Love was the physician

In a remote area of Africa, God's help was immediate—"a very present help in trouble."

It Was Just About A Year Ago. I was crouched down in the middle of a plain in Tanzania asking God to help me. I was in trouble. For a couple of days I'd been increasingly unwell, and on a morning drive with our safari guide, it became obvious to him that I was not doing well. After asking a few questions about my condition, he named a kind of dehydration he was sure I was experiencing. He then mixed up a two-liter bottle of a green concoction and told me to drink it within an hour.

I thanked him for his kindness, but I put the bottle in the seat pocket of the jeep. I then took a little walk so I could be alone to get the help I needed through prayer. And although it sure looked like I needed physical relief, what I really longed for was the deep, restorative assurance of God's presence with me. I've always found that when I really open up to feeling God's closeness and presence, a feeling of calm comes that restores health.

While I was praying, the guide told my husband that he had medicines to give me back at camp. When my husband explained that I probably wouldn't want the remedies he was offering because I rely on prayer for healing, the guide became adamant. He said I would never get better without these remedies, and that, in fact, I would continue to get worse. He would then have to evacuate me, at great expense and inconvenience to everyone else. He'd had years of experience, he told us, and this was exactly how it would play out if we didn't follow his course of action.

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My long road of spiritual discovery
August 18, 2003

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