The last time I saw him he was pushing his walker with one hand and pulling a wooden trolley with Bibles on it with the other hand. A white bandage was taped to his age-spotted forehead, and a notice on his door proclaimed that he had been sick. It took a few of my increased decibels of “hellos” for him to notice me. Even then he barely paused from his task of stacking the Bibles in the cupboard at the end of the weekly rest-home service.
When he finished his task he looked rather bemused that I was still standing there. He did not recognise me. My statement of, “I’m the speaker from South Sudan who you support” was probably not loud enough for him to comprehend. But his hearing aids did enable him to gather something about Sudan. “Sudan. I have supported that place for many years”. And then I he went back to putting the wooden trolley into place.
When I had last visited him three years earlier, when age had restricted him to a rest home but not yet taken his cognition, he had mentioned that he had been supporting and praying for Sudan since before my parents were born. From his bedside cabinet he had pulled out newsletters he had received over the years and showed them to me. And hearing I was a newby in South Sudan, he had a couple of times a year put some support into my account.
A couple of weeks after my last visit I heard that he had died. A few minutes later I stood up and shared with a group about ‘my work’ in South Sudan.
And it made me think. For now I have the privilege of being in this country. Of using my youth, my energy, my skills to serve. And there is a certain glamour and excitement associated with it (though that can quickly rub off with all the unglamorous things). I get to send out newsletters, to write blog posts, and to be introduced as so and so.
But in the end the question is will I be faithful? On the days when people take advantage of me, when despite my efforts the babies still die, when I still do not understand the culture, when I watch a country destroy itself, will I be faithful? When I can no longer run but require a frame, when my hearing has faded and glasses no longer fix my eyesight, will I still be faithful?
Will one day I be found pushing a wooden trolley? 
Life Down the Rutted Red Road 