow Jesus in baptism, but her fear is strong. You begin to wonder how she could practically be baptized, since she can obviously not carry her own weight, but you don’t need to wonder long.
“Oh, that will be ok,” your friend speaks out. “We are used to this. We will have other people in the water with the pastor, and they will hold you and make sure that you go under and come right back up again. Don’t worry, we have done this before, and you will be fine.”
Good thing somebody with more experience was with you today! Soon you take your leave of the lady who has now confirmed her decision, and make your way back down to the noisy, bustling city.
On the day of baptism, 160 people line up on the banks of a small river to be baptized. Several thousand others are also there to watch. It is a day of happy singing and hearty “Amen!”s as each person goes into the watery grave and comes up to new life. After a time of watching the others, the paralyzed lady has her opportunity to go into the water. Nervously, she takes the hands of two strong helpers, who lead her into the water to the pastor. Two men hold her firmly, and the pastor places his hands on her and pronounces the blessings. “Because you have decided to follow Jesus, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
Gently the lady is lowered into the water. You can see the terror on her face, but as she comes up again, borne by the strong men holding her, she is no longer afraid. Peace fills her heart, and she tearfully expresses her joy that she has made this decision. She is carried out of the river, where she is greeted by the deaconesses who help her dry off and change her clothes.
Tears fill your eyes as you think of the new life this lady is going to experience. You marvel at her display of faith. Not only has she committed her life to God in her heart, but in a very real sense she has trusted her life into the hands of others. You feel that her faith is far greater than anything you have personally ever known, and you are filled with joy unspeakable.
And as you stand there, thinking of what you have seen today, you realize you are living life to its fullest. You say to yourself, “I am alive! I was created to be here today. I was born to be a missionary in Africa!”
You thank God for the "weak" ones who can teach you so much! And you thank Him that He allowed you to be a part of this beautiful moment.
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