Allow me to tell you about an experience I had while in Jamaica. I wish that you could see what I saw, feel what I felt, and smell what I smelled. I will do my best to describe to you this experience. Come with me now and stand in the hot sunlight, narrow and shade your eyes, and look at the two long block buildings painted in worn pastel colors. Step inside and allow your eyes to adjust to the dim light. Don't breath too deep the odor is offensive, make sure your hands are empty, you will need to shew the flys away. Now brace yourself as you look at all the people lying in the small beds lined up against both walls of the narrow room. They are sick, weak and many are not mentally alert. I want to look away, fix my eyes on the floor, the ceiling or the door. Really I just want to run outside, but instead I watched as the sound of a single guitar began filling the air with music. As the voices of the visitors began to sing praises to God the people in the beds who has at first appeared to be just this side of death, came to life. They clapped their twisted and gnarled hands, some sat up and sang along. One woman even began to dance around.
Now let's muster up all that is good within us and go speak to the shrivelled up old man, lying in the bed, next to the screen door that is hanging about half open. Say hello and he will responded with a smile and introduce himself. Then he will tell you just how blessed he is that the Lord has given him one more day to live. He will tell you about what a good life he has had and how good God has been to him. He will then tell you about what he has heard as he lies there listening to the "BBC" on his small transistor radio. He says that he has heard about the financial problems in your country. He is concerned about the war in Iraq. He knows more about the Presidential candidates than I do and is concerned about the upcoming election. He then says, "I am praying for your country." There is nothing to say. All I can do is express my thanks, wipe my eyes and walk away.
Now let's muster up all that is good within us and go speak to the shrivelled up old man, lying in the bed, next to the screen door that is hanging about half open. Say hello and he will responded with a smile and introduce himself. Then he will tell you just how blessed he is that the Lord has given him one more day to live. He will tell you about what a good life he has had and how good God has been to him. He will then tell you about what he has heard as he lies there listening to the "BBC" on his small transistor radio. He says that he has heard about the financial problems in your country. He is concerned about the war in Iraq. He knows more about the Presidential candidates than I do and is concerned about the upcoming election. He then says, "I am praying for your country." There is nothing to say. All I can do is express my thanks, wipe my eyes and walk away.
