Yesterday, I had spent the afternoon preparing what and how I would communicate the Gospel to Magar, my tribal mother. My Patpatar language ability is still not at the point where I am comfortable communicating things on deeper levels, but this couldn’t wait. Our partners, Butch and Tammy had gone down to see her that afternoon. She was still very bloated at the time, but could sit up and was actually talking. She had eaten that day and slept the night before. Could it be her health was improving? I finished writing out my lesson plan and lined up a time to be able to share this special message with Magar.
That evening I couldn’t get out of my mind the desire to go see how she was doing. At midnight I put my clothes back on and walked down the muddy trails to her hut. There was a crowd of people in and around the hut. The kerosene lanterns faintly illuminated the dreary setting. There on a narrow plank bed, Magar was being propped up. She could no longer sit up on her own, but had to be propped up to breathe. Her eyes were sealed closed and she couldn’t speak except for a nearly unintelligible word here and there. I held her hand and told her who I was. She acknowledged me. I told her I wanted to tell her a special message. (The crowded hut made the situation tense. I had prayed that I would have a chance to talk to her privately.) She gave a slight nod again.
I raced home and gathered my notes and Bible. Lori and I made our way back to her. When we arrived back at the hut, many of the people had gone outside. Inside, Lori started talking with some of the ladies at one side of the hut and soon Magar sat alone except for her son and daughter holding her up. I began stumbling through my message – God’s message – her message of hope. For forty minutes I struggled and tried to communicate God’s holiness, man’s sinfulness, and God’s plan to bring man to Himself through Christ’s work on the cross. I told Old Testament stories, Christ’s life, and finally man’s responsibility to accept Christ as Savior. At times, as I spoke, she would nod slightly. But then my concentration wavered as she would grimace in pain and moan. When I finished all she could do in response was tilt her chin slightly.
Lori and I left her with her family. As we walked back home at 2:30 in the morning, tears flooded my eyes. I was thankful that I was given the opportunity to share the Gospel, but discouraged in my ability to communicate it. I was thankful that she had acknowledged me and gave signs that she could hear me, but discouraged that I was unable to know if she understood the message. A couple hours later we received word that she had died.
In the last email I asked for prayer for her. So many of you responded and said you were praying. One of those prayer requests was: “Pray also that we will have the chance to clearly explain the Gospel to her before she dies.” Praise God, we were given that chance. I don’t know if she understood before it was too late, but I do know that God gave us a small window of opportunity to share the truth with her. Thank you for your prayers. Keep praying for the Patpatar and our ministry here as we press on to finish language and culture study.
Aaron