I remember the first time I met someone living with AIDS. I would find out later that I already knew many people living with AIDS, but this was the first person I met who actually admitted to having AIDS. And she was dying. It was awful.
I recently returned from living in Ekwendeni, Malawi, for 10 months. I am studying international development at the University of Toronto. As part of this program, I worked in northern Malawi, through The Presbyterian Church in Canada. I worked at a hospital, mainly with projects in the primary health care department that are supported by Presbyterian World Service and Development. I spent most of my time with an agriculture and nutrition project and two AIDS projects, but also saw much of the other work that went on at the hospital.
On this particular day, I had been in Malawi for about a month. I was visiting home-based care patients with the AIDS program coordinator so that I could become better oriented. Little did I know what I was getting myself into. This young woman — younger than me — was lying in the middle of the floor in her mud hut, her frail frame wheezing under a pile of blankets. She couldn't say anything but just lay there gasping as we visited. One of the volunteers who had come with us gave some aspirin and gloves to the woman's caregivers. We had a little prayer, and then we left. She died half an hour later.
I was shocked. I can't even describe for you what I was thinking and feeling. I returned to my house that evening and had to phone my parents in Canada because I was so distraught.
It's just not fair. On so many levels, it's just not fair. The more time I spent in Malawi, it didn't get any easier to deal with AIDS. It's not something you can get used to. The issue is overwhelming and it often seems as if there is no hope… that we will never win.
I remember reading an article in Maclean's last year — one of those spotlights on ‘up and coming' Canadians. One of the people being featured, because of his work with refugees, was James Milner. I had met James a few times and was interested to read about his work. The last paragraph of the article really struck me. As he commented on the influence his faith had had in helping him to choose his life's work, he said that this work was "a form of worship" for him. As with James, this work is a form of worship for me. There are so many different ways to worship, many of them not found in pews on Sunday morning. My work and my studies are ways for me to praise… to let God know that I am thankful for all he has given me and that I care about his world and his people.
Eric Liddel, the subject of Chariots of Fire, said, "When I run, I feel His pleasure." When I helped out at Prevention of Mother-to-Child clinics, I felt God's pleasure. When I sang songs with children at community-based orphan care centres, I felt God's pleasure. When I prayed with that dying woman, I felt God's pleasure. When I do my readings and write papers for my university courses, I struggle, but I feel God's pleasure. When I file reports at PWS&D, I feel God's pleasure.
When we live for God — however that manifests itself — we feel God's pleasure.
