I believe in the communion of saints

   Last year I began attending a Lutheran church. I quickly fell in love with the liturgy, particularly the creeds. To stand there, with a hundred or so other people and declare that we all believe in “God, the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and earth and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord…” was and is a precious part of worship for me. To know that I am declaring out loud things believed for thousands of years is staggering. There’s a phrase towards the end of the Apostle’s Creed where we declare that we believe in the communion of saints. These last few weeks I have lived that as never before.

  Two weeks ago I sent an email to people asking for prayer and help with a situation regarding a little girl I met here. Her name is Lori and she’s six years old. Her left leg was broken in the earthquake and has healed correctly. I asked for prayer for Lori and prayers for the situation and for wisdom and discernment for me as I sought a way to help her. At the end of my email I mentioned that if anyone had any medical contacts they could put me in touch with, I would appreciate it. Honestly, I was not expecting much of a response to that part. Friends, it was incredible the reaction I got. People were emailing others on my behalf all over two countries seeking to put me touch with orthopedic surgeons in America for advice and for places I might seek treatment for her in Haiti.

  Then, last Sunday we had a little girl named Betsaida over to the house. She’s five and had been suffering from severe stomach pains for days. According to her family she kept everyone in the house up all night with her crying. I gave her some medicine Sunday and held her for the afternoon. She alternated between dozing in my arms and crying from the pain in her stomach.  She must have been having cramping pains because I could feel her little body just clench in waves as she hurt. I was really worried about her on a number of levels and talked it over with Ed. She was not feverish and by the end of the afternoon had calmed some. We sent her home and agreed we would go check on her the next day. Ed had taken a few pictures of her, which he put on facebook, telling the story and asking for prayer, and I sent out a personal message asking for prayer. Again, the response was so beautiful. People all over America were praying for her and spreading the word, following the story as it developed over the week.

 The next day we were eating lunch at a local hotel and met a Catholic medical team working in the area. They did not have an orthopedic doctor with them, but their ER doctor agreed to look at Lori’s leg and give us an opinion about if and how to proceed. It was the medical team’s last day by the time we were able to get Lori there and they were obviously tired. When the doctor looked at her leg he said an x-ray would help him provide a better opinion. X-rays are an option at the local hospital (at least sometimes), so we got ready to head over there. Before we left the doctor gave us money to pay for the x-ray. In the scheme of things I doubt this team even knew how much they blessed us that day, but to see their willingness to inconvenience themselves on this child’s behalf was such a blessing.

 All of that to say, I’m not sure, but I think this is part of what it means to say I believe in the communion of saints. I think this is what the body if Christ is supposed to look like. Lori and Betsaida matter. They are people made in the image of God, precious in His sight and it is right that we would be concerned, be praying, and be working to help them. Too often kids like this and hurts like these get overlooked. Thanks to so many of you, and the grace of God, in these last few weeks, they weren’t. So, for those of you who knew about these things and helped me with information and prayer, thank you so much. It matters. Friends, will you continue to pray with me for Lori and for Betsaida, that even more than medical care they would see how much they matter to our Lord, how precious they are in His sight? As always, and though it feels so insufficient, thank-you.