Peru Reflections

To Him be the Power, by Rachel Langley

Originally appeared in The Cry: An Advocacy Journal of WMF, vol. 10, no. 4 (Winter 2005)

Control. It feels safe to be “in control.” I like to be in control, to feel as though the world makes sense, to see the future as predictable, organized and safe. Yet, as I learn to trust God, I find that He asks me to give up my sense of control for absolute dependence on Him. This posture of powerlessness scares me. At times, I want to turn and run from a life where I am robbed of the assurance of safety, of a vulnerable life where my heart is allowed to be fragile and easily torn. And so my pride tries to maintain a sense of control, even as God draws me out of my comfortable places and into a life marked by of self-surrender, brokenness and humility. Can I follow Him to such places? Why would He lead me there? Will I let Him lead?

Last January, my dear friend Tatiana was found lifeless, floating in a river in central Lima. She was rushed to a nearby hospital where doctors fought to restart her heart. Their efforts were successful, and Tatiana was placed on a ventilator in an intensive care unit. The next week we expectantly sat expectantly outside the door of the ICU while Tatiana fought for her life. We waited for any word from the doctor and for the 15 minutes a day we could spend at her side. The rest of the time we waited and prayed that our precious friend would be healed, that she would survive to be a mother to her son. We waited as if somehow, by our presence, we could show God just how much we wanted Tatiana to remain with us.

We bought expensive ICU supplies and medicines daily, making sure Tatiana received the best care possible. We e-mailed and called our friends and family, begging for their prayers. Surely God would hear and answer the prayers of so many! I am a registered nurse, so I read and re-read my medical books to understand what was happening to her and to make sure there wasn’t just one more thing we should do for Tatiana.

But all our efforts to gain control of the situation were for nothing. As we waited outside her hospital room, Tatiana’s heart gradually, slowly simply stopped beating.

When I found out she had died, I ran away, literally ran away to be alone. I sat down and sobbed and pounded the ground beside me. I screamed aloud at the top of my lungs, “WHY?!” Why, God? Didn’t you hear? Didn’t you know how much I loved her? Wasn’t it obvious it was not her time? Didn’t it matter that so many people were praying? I cried out to Him until there were no more words left for me to say. And then I just sat, alone, anguished, in sorrow. Why couldn’t I have stopped it?

The next few days were filled with prepara-tions and arrangements for Tatiana’s wake and burial. I busied myself and pushed down my sorrows by trying to make everything perfect. I longed to at least have some control over this, our final goodbye. But even in this, there was no sense or order. Though now a princess in heaven, the beloved daughter of the King, Tatiana was still seen as a street kid on earth. Her body was treated disrespectfully at the hospital and at the morgue.

When we arrived with Tatiana’s body at her wake, the environment was oppressive, and the street kids, who have no mechanisms to deal with their own grief, were out of control. The kids pressed in, all pushing to get the first look at her body in the casket. I was fighting to shield her body from their eyes until her hair and her clothes were arranged respectfully. I felt screams of anger rise up again within me, and soon after this I left her wake, unable to publicly bear my broken heart. In truth, I was unable to bear the feeling of being out of control.

One of the last things Tatiana communicated was something she weakly scribbled on a scrap of paper. She didn’t ask for help or mercy. She didn’t ask why or say she was in pain. She simply wrote, “Thank you for everything.” In her last moments of life, what she thought to say was “thank you.” Thank you for friendship, for love. Thank you for the time I had; thank you for life. Thank you for telling me about my true Father; thank you for standing by my side. Thank you.

As I sat in church the next Sunday, God reminded me of this, her last words to us all. Would I thank Him, praise Him, worship Him in all circumstances, even these I couldn’t understand?

There is too much death, pain and disappointment in the world, in Lima, in my heart. I know so many children who suffer injustice and abandonment, I come face to face with it every day. Will I thank Him and praise Him even then? Can I confront my own inability to make those things right, and say that I am thankful? Can I embrace my life and all that it would bring and say “thank you” for it all? God could have healed Tatiana at any moment. Can I praise Him when the answers to my prayers are “no”? At first I remained stubborn and unwilling to respond to such a call. My pride was the glue holding me to the seat. As I sat, I realized that God was asking something of me, but He left the choice up to me. Would I stay seated, unwilling but in control? Or would I stand and humble myself before Him and His perfect will; perfect, but not at all easy? Then I chose. I stood. I bowed my head; I lifted my arms and wept, humbly surrendering control to Him,

“Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise You as long as I live, and in Your name I will lift up my hands” (Ps. 63: 3-4).

As I stood, arms outstretched, I felt His presence like I never have in my life. He poured out on me a measure of His love and mercy that my human body could not contain. In those moments, He gifted me with a profound knowledge of His faithfulness and His goodness.

Though I forfeit control, I choose to humble myself before God, whose name is Goodness and Love. I will trust Him in the darkness, and will thank Him and glorify His name in all things.

“God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble. Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you. And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To Him be the power for ever and ever. Amen” (1 Pet. 5:5-7, 10-11).

Rachel, Brian and Isabel live in Lima, Peru, where they serve as Field Directors.

Please read Tatiana's memorial on the Remember page.