Courage to stand up and step forward
By Ben Kennett
About a dozen years ago, My uncle asked me to join him on a trip to Nicaragua. The trip was a medical mission and a coalition of volunteers had been working for almost a year to plan it. “What could I really offer to the mission?” I asked over the squawk box, both of us knowing We had no medical expertise. “Just your hands and feet,” my uncle replied in a simple and inviting tone. My uncle was a leader in the Army and so I knew there was more to it, but best if I just let it be and trust him. So that settled it - I was all in…
I took the red eye and flew in from the UK (where we were living at the time) to our rendezvous point at Managua airport, and after a few introductions the caravans of old rickety trucks filled with supplies and equipment and local “A-Foreward” teams from partner organizations met the cohort that had flown over and we packed it in for the 7 hour journey into the jungle region where we would set up the medical base. The area was in a valley of dense vegetation etched between mountainous terrain, and the base camp was a small compound that had been built many years ago by local and foreign volunteers that served as a school, a community center, and a place of Refuge for people who needed it. There was no electricity and no running water (except from off the rooftops during the frequent rain showers).
One of the first steps we took upon arriving was to set up a perimeter mesh and fence and some checkpoints that would allow people into the inner area where the makeshift medical treatment areas were set up and where the warehousing of all the equipment and supplies was stationed. “Why in the world do we need to fence this compound in,” I asked, displaying my ignorance. “Just wait,” one of the local volunteers replied with a weathered smile for the new gringo in the jungle. Sure enough, by 07:00 the next morning a few hundred people had already descended from the mountains and surrounding villages onto the area. People came from everywhere, with some traveling more than 50 klicks to get themselves or their loved ones medical attention. Over the next few weeks we treated more than a thousand people. It seemed that the Word still traveled fast through traditional networks!
Over the next few weeks, I distributed vitamins and medication to those prescribed, held babies and played soccer with kids as their parents underwent minor surgery. I helped cook meals for the volunteers, handed out clothes and other essentials to local families, and organized transport for people back to their village. I also accompanied a small cadre of nurse practitioners and interpreters that went to surrounding villages and taught simple hygiene practices to the community. But the most interesting job I was assigned was just beyond the perimeter fence of the compound in a small field where a large banquet tent had been erected.
The tent could seat about 80 folks, had a makeshift stage, and a generator hummed in the background to run the lights, a microphone, and a few speakers. It was there that some of the local pastors we had partnered with delivered a service several times a day. My job was simple: to usher people in and out of the tent, and then just notice and pray - that was it! So I found my “Aces and Eights” perch position in the front right corner of the tent beside the stage but out of direct view where I could take in as much as possible and started scanning…
The sermons were in Spanish and went on continuously throughout the night with the same sermon delivered each time with little variation as far as I could tell. At a certain point in each sermon, the pastor would ask everyone to close their eyes and then raise their hand if they had felt their heart stir as a result of the incredible story that he had just finished telling, and that was my cue to start praying.
A memory now etched vividly into my mind was a late evening service where 3 men stood just at the edge of the tented area in the far back left corner. They clearly knew each other, and it appeared that they knew several sitting inside the tent perimeter. I could see those in the tent were cautious, judging by their body language, about how they interacted with and in view of these 3 men. At this point in the night, you could barely see the faces of those who were standing right at the perimeter of the tent as the lights were strung up in a way that illuminated the under-tent area the most, but the light seemingly included them and I could see that these 3 men had a hardened and worn look to them (which was likely betrothed by a world they had grown up too quickly in).
As the pastor got to the point of asking for the closing of eyes and raising of hands, slowly and reluctantly one of the three men raised his hand slightly - not above his head, just briefly to his side. If you weren’t looking for it, you would have easily missed it.
The next request from the pastor was for everyone to then open their eyes, and then for those who had raised their hands to stand up if sitting in the tent or to take a step forward if standing around the perimeter. I watched intently as the 3 men’s eyes darted from one another, to those in the tent, to those beside them again and again. I also noticed that the small cluster of people in the tent who seemed to be with these 3 men kept their eyes glued on them, as if, looking for a signal that it was ok to stand up or step forward. It seemed like the longest 30 seconds of uncomfortable silence I have ever witnessed. In the end, clearly influenced non verbally by these 3 hardened men, no one in that clustered area of the tent stood up or took a step forward, and the man who had gingerly raised his hand when no one was looking did not move a muscle…
That next morning, I relayed the story to a few of the folks who were part of the mission team, and I indicated that I was encouraged to see, even if it was a brief fleeting moment, that a seed had been planted in this man. However, one of the women quickly interjected and rebuked me. “That doesn’t make sense,” she said passionately, “If God had really touched his heart, he would have been brave enough to step forward, and that would have encouraged the others around him to stand up.” She then went on to share how easy she felt it was to do things in the dark when no one could see but how hard it is to do things in the light when everyone could notice it and seeming critique and even condemn you. “But it’s how God uses us for his will,” and then she quoted a passage in the book of Matthew.
You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.
Initially defensive but then quickly reflective, I just stated “Well, maybe you are right,” closing the conversation… I shifted my focus to the work at hand, but what I had witnessed that prior evening and the words she said rattled in the back of my mind for the remainder of the trip, and I was unsettled by it. What was I to make of this Addice-inspired Sliver of a Memory in the broader context of my time on mission? And so I prayed to God for wisdom about what this situation was supposed to mean.
Later, on the last night in Managua, the group of volunteers got together for an evening of fellowship. Stories were told, pictures were shared, hugs all around, and promises were made to keep in touch. Finally the leaders of the mission asked if anyone would like to speak about what had been put on their heart as a result of this incredible experience.
Now I’m an introvert by nature, and my relationship with God to that point in my life had been very personal and private. I had never spoken to a large group before about my faith and how the Holy Spirit, which dwells peacefully and restlessly within me, made my feel or moved me - simply because it was too intimate for me! I felt it made me too vulnerable, and not sure if I could control my emotions… Yet I felt called to step forward and share what a blessing it had been to serve with just my hands and feet and as just a worker without any particular skill or key responsibility within the joint special operations command.
I fumbled some of the words, got emotional a few times, there were a few tears shed… But I did it, and my uncle gave me a hug afterward.
Later, during my quiet time, was one of the first times I felt God speak softly but clearly to me. In essence, He said, “Don’t worry about those 3 young men. I’ve got them, and I’ve got all the people sitting around them. Their knees will bow and their tongues will confess, and it will be in my time and for my purpose. That episode you witnessed was actually for you, and so was that rebuke, because I need you to let your light shine more and allow more people to see and feel what your relationship with Me means to you. I’m proud of you for coming on this mission and being vulnerable in front of all these strangers.”
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All these years later, I still find myself in situations sometimes when I feel vulnerable being obedient to a thought, sharing my faith in creative ways, or making it clearly known Who, How, What, and Why my identity is rooted in. Yet every time I take a personal risk and step forward into what I believe I am being called to do - no matter how small the ask or the task - I can feel the Holy Spirit within me stir and connect to His overwhelming love for me as it flows through every fiber of my being.
May you have the courage to stand up and step forward.