The refugees were more or less the outsiders in the issues of the community. Yet, there were so many of them. I had only heard about the growing masses of refugees, but I never knew the scale was this large.
The camps were an amalgamation of garbage. Wood piled here and there, while long banners kept the wind away. Yet, their hospitality was glowing. The hosts invited us with pleasure into their homes. Though the day was a classic summer day, they treated us with scalding hot tea, as they had not much else to offer.
Being a doctor and having not much else to talk about, I told them I would perform medical examinations if they wanted. Unfortunately, I had not brought any examination kits, let alone any medicine.
After a short history check, I had to let the family know that there really was not much I could do to help the patient, but the words did not quite leave my mouth. In that moment, a pastor opened her mouth to say that we will pray for them.
Soon she had spoken of the Gospel, and that Jesus truly loved them.
As a Christian, the command of Jesus to spread the Gospel always lay heavy in my heart, but it was always something I could not easily do. I had been too sensitive of the opinion of others, whether or not talking about God would bother them. I also felt very hypocritical, as I did not feel like I was living a very "Christian" life.
Yet, all there was to it was to simply say that "Jesus loves you."
The children did not care what I had done in my life at home. The refugees did not care who I was or what I do for a living. They all simply wanted to love and be loved. They were just grateful to be with us, that somebody cared enough to visit.
It was as if God was letting me know that I was righteous enough to be loved, perfectly built to love as well. He simply wanted to be with me.
I am not to say that the mission trip was a blast. It is taking a toll on me physically. Spiritually, however, I never felt so free.
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