A Drop in the Bucket

 Sometimes our life on the islands seems difficult.  The task seems so great and we are so few.  There are nearly a million islanders.  How many can I possibly know, show love to, encourage, share my life with, share my heart with?  Sometimes it feels like it is a drop in the bucket.  Could it ever really make a difference?

Glimpses of city from bus window

This past week I went to a conference in a city of 25 million people.  A people much like Islanders— friendly, hospitable, but also hard and unyielding.  25 million.  The number itself is staggering.  It’s not the sort of number you can get your head around.  But as we drove from the airport to the conference venue, that number became real to me.

As we raced down the highway, we started to see apartment blocks.  The construction is simple a layer of concrete for the floor with concrete pillars for load bearing.  The walls filled in with red brick.  Layer upon layer upon layer.  They look unfinished and they are.  The place where windows ought to be, only a hole in the brick work.  And yet they are occupied.  Clothes hanging out to dry give some indication, and as a local expat told us—“They may look abandoned, but I can almost guarantee you that every one you see is lived in.”  The apartments are stacked like legos, 6, 10, 12 stories high, and not overly sturdy to my eye.  And they went on and on and on. Mile after mile after mile.  People stacked up on one another in a fashion I’ve never seen.  It felt like we would never see the end of it.  It felt like 25 million people—smooshed, piled, and pressed together in a never ending sea of brick and concrete.

And sometimes our work in the islands feels like a drop in the bucket.

So many buildings, so many people

We were told at the conference, that the reality is that less and less people are coming to places like this, whether it’s the islands, or this giant metropolis.  They feel like there is plenty of work to do right at home.  They are not wrong in that.  But if there are 25 million people—or even 1 million people—living without a hope, a taste, a chance to get a sip of the living water, how can we stay home?  Why don’t our hearts break?  Why don’t we ask ourselves, “Who will go?”

Sometimes it feels like our work is like a drop in the bucket.  But I am told that it is not.  I am told that it is more like a tiny seed, planted in the field that becomes a mighty tree.  I am told that it is like a spoonful of yeast that transforms the entire ball of dough.  How many can I possibly know, show love to, encourage, share my life with, share my heart with?  Not many.  But it is a seed planted.  It is a little bit of yeast in the mix.  But there are still so many places that have no seed, no bit of yeast.  Who will go?

Tom and kids enjoying a meal together on their break

PRAYERS ANSWERED
Our teammate had a good and busy final week on the island— she was feeling better and was able to have time with lots of different islanders. She left well and made it safely to the big island today (her journey will continue tomorrow). We haven’t heard any more reports about cholera on the islands so it would seem that it was successfully contained (praying that remains the case). Tom had a good time at the conference learning and being challenged and reconnecting with old friends and colleagues. Tom was able to spend the weekend with our two older kids (who had their mid-term long weekend break). They had a good time together. Megan was able to facilitate one island sister’s travel to mainland Africa for medical treatment, making connections and providing translation.

PRAYERS REQUESTED
Megan is hoping to finally get the ball rolling towards weekly studies with some island sisters— this has had lots of obstacles. Pray that if this is meant to happen that obstacles would be removed and everyone would be motivated. Our friend who was recently widowed just had a miscarriage.  Please pray for her as she processes this new source of grief. Pray for Tom as he travels back to the islands— his itinerary is long. Pray that he would make all his connections and stay healthy (he’s been battling a cold).  Times are hard for many islanders— pray that intense weather wouldn’t destroy any more crops, that salaries would be paid and that shipments to the islands would arrive to help relieve suffering. Pray for our team as we get used to being a team of three adults.