“What do I have to say to them?” This question consumed my thinking for weeks as I was preparing to speak to women in Goma, DR Congo - women who have been displaced from their homes, many have been brutally raped, and nearly all have suffered the loss of loved ones. As I sipped my warm coffee in my cozy home, it was hard to think of what to say, to relate to women who live in a state of constant trauma, pain, and fear as civil war continues year after year.
This wouldn’t be my first trip to the DRC. My husband and I lived there for a year while he taught in the American school and I tried (and failed) to begin a ministry with women. I had seen the wounded, tired, confused, and desperate faces of hurting people… and I wanted to run away. I struggled greatly that year with the question of God’s sovereignty and goodness. Honestly, I wasn’t looking forward to going back to a refugee camp to counsel and encourage women who had experienced trauma. Are you kidding, Lord? Impossible! But years ago I told the Lord “anytime, anywhere” and I sensed this was one of those times He was saying go.
It makes sense here. I’ve seen the beauty of healing in the lives of many hurting women as they’ve faced their pain, worked through forgiveness, joined support groups, and received godly counsel. But what if none of that was available? Some of these camps had 30,000 hungry people in them! I couldn’t see our American way working in that setting. It seemed pointless to try.
One morning as I was praying and trying to write down some thoughts, I sensed the Lord speaking to my heart with these simple instructions from His Word:
“Go and give them a drink of living water. Go and give them the bread of life. Go and give out the seed of My Kingdom, and I will do the rest.”
In my mind I argued with the Lord, “They’re hungry, Lord! They’re homeless! They’re deeply wounded! They need help! How can I just go and tritely talk about You?”
"Trite? Who said anything about trite? Gently, boldly, humbly, give them the truth of My Word. I am enough. You teach that - do you believe it?”
Stinging a bit, I hesitantly replied, “Yes, I know, but…who am I to speak to them? One look at me and they will tune me out and I would, too, if I were them.”
“This isn’t about you. You are simply a donkey I love whom I have allowed to take my message. You can’t relate to them, but I can. Give them Me. Are you ashamed of Me?”
That was a turning point for me. Instead of worrying about “what to say,” I started praying for the wounded sheep and began asking the Good Shepherd to guide me and give me His words prepared specifically for them. I had to choose to believe in Jesus and trust that His living water would flow through me (Jn. 7:37-38).
As I looked into the hollow faces of 300 women crammed onto wobbly wooden benches or sitting on the hard dirt floor, I was overwhelmed at the incredible privilege handed to me by the wounded Savior. I saw women from many different African tribes, women who have suffered in ways that I can’t begin to imagine, women whose lives probably won’t change in the near future, if ever in their lifetime. My heart was overtaken by the love of Christ. All of a sudden I wanted to gather them in my arms and weep with them. I knew for the first time how Jesus felt as He wept over Jerusalem, longing for them to know His love. I wanted to disappear and let Jesus speak. So that is what I prayed.
Surprisingly (even to me), I began with Psalm 33:18-22:“
But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.We wait in hope for the Lord; He is our help and our shield.In Him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in His holy name. May your unfailing love be with us, Lord, even as we put our hope in You.”
I then went on to explain that this only makes sense because in God there is no death, no hunger, and no thirst. So what can it mean, other than God has a different perspective on what living means?
No notes, no outline, no agenda. I simply asked God to reveal Himself as He wanted. I started in the garden, where the first war was waged, and ended at the resurrection, where the final war was won. I talked about heaven and the rewards that await these blessed women who have suffered like Jesus, and He like them. I have never felt so close to Him.
Their smiles comforted and broke my heart. In that moment, standing in the darkest place I had ever been, I knew Jesus is enough and I was not ashamed to tell them. In a place that makes no sense, this message made perfect sense. His love covers a multitude of sin. I have no idea if the women sitting there learned anything that day, but I know I did.
So what do we do with the suffering of the world? We don’t turn away and avoid the pain; we enter into it. Whether it’s our loved ones facing crisis or people thousands of miles away living in horrendous conditions, the truth is the same. The cross is enough. Jesus is sufficient and His love never fails. We pray, we wait, and we unashamedly speak the truth in love when the Holy Spirit gives us an open door.
~ By Grace Cabalka
