One week ago, a man that I have lived and worked with for
over a year, passed away suddenly. This will be a very raw post.
I am tired of being anything less than real, so this post is
going to have some of the most genuine and possibly offensive truths that I’ve
ever laid out.
The truth is, I misjudged him. He was my friend, yes. But,
as I have discovered, we can often be most critical of those that are closest
to us.
You see, in a place where we all pour out and give so much
to serve our Lord and those in this beautiful country of Mexico, if you
perceive someone on your team to be giving less than the “norm” or what is
expected, it can be hard to not find yourself frustrated.
When I met Joshua over a year ago, I noticed the pace at
which Joshua moved was less than average. I racked it up to be that Joshua was
just one of those people who took his sweet time getting where he wanted to be,
and doing what he wanted to do.
It really wasn’t a big deal to me, then. Until as I began to
work more with Joshua, in the kitchen or on projects, I could become frustrated
with how slowly he moved. It always felt like I was doing four times the work
he was, and even though I often tried to just let it go, slowly something in my
heart began to sneak up on me, that would deem him as lazy.
As time went by, I noticed Joshua moving slower and slower,
I would watch him walk up the hill every day at such a slow pace that it would
be hard to watch.
More and more I noticed that he would leave work early or
come to work late. And in my heart, more and more that critical spirit labeled
him things that most people would probably have agreed with. About two weeks
ago, I had one of the most critical thoughts I had ever had about Joshua, this
man that I called my friend, that I had laughed with and shared many stories
with. This man that I’d worked so closely with for over a year. As we worked in
the kitchen and he moved so slowly to cut the lettuce for our lunch, I remember
thinking, “Why don’t they just send him home? He obviously doesn’t want to be
here. He is a weak link in our team. We all pour out so much, and we need
people who are giving their all.”
That was one of the last times I ever saw Joshua.
After a support-raising weekend, I came home and got up
early on a Tuesday morning, came to work and joined in on our daily meetings
here at YWAM, Mexico.
My fellow staff members seemed very solemn, we were
worshipping, when I saw our base leader crying and hugging another staff
member, I turned to Nathan and said, “did something happen?” He told me what he
had just discovered as well, “Joshua died of a heart failure, he had an
enlarged heart. His oxygen level was only 70 percent. ”
My surprise overtook me, and then, my guilt, and then my
anger… “WHY DIDN’T WE KNOW HE WAS SICK?” Oh, the signs were so obvious…
As the next few minutes unfolded, the surprise and the guilt
only grew. I would come to find out, that Joshua knew the whole time, that he
was sick, and probably also knew as well, that he was dying. But he never told
any of us.
We lived with him, we worked with him, we laughed with him,
but we actually came to find out, that we knew very little about him.
About the struggle he’s endured alone for years.
A couple days later, we would hear a story that made things
make so much sense.
A good friend, Rally would speak to his brother in Nigeria,
and for the first time we would hear a story that fit pieces of the puzzle
together, in a way I never thought would happen.
When Joshua was 5 years old, he lost his mother. When he was
11 years old, his father also passed away. It was only his older brother and
him for a long time. Joshua led his older brother to the Lord, and after that
shared his dream of serving the Lord as a missionary. His target: Mexico.
Joshua began to have heart issues, and when he went to the
doctor, the doctor explained the seriousness of his condition. But he wouldn’t
be stopped. He took the medicine, but refused to let it keep him from the
mission field.
His older brother pleaded with him to stay, but Joshua loved
the Lord. When his brother was adamant about him not leaving Nigeria, Joshua
snuck away, once in Mexico, he called his brother to let him know where he had
gone. His brother wept and told us, “That was the moment I knew that Joshua
loved God more than he loved me” And that was the moment, that I realized,
Joshua loved God more than he loved his own body.
As months passed, I could see that Joshua was moving slower
and slower, things that he used to do with ease, he did with what seemed to be
all he could muster up in his energy. But I was blind, we were blind.
For whatever reason Joshua chose not to let his YWAM family
in on his suffering must have stemmed from the same reason that he never told
us of the many sufferings he sustained in his life. The man that I thought I
knew was not the man he turned out to be at all.
The revelation I had during the memorial as we were read his
story, and as the shock of what he had been going through health-wise began to
make more sense. I realized something very precious that led me to repentance
and many tears…
This is a story of the widows might.
That familiar story in the bible, that Jesus tells us of the
rich men that gave quite a bit, and a lonely widow, who I can imagine slowly
moving up the altar to give her few copper coins. And how my Jesus blew our
minds when he showed us the truth of this story… That woman gave more than
those men combined. Why? Because, she gave all that she had.
I began to think, when have I ever given all that I had to
serve God even when I couldn’t breathe? Or through physical pain and tiredness
that I can only imagine?
From the outside it might appear that I, and many of us,
worked harder than he did. But truly, he surpassed us. And now he is in his
glory with the king.
This has taught me many things, but one of the things that
in my guilt and repentance I have sought to change in myself the most, is to
not judge those around me, but to love.
I wish with all my heart that I could have loved him better,
bore his burdens more, and most of all not judged him.
Things are not as they seem. There was once a time that I
thought Joshua was the last person here that I could have learned from, and to
my surprise, I have learned more from him than anyone.
This is a quote from Joshua, which he wrote on his facebook
status on May 23rd.
“The strongest people are those that love beyond all faults.
Cry behind closed doors. And fight battles that nobody knows about”
For whatever reason, he believed what he was doing was
right. Even when he felt those around him judging him, even when we put more
work on him than he probably could have handled. In his loneliness, he was not
lonely. He found his identity in his father, and drew his strength from him.
Goodbye my friend, thank you for what you have taught me.
May I see people for what is truth under what is perceived, may I love beyond
all faults. May I perceive when people cry behind closed doors and help them to
fight the battles nobody knows about. I love you.
