It Could Be Worse

Growing up in the Jones’ house, we had a saying when someone was complaining about their situation. My son, Patrick, first said it one day when I was sitting on the couch complaining about not having my favorite kind of cookies. Although he was just a young kid, he picked up the sad nature of complaining. He yelled across the room at me (from a safe distance)–”It could be worse. You could be dead!” Ever since then, when someone in our family started complaining about the the lack of something or not getting your way, we all would say, “It could be worse. You could be dead!” But yesterday that saying wasn’t a joke.

Many of you have heard me tell about Emmanuel’s kids. I met him a couple of years ago. He asked for help for his 156 AIDS orphans who were living with him on his farm in Bungoma. I explained that I didn’t have the ability to help him because of our recession. Then he prayed for our recession in the U.S. I had made our recession sound worse than his situation. Well, I repented and started helping. Through the graciousness of a couple of businessmen and some members of The Hills Church of Christ (and a few others from around the country), we started feeding, clothing, and educating them.

When I first went to the farm yesterday, I was overwhelmed. Sitting on the ground waiting for me were not 156 orphans. Now there were 317. Emmanuel’s first words to me were–”We were dead.” He explained if our help hadn’t arrived when it did, they would have been dead. It couldn’t have been worse. The children gathered around me and said “Thank you!” They couldn’t stop. They kept saying “Thank you!” for over five minutes. Emmanuel had been teaching them English, and they spoke incredibly well. He started a school there called Eruli. There is now a thriving church called Hope and Light. And there are smiling faces abounding. They didn’t complain about anything or ask for anything.

But as I looked around, I realized that maybe it could be worse. But it was pretty bad from my vantage point now. They had no water. They had dug a forty feet hole in the ground where they climbed down it in their bare feet to hopefully get some water.  They carry buckets of water daily on their heads for miles. It is never enough, and it is not pure. So many of the children have typhoid because of the lack of clean conditions. Only 180 or the 317 were sponsored. So without some additional help for food, they would run out every single day. And they sleep on the ground. There are not enough staff people to really teach them and take care of them. But they do it none the less. In fact their little school won first place in regional competition in English, science and Swahili. The children are so thankful for this little school that they study by a lantern until 9 p.m. every night. They don’t complain. They just give thanks even though many are sick and most of their parents died from AIDS. Emmanuel never stops smiling and giving thanks. He has eleven children of his own. He told the Lord that he would take care of ten orphans. Then God gave him over 300. Anytime he sees a starving orphan on the street, he cannot pass them by. He takes them and cares for them on his farm.

I gave him some time to tell me his needs. Instead he asked some other people to speak from another place on Mt. Elgon. He said that there situation was much worse. Indeed it was. They had 500 orphans with no food. They were literally dying. They were victims of a tribal war. In the past CRF had a work there, but our workers were killed too. Now it is peaceful, but there are orphans everywhere. Then the tears flowed. They told me that children had witnessed the deaths of their parents. Not only were they killed, but their bodies were chopped up into pieces with machetes directly in front of them. I can’t imagine the horror! Not only were they starving to death, but they were also plagued with nightmares that no one should have.

I realized that it could be worse. I keep finding new kinds of poverty here. When I think it can’t be worse, it gets that way. I don’t know how we will meet all the needs on Emmanuel’s farm. I don’t know how we will help the children on Mt. Elgon. But somehow we will. And I think that we need them more than they need us. I have never seen much worse suffering, but they didn’t complain as much as I did about my cookies. I think we need to find that kind of contentment. Don’t you?