For the past ten years, a few times a month, I volunteered at a local medical clinic where recently arrived refugees from all over the globe received their initial health screenings. Most of these individuals and families had been in the United States for only a few days or weeks. Nearly all lived, suffered, and survived in refugee camps far away from their home country or city for an extended period of time, sometimes years, sometimes even decades.
And here they were in yet another country with a very foreign culture, engulfed in a language that makes no sense to them at all, and among people who spoke very very fast to them, even the southerners among us.
I am woefully limited in my language skills. But it is amazing what can be communicated without words.
I was not trained as a nurse or physician, but was able to point to an eye chart, weigh each person, measure their height, all by using hand signals or working with an appointed interpreter, if we were able to access someone who speaks that particular dialect or language.
To measure visual acuity, we used a universal chart which utilizes direction, not familiarity with letters. Standing on a line twenty feet away and covering one eye at a time, the individual merely pointed in the direction of the letter. For line 1, they would point to the right. For each subsequent designated letter, they pointed up, down, right or left. The figures on each line appeared smaller and harder to see.
It was simple enough for a child of four or five years old to master.
But sometimes, this simple task seemed overwhelming. To some individuals, those figures had no meaning at all. They could not understand what they are supposed to do. The letters just looked like black marks on a chart taped to the wall, a very strange and undecipherable foreign language....until someone showed them how to do it.
I have learned to wait. In our American culture, we expect quickness and efficiency. But as in so many areas of our lives, waiting produces an entirely different result. At first, I thought hesitancy meant they didn't get it. But I learned otherwise. Understanding requires time to take hold.
Sometimes they would watch a sibling or parent take the test. Sometimes it just took a few minutes to get a grip.
And then, suddenly when it made sense, I could see it in their faces. There was a glimmer of comprehension, "Oh, that's how to do it." Some started by shyly pointing a finger in the right direction. But my favorites were those who rose to the occasion, dramatically swinging their arms as if conducting an orchestra.
A couple of months ago, an ancient woman in a wheelchair surprised everyone. No one expected her to be able to complete the task. Should we even try? She sat in her wheelchair, facing the chart. There was no indication that she understood the instructions. A few minutes passed. And then, I detected a small movement, subtly moving her index finger to the right, barely perceptible. I gave my hands a little clap to encourage her. I pointed to the next line and the next figure. Again, she sat silently. Her granddaughter was ready to give up and move her back to the waiting area. But then, her tiny wrinkled hand pointed down, so faintly I would have missed it, if I had not been carefully watching her.
We moved slowly, one figure and one line at a time, until she finished at the 20/20 mark. We all applauded then.
I took her by the arm to help her onto the scale. She relaxed in my arms as if we knew each other like old trusted friends. She smiled meekly at me. And my heart went out to this woman who survived so much suffering and lived through turmoil and displacement. She was not much older than me. And yet, she was starting over in this strange new country with her family where she will slowly, so slowly, begin to comprehend with gestures of grace and kindness from strangers.
To some individuals, the things of God have no meaning to them at all. How can we translate grace and forgiveness and steadfast love in ways that others can understand? Is the gospel just incomprehensible marks on a page to them? Slowly, so slowly, hope in Jesus begins to make sense. And God's faithfulness comes into focus.
When we share our faith, it may seem so foreign in this culture that others don't understand. Even to read the Bible, they may reply, "I just don't get it." They may have no idea what it means. But we can show them by how we respond. And we can wait. Not giving up, but letting grow.
Even as God has waited on us.
It is not a lack of interest, but a matter of waiting for the gospel to sink in and suddenly make sense. And sometimes, that takes a long time and a lot of love on our part. Give God the elbow room to manifest Himself. Trust in the slow work of God. He reveals Himself -- and rarely in our timing.
And slowly, so slowly, His grace seeps in. What does the gospel mean? You are loved. In every language.
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