In between all this business, I've been thinking about the real reasons I'm here. In talking with the other YASCers in our Facebook group, I've realized that we're all starting to have some questions about the impact we're having in our placements. Many of the YASCers have found themselves quite busy in their jobs, as I have. And all of us are starting to make relationships with the communities we're serving in, which we believe is one of the most important parts of YASC. But some of us still have some doubts about our time abroad. For example, last Friday, I got a call from the care centre at 5 AM. The night shift carers were in the middle of a medical emergency and they needed my help. I won't elaborate about the details of the situation, but let me just say that it was serious enough that I jumped out of bed, put on my glasses, and ran next door in my pajamas. While we were waiting for the ambulance to come for this very sick patient, I realized for the first time exactly what I'm up against in terms of my job here. In the United States, I would have had a doctor asleep in a call room 10 feet away from me. I'd be the one waking him up, and as soon as he jumped out of bed and ran down the hall, I would be relieved of making medical decisions. That's not the case here. You'll be glad to know, as I was, that this particular situation turned out OK. But it made me wonder whether I really have enough experience to do my job here.
I think doubt is a normal part of life for everyone. I also think it's fair to expect that, when you choose to leave your country for a year of mission service, you'll pack some doubts along with your suitcase. But a missionary is supposed to have faith in God, sort of by definition. So I find myself wondering, how does doubt fit into this picture?
Shortly before I left for South Africa, I remember hearing someone talk about faith. I believe it was in a sermon at St. John's, and although I can't remember exactly when this happened or the exact wording of what was said, the overall message was this: Most people think that doubt is the opposite of faith, but that's wrong. The opposite of faith is certainty.
There are lots of things in this world that are certain. The sun will rise in the morning. If I forget to put gas in my car, then eventually the engine will die. If you put a cupcake in front of me and come back 10 minutes later, the cupcake will be gone. These things are facts. They don't require faith. I suppose you could argue that God causes the sun to rise, and believing that takes faith, or that I eat the cupcake because I have faith that it will be good, but you'd be missing my point. Lots of people don't believe in God, and the sun still rises for them. Also I'd like to point out that there is no such thing as a bad cupcake. So these things don't really require faith after all. In fact, when you are certain of something, there's no room for you to have faith in it. That's why certainty is the opposite of faith.
In order for you to have faith that something will happen, there HAS to be at least a bit of doubt involved. A good example is the story of how I arrived in South Africa. A few days before my flight over here, I emailed Donna, my contact a the HOPE Africa office. I asked her what I should do when I arrived in Cape Town. Would my car be waiting at the airport? If so, how would I find it and where should I drive to? Would someone meet me? How do I find them? Do they know what I look like? What if I miss a connection? Who should I call to tell them that I'm late? The reply Donna gave me was (unnervingly) simple: Someone will be there to meet you. I decided to look at this reply as a chance to practice having some faith in the universe. Donna said someone would be there, so there someone shall be. Sure enough, when I got off the plane in Cape Town, I cleared customs, collected my suitcase, and walked out to the waiting area of Cape Town International. There stood Jenny and Donna, waiting patiently for me, and they recognized me at first sight. There was no certainty about that situation, and I suppose it's OK now to admit that I had a few doubts. After all, I had no idea how big or crowded the Cape Town airport would be, or whether my flight would be on time, or anything like that. But I had faith, and lo and behold, all was well.
Faith isn't the absence of doubt. They can coexist. I think of it like light and darkness. Light isn't the absence of darkness, darkness is the absence of light. When you turn on a light, the darkness doesn't GO anywhere. It's just not noticeable anymore because the light is on.
We YASCers may come to find that the answer to the question 'Why am I here?' becomes clear by the end of our year of service. It would be great to be able to say I made some huge change at the care centre, or I saved the lives of 20 patients, or my presence in the local Anglican parish strengthened the church and brought in more people. It also occurred to me this week that maybe this year isn't about what I'm doing for Hawston, but what Hawston is doing for me. Maybe this year is strengthening my marriage by reminding me how much I love my husband. Maybe it's all about me learning how to be a nurse in a resource-poor environment. Maybe thirty years from now, something will happen to me and I'll think back to my time here and understand how it changed me into the person I will be. Or maybe none of those things will matter, and that's OK too. I may never be able to point to a single reason why I'm here. And I'm OK with that because I have faith that Hawston is where I'm supposed to be right now.
We have a choice every day to worry about our doubts, or to accept them as a part of our faith and move on.
Finally, just because I hate to write a post without a picture when I have so many great ones to share, please enjoy yet another Hawston sunset photo taken from my back yard:
What a great post! Thanks for sharing!
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