The Multitude

The crowd had been waiting for our arrival. About 500 Togolese waited for us inside. There were another 1000 or so crowded outside, down the road, and around the corner. They have heard of the good ship and the doctors that worked on it, and wanted to see if they were a likely candidate for a free surgery. We stepped out of the vehicles each person knowing specifically what to do, and got in a circle and prayed. We prayed for God’s protection and for His guidance for the screenings that were about to take place.

But I was overwhelmed personally by the multitudes. As a photographer I am permitted to run around and photograph the events but I just can’t help stopping the photography and just emotionally take it all in. The people that come to visit are desperate. They want to feel better. They’re not feeling good, and are gravely in need of miracles. Some miracles we are able to provide and for many others we aren’t.

The people kept coming up to me, and pulling on my sleeve.
“Sister? Auntie? Madame? Mademoiselle? Can you please help me?”
There were others who didn’t know English and knew that my French was limited and they would just point to the pain. Throats, teeth, eyes, crooked feet, cleft lips, blindness, tumors, soars, club feet, and so so so much more. I kept saying ‘I am not a doctor!’ What I really wanted to say is ‘silver and gold have I not, but rise up in Jesus name.’ I was scared. Not of the Togolese but of the folks that have invited me on the ship. I’m there as a photographer wearing that hat but I truly want to minister the delivering power of Christ into the lives of the people. That is something worthy to take home too. Those words haunt me today. In the midst of all the celebrations, I keep hearing…

Silver and gold have I not, but rise up in Jesus name.

Only Christ can transform us. Only Christ can do it.