Living in the Land of the Shadow of Death

One of my favorite parts about flying is sleeping. Whether it’s a quick domestic trip, or a 14-hour international flight, I love a good airplane nap. The sound of the cold air hissing from the vents automatically causes my eyelids to droop. It’s like Pavlov’s dog salivating after hearing a bell. It just happens.

So when I settled into my aisle seat after checking in our team of 21, I was ready to succumb to the drowsiness incurred by the surroundings of the airplane cabin. My teammate sitting next to me (in the middle seat) was engrossed in a Sudoku book. All conditions were perfect. But just as I was about to doze off, I noticed the college-aged girl sitting in my row by the window, reading from a notebook. At our team’s last training session, we had discussed the importance of developing lives of intentionality. In that session, it was I who mentioned something to the effect of being aware of opportunities to be Light and share Truth, even in the modes of transportation that would take us to our destination.

So I shook off the impending stupor, and asked the girl what she was studying. I assumed it would be a short conversation but I at least wanted to make the attempt to be congenial. She responded, “Oh I’m not studying. I’m reading my friend’s journal.” That was interesting. And within the next minute, I was wide awake. Essy was 22 and had been friends with the writer of the journal since they were both in 3^rd grade. The journal was given to her by his mother at his funeral earlier that week. Essy had been on the phone with him when he was killed in a car wreck.

That took a minute to process. We were sitting next to a girl shrouded in darkness. I was reminded of another past training session I had done with our team. Every person has a story they are waiting to tell to a person who is willing to ask questions and listen. And so that’s what we did.

Essy talked about her pain, asked rhetorical questions about why things like that have to happen, and repeated over and over the final words of her friend. I asked her what she did when she had pain like that, and my teammate and I were able to share our hope in the Father. She proceeded to mention that while she was in town for the funeral, she had also happened to catch her boyfriend of two years with another girl in the mall. (In a city of 7 major malls and 5 million people, that could NOT have been a coincidence.)

Quickly, she switched the subject and wanted to know if I was married. My answer of being engaged set her into a frenzy of questions, and she wanted to know every single detail starting with how Paul had come to teach at my school. I explained to her how a dear colleague had to leave mid-year after being diagnosed with cancer and how Paul had come to fill in for the remainder of that year.  She paused for a moment and then referred back to a comment I had made earlier, saying, “It really is important for us to have open hands, to be willing to release and receive whatever it is that God wants to give to us. You just never know what plan He has in mind.” I was moved by her desire to listen.

We talked a little more about the blessing of waiting for a man who will be faithful. She took a deep breath and mumbled that maybe it would be best for her to break up with her current boyfriend, even though he had promised her he would never cheat again. She slumped back into her seat, and I sat back in mine, closing my eyes and feeling her pain.

Suddenly, Essy leaned forward with new energy and said, “Jennie, will you tell me a story?” It’s a question that I had only heard one other time in all the years of living in Indonesia. It was an open door to share all kinds of stories from life and from the Word. For years, I have told my students about the man who first asked me that question. I have challenged them to always be ready to answer. And now here it was again. “Will you tell me a story?”

My mind numbed at the vastness of the question, and I asked her to give me a topic. She said, “Something that will make me smile and forget my pain.” I took a deep breath and asked the Father to give me the right one. At that moment, a toddler started screaming at the top of her lungs. I prayed for focus… and then I began talking. I told her of a time when I was young, and Dad and I had gotten stuck in a sand pit at dusk after a fishing trip. We had to walk a long ways in the dark, crossing water, barbed wire fences and long stretches of dark prairie until we reached a farmhouse and could call for help. At one point in the journey, I remember coming up to the crest of a hill and seeing a valley lit up by fireflies. It is a memory that has never faded.

The other part of that memory was that I wasn’t afraid. I knew that Dad knew the land like the back of his hand. Even though I couldn’t see a thing, I was with Dad. And that made it fine. At that moment in the story, I realized why I was telling it. Essy was walking in the dark. And she needed to trust in One who would walk beside her faithfully.

It’s hard to know what Essy’s smile meant exactly. The plane was descending and the final landing calls seemed unusually loud and distracting. However, we managed to pray for her, and she eagerly took my number with a promise to call soon. (And at that moment, the child quit screaming.)

The following 10 days on the islands were full of stories too… reuniting with a poor family who I have visited many times over the years… hearing about strange spirit encounters and bizarre child sacrifices… watching the burial of a man on an island of 400. And I also went back to the home of Razmah, a middle-aged woman who had a stroke 5 years ago and is paralyzed on one side of her body. (You can read more about her in my blog post from 2 years ago https://jen4him.wordpress.com/2011/04/04/touched/)  When Ibu Razmah recognized me, tears came to her eyes and she said, “I want to die.” I sat with her again and listened to her story and about all the experimental drugs she had tried since the last time I had seen her. And we prayed again for healing. And again, He chose to refrain.

But despite the many stories from the trip, my mind still wanders back to Essy, a “random” acquaintance along our path before the trip even began. It was a reminder to shine always. And I was blessed to be just one of a team of students and staff who carried Light into the darkness. (2 Cor 4:6-7)

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.
— Isaiah 9:2

~ by jen4him on April 2, 2013.