Last Updated on Wednesday, 21 July 2010 12:05 Written by Kate Cline Wednesday, 21 July 2010 11:33

July 3, 2010   by Kate Cline

Silas is the 3 year old son of Pastor John and Mama Abigail, who are the parents of the Gidan Bege (House of Hope) in Kaduna, home to twenty-two ex-orphans, street boys, and other undesired children.

He’d been complaining of a headache all day, and was moving around like a dying slug, almost mechanically, staring dully around and everyone. Pastor John explained that he was running a high fever.

Then, he collapsed on the floor.

(I am telling this story because it’s the grace of God that the boy is still alive. I think it also testifies to the character of Pastor John and his wife).

Pastor came running up, followed by Uncle Friday, assistant manager. He scooped up his son off the floor, shaking him, pinching his cheeks. We ran and got water, splashed it on him. It was very hot out. Mama stood behind her husband, calm, praying out loud. I can still see her vividly, standing there. Not crying, not terrified, but calm, and praying outloud in Hausa/English.

After five long minutes, Silas was conscious again. He woke, defecating all over his father, urine dripping down his legs to the floor. His eyes were open, but rolled back in his head. And he wasn’t responding to anyone.

Pastor John set him down, stripped off his soiled shirt, and grabbed him, running out to the motorcycle, and they sped off towards the local hospital.

Uncle Friday and I cleaned the floor, and then told the others, and sat, and waited. And waited.

 Abishalom and Mary (Silas’ sisters) were sent towards dusk to take some food, and I came along.  I’ve been to the mission hospital in Jos, but this is something else. A tiny courtyard with six rooms on either side; the door is closed when the piece of cloth is hanging down. I walked in with Abishalom and Mary, Silas’ older sisters. He lay on a bed in one of the rooms, hooked up to an IV. There were four other women in the room, lying on floor mats, but Pastor John sat by his son, his usually jovial face creased at the forehead.

“What did they say?” I asked.

“We don’t know.” He shrugged. “God only knows. They are asking too many Niaras for the lab tests. So, just a high fever, we think.”

So, I sat with them a while and talked to Silas when we woke up. We prayed over him together. But my being white was causing a ruckus and all kinds of people were hobbling into the room to look at me, so I left. Pastor John and Abigail spent the night in that awful room with their baby.

It was not the first time since coming here that I’ve wished I had either medical training or millions of dollars.

Later I was talking on the bench outside with Uncle Friday and Eunice. And I cried over my lack of faith.  It’s easy to feel pretty insufficient and useless because I don’t have great wealth or great skills, but then I’m forgetting that what I have as a believer to offer people is infinitely better. I have Jesus.

Then, Uncle Friday read Acts 3:1-10, where Peter and John, looking at the lame man, realize he needs more than physical healing.

“I have no silver or gold, but what I do have, I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk.”

I have very little to give the family, but I did have the ability to encourage them, to sit with them, to grieve as they grieved, to point them to trust in God, as they waited for their son to wake up and respond. And that shouldn’t be underestimated.

Jesus says that if our faith is even as small as a mustard seed, we can move a mountain. I’m praying for that mustard seed of faith for me.

Uncle Friday left us then to take his shift at the hospital and to pray with Pastor John over the boy.

The doctors did tests; the boy had typhoid.

Silas returned the next night, all traces of the typhoid gone. As I chased him around the house, listening to him shrieking and giggling like a normal little boy, I marveled at his sudden recovery. God is indeed good.

(Typhoid and hepatitis are common at our care centers, because although they have wells, they don’t have the funding to dig deep wells that have pure, drinkable water.).