| Better Than Barker |
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| Written by Tim Brown | |
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Mercy Ng’ang’a will never travel to California. But to spend five minutes with this woman is to encounter a joy that transcends circumstance.
“This is a harvesting place,” she tells me.You see, Mercy is a chaplain at Kijabe Hospital, about an hour’s drive north of Nairobi, Kenya. The hospital isn’t a happy place; after walking the corridors, my heart is still aching after meeting a young man sitting in the children’s wing—a burn victim whose entire face has melted into a twisted scar. Upstairs a mother cradles the hydrocephalic head of her son, trying in vain to stop the tears.
Mercy herself hasn’t lived a happy life. Her stepfather used to beat her and treat her like a slave. As an adult, she lost her husband to Leukemia and now she’s raising five children alone.
So what’s with the smile?
Mercy has led over 70 patients to
“This is a harvesting place,” she tells me. She says that in the last two months she has prayed the sinner’s prayer alongside 70 of the hospital’s sick and dying. And it’s her pain, she says, that helps her relate to them.
Unbelievable, I think— not about the pain, but about the 70 saints. But as we sit and discuss the work being done at Kijabe, my skepticism fades.
Kijabe Hospital, like any North American hospital, has doctors, nurses, and support staff. These medical professionals are the first point of contact for patients, many of whom can’t afford medical fees elsewhere. Between 15 and 20 per cent of the patients are Somali; though Muslim, several tell me this Christian hospital is well-run and affordable.
As hurting people walk through the hospital doors, Mercy sees past the somatic.
“I found the secret is just to love them,” she says. “Don’t look at their shortcomings, just love them. There is power in Jesus.”
Last night Mercy saw a young boy and his sister come to Christ. In the morning she was thrilled to see him reading the Bible she had given him.
Along with success, Mercy has faced “difficulty.” Some women have been abused in other hospitals, so it takes them a while to trust her. Other times she is the problem. Since refugees are often dirty and rude, she says, it’s sometimes hard to love them.
Today I stumbled upon her real secret. Nevertheless, Mercy says two Somalis have turned to Christ in the past two months.
“It’s amazing to see someone come to the Lord,” she says. “Sometimes you cry with them, sometimes you sing with them, sometimes you jump!”
“Every time I lead another to Christ I say ‘Hallelujah!’ it is time to come home! I have done my work,” she says. Mercy’s hope is unearthly, and one day she’ll smile even brighter than today.
“Mercy Ng’ang’a,” a voice will call, “Come on… UP!”¤
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