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The Fury of Hell The fury of hell erupted against the family in Africa. The assault was so intense that we thought Pastor Stephen from Mt. Elgon was going to die. It began the morning we prepared for Joseph’s wedding. Stephen complained of a headache so we had him rest while Barry and I left for the church. Not long after we departed our Karamajong son, Bismarck noticed that he was shaking. Seconds later he rescued Stephen from falling backwards and injuring himself by crashing on the cement floor. Bismarck later told us…
“When I lay him down, his eyes got strange and rolled back in his head like a man close to death.
He couldn’t breathe and his heart was pounding with such force in his chest that it moved up and
down under his shirt like someone was punching it in and out. He couldn’t speak and then he went
unconscious. I administered first aide while his right leg flopped out of control. All I could do
is keep praying and working on his heart to revive him. Then suddenly all this stopped and he was
talking normal to me. Shortly before the service was to begin, Barry received a call that Stephen was dangerously ill. He immediately left to take him to the hospital. As his car was abruptly driven away from the church the hearts of our family ached. What was happening with Stephen weighed heavily on us. Yet at the same time there was a great joy in all our hearts as Joseph and Mercy were wed. “It is best you weren’t there, Ruth,” Barry told me when he finally came back from the hospital late that afternoon. “It would have been too much for you to see what he was going through. He was violently thrashing about with his limbs out of control and screaming, ‘I’m dying! I’m dying!’ I felt so much pain for him. I felt helpless as I watched him.” In the night while all of us were sleeping Bismarck went to Kampala to be with Stephen. He didn’t know the name of the hospital. He only knew the street where it was located. Hours later he returned home terribly sad because he couldn’t find Stephen. Then early in the morning while it was still dark he left again in search of his friend. “Finally I found him,” Bismarck later exclaimed. “When I saw him all I could tell him was, ‘My heart hurts so bad that I didn’t stay with you. My brother, I’m so sorry I left you.’” Gratefully Stephen was coherent enough to comfort tenderhearted Bismarck. Then from that moment whenever Stephen fell asleep, Bismarck lay on the floor close to him. When he was alert, Bismarck was instantly at his side to help him. We marveled as this prodigal son that unconditional love had restored now gave to Stephen the same love we had given to him. The next day the neurosurgeon informed us that Stephen had suffered a stroke. “If there was ever a good place to have bleeding on the brain,” the doctor somberly explained to Barry, “this is the place. Even though his symptoms have been bazaar and frightening, and even confusing for us doctors, the kind of stroke he had was a very slight one. He will need to stay here for several days and he should recover his walking and arm in three to four months. But there are no guarantees that any of this can happen. And for the next three weeks he is in danger of another stroke so he will need to stay where he can easily be rushed to the hospital.” The other doctor was far more grim in his prognosis. “He will never recover completely,” this second man bluntly informed us. “The arm and leg on his right side are completely paralyzed and he won’t walk again.” After five days in the hospital, Stephen came home with us. Our hearts were all in tremendous pain when we placed his frail body in the car. He was barely able to function because he was totally paralyzed on his right side and alarmingly weak. Due to all the trauma he also was mentally confused and nothing like the man we knew. The doctor’s last words to Barry were, “He will never walk or be normal again.” The family did all we could to make him comfortable. This meant that our compound instantly became an intensive care unit and a physical therapy hospital. Most of us who were with him could only cry as we cared for all his needs. When his wife left to return to the mountain we could see the pain in her eyes. Barry spent much of that first day looking at articles on the Internet to see what physical therapy we should do for him. He didn’t find much. So with the help of Bismarck he made up his own program. When this physical therapy began, Bismarck massaged Stephen’s muscles and we moved his limbs for him. A nurse also came daily to give him a shot. She later confessed to Stephen… “I felt these people were wasting their money on shots for a man who was going to die or never be normal again. That’s all we ever see here in Africa if they have what you have. They die or they never move out of the bed again.” Then God began a miracle. He started to move his leg and even his fingers a little. By that night he could walk with someone holding him up to keep his balance. The next morning we were in our office when we heard shouts from the room next to us. We rushed to see what was happening and there was Stephen grinning while he easily lifted his arm on his own and squeezed his hand. By the end of the day he could walk without any help while Bismarck stayed close to him. One week went by and we took Stephen for his follow-up appointment to Doctor Stockley, the same man who told us just a week ago that he would never walk again. The doctor came out to get his next patient. But he didn’t realize that it was with the man he had said would never be normal again. He didn’t even recognize Stephen who was walking quickly in front of him down a long flight of stairs and into the exam room. Stephen waited as the doctor sat behind his desk and read his notes. He looked at them and then looked up at Stephen. Again he glanced down and looked up. Then he did this again. All this time he never spoke a word. We knew that he was a very good doctor and kind. But he didn’t believe in God. Consequently we saw in his looks that he was quite puzzled and was wondering how this man could be walking. After a few minutes the doctor regained his thoughts and asked Stephen a few questions. He then tried to find something wrong. So he had Stephen shake his hand and he later told us with a big smile, “I squeezed his hand seriously.” The doctor didn’t have to check his legs. He just saw him walking down the stairs. So he tested his reading. No problem. Finally he made Stephen do some math. He did alright. But not perfect. This seemed to give the doctor something to feel like the miracle in front of him wasn’t one after all. “I have seen the reactions of Christians to a dramatic healing,” Barry later said. “But I’ve never watched a staunch non-believer face one. I will remember the looks on that doctor’s face for the rest of my life.” People rapidly found out that Pastor Stephen had almost died and he was at our compound being nursed back to health. One by one and sometimes two or three together they began to come in a steady stream to tearfully pour out their gratitude to us. Consequently with each passing day they were taking us more and more into their hearts. It’s as if they no longer saw the color of our skin. Somehow through this near tragedy we became one with them in a way that few white people ever experience. This marvelous good the Father brought out of Stephen’s stroke dramatically increased the impact of the message we would bring to Africa. They have seen it lived out before them. Now what we speak will penetrate far deeper into the fabric of their lives. As the days passed by Stephen grew more robust. We actually watched him become younger and stronger than before his health collapsed. At one point he told us…
“I thought I had already died when I lay on your floor the morning of Joseph’s wedding. But here I
sit. This miracle has not only changed my life. It will change the life of so many people on the
mountain because they know of others who’ve had the same thing happen to them and they are dead or
crippled and can only stay in bed. Someone has to move them in the bed. Finally the morning came for Stephen to go back to the mountain. He was visibly reluctant to leave and after he departed we all felt a tremendous loss. Then we remembered the night we sat with him under the stars and he said with such sad eyes…
“We are really going to miss each other. But we were comforted when we recalled that this exceptionally dear man also had said...
“I will never forget for all of my days what I have experienced on this compound. It wasn’t just me
who has been loved so deeply. I watched this same love being given to everyone. It did something to
me as I watched that kind of love. I’ve never seen it before. This is what our people are missing.
This is why we are being left behind. We don’t know how to love like these people do. But when I go
back to the mountain I’m returning a changed man. Meanwhile news of his healing and our stopping everything to care for him spread like a hot fire that was being fanned and blown by the wind of God, especially when Stephen publicly testified to the people on the mountain. He even told Barry during a conversation on the phone… “The people here long for you to come back to them. Their love for you is so great because of this thing you have done for me. But I can’t stand the thought that after all you did for me you still don’t have the resources to come to the mountain. I know you sacrificed all your resources to take care of me. You just have to be able to come!” We ached to go to Mt. Elgon. After years of planting seeds that cost us everything at times, the fields were white with the harvest there. Moment by moment we were keenly aware that going to the mountain is where we were meant to be before going back to America. We also knew it would crush us with grief if we couldn’t complete our reason for being in Africa this year. With all this heavy on our hearts we often awakened at night to worship so that we could keep our eyes riveted on the Father and remain inside the haven of His unshakeable peace. At times as I lay silently in the dark this promise God gave us years ago roared through my thoughts in a thunderous refrain…
“I will bring you in and plant you in the mountain of your inheritance. But the morning dawned when the decision had to be made and we still had no financial breakthrough. So when we walked into our office we steeled ourselves for whatever we had to face. Yet there we found a message on our computer that someone had sent the resources. Barry swiftly went to our front porch at 6:00 and shouted in a loud, booming voice, “Alleluia!” The whole family on the compound was waiting for that shout so that they would know the provision had come. They later told us that as they lay in their beds and heard Barry they smiled and said to themselves… “Pah got his miracle.” At sunrise three days later we were on our way to Mt. Elgon. The following day we walked on the mountain of our inheritance. |
