We were finishing talking about 1 Corinthians. It was the end of an eight-month study with a group of men. We were talking about making a difference by expressing love in life-threatening ways. We were talking about the Ebola outbreak in western Africa.
Ebola is a scary disease. No known cure. Spreads crazy fast (every person infected likely means four more people being infected.) Causes death in 60-90% of cases.
We were talking about the role of God’s people in running hospitals, providing treatment, praying. People like Kent Brantly, a doctor from Texas treating patients in Liberia. He’s just been diagnosed with Ebola symptoms. Someone said, “If your daughter told you she was going to help, wouldn’t you try to talk her out if it?”
“No way,” I said as I began to tear up. “If she had a way to help and she told me she sensed God calling her to go, I wouldn’t argue. It would hurt like hell, but she’d be doing something that mattered.”
I was surprised by my passion.
A couple days later, I was thinking about that conversation: “So what am I doing right now?” A hypothetical commitment is nice, but it does nothing to help the people in a small hospital in Sierra Leone that a doctor friend of mine loves.
So I started thinking about what I could do now.
- I could give my friend money to send on to Sierra Leone for the protective gear necessary for caregivers.
- I could finish a couple of writing projects that would generate some revenue to help fund that care.
- I could ask God to give courage and words to Pastor T, working in that village, exposed to those people.
- I could write a post telling you about the challenge.
Or I could say, “how sad” and click on.