God of the Hills and Valleys

Dr. *Peters had never cared for a patient under such watchful eyes before. The room was filled with silent onlookers – little children, older men, young pregnant mothers, and the patient’s wife. They all watched silently as the doctor set down his medical bag and began to work. The group must have been there for quite some time, watching the dying carpenter struggle to breathe, waiting for help to arrive.

Five days earlier, the pastor had asked Dr. Peters to visit the sick carpenter. He asked multiple times. The first six times the pastor asked, Dr. Peters declined. He knew there was no cure for end-stage small cell lung cancer, and crossing a checkpoint without the proper paperwork to enter the restricted border area was impossible. Despite wanting to help, the doctor couldn’t see a way. On the seventh request, Dr. Peters agreed to pray about it. To their surprise, both the doctor and his wife Sarah felt God leading them to go. When the pastor asked for the eighth time, Dr. Peters agreed. (Their friend was a deeply patient man.)

After hours on the twisting, serpentine road that wound its way along the cliff face towards the little village, they crossed the river. They approached the checkpoint with some trepidation but much to their surprise, the checkpoint guard cheerily waved them through without any questions, and they began the ascent to the village.

Dr. Peters  had spent years in the area, but the roads still delighted him. The rock, the ice, the warm sunshine, the trees, the river roaring thousands of feet below, the huge off-road transport trucks that looked like minuscule ants creeping along the threadlike trails on the far canyon wall – all echoed the power and majesty of a God above all gods. 

After a long trek, they entered the little rock and hand-hewn wood home of the sick carpenter.

The Christians from the village had gathered at the old carpenter’s house that Sunday morning. They seemed to have been waiting for hours. Dr. Peters evaluated the patient’s fluid status, respiratory status, and gave him some opiates for his air hunger. The Sunday morning service took place in the single-room house of the ailing carpenter, so the doctor stayed by his side during the service, listening to him breathe, watching his wife and pregnant daughter care for him. Dr. Peters spoke that morning from Psalm 91, reflecting on the tension between joy and sorrow. The grief of a fallen world mingled with the calm assurance of ‘resting under the shadow of the almighty’. Before Jesus had done any miracle or preached a sermon, he was declared ‘my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.’ 

As Dr. Peters  ended his brief sermon, he reflected that they too, as they walked through a life of suffering and joy, did so knowing they were God’s beloved son, beloved daughter, in whom He was well pleased. They left quietly after a communal meal, the old carpenter breathing more easily after a second dose of medicine.

A few days later, the carpenter passed away, and the villagers all gathered at his home again. This time they came to beat the pastor and take the body. For six hours, the believers in the village stood around the pastor, preventing their neighbors from beating him. In the end, the pastor’s gentle appeals were heeded – the funeral was not about one religion or another, but about supporting the family and the legacy of the man. The ceremony was completed without violence – the first Christian cremation ceremony ever to occur in that little village.

Pray for the people in this icy, rustic village. They live amidst great beauty, great suffering, great opposition, and a great God. And they are dearly loved, this story provides a small glimpse into their complex and varied lives. Pray for their strength despite the pressure, for faithful leaders to be raised up, and for God’s people to complete the work that has started here.

*pseudonym

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