"Since thou wast precious in my sight, thou hast been honourable, and I have loved thee: therefore will I give men for thee, and people for thy life." Isaiah 43:4
Mustafa's bony fingers wrapped around the metal bar on the Abbey Gate at the Kabul Airport, her three year old daughter's arms clung to her neck, nearly choking her.
The night was very dark, but she could see movement behind the fence. Military men and women in American uniforms. She caught the eye of one woman. That woman's eyes flashed, squeezed for a moment in what seemed to have been compassion, but as quickly as it came, it disappeared behind the mask of a soldier.
Another soldier walked up to the gate, where she stood, his jaw muscles flexing. "No one will be helped except for U.S. citizens." His voice was gruff and he kept his eyes looking straight ahead, not looking at anyone.
Mustafa choked back a sob. She was going to die. The shooting of her husband at a Taliban checkpoint flooded her memory. "Please," she cried. "Please, my daughter. At least take my daughter." She pulled her child's arms from her neck and lifted her up to the gate.
The soldier turned away. With stiff shoulders, he walked away.
"Please, don't leave," her breath dragged over her sobs. "Please, my daughter, for her...don't let her...take her to safety." Her arms shook. No longer able to hold her child up, she lowered her child against her chest.
Her daughter whimpered.
"Shsh, Madina." Mustafa closed her eyes, glad for the whimper, as that was the first sound the girl made in days since the terror of seeing her father killed. Where was this god of the Americans that they claim was merciful?
Mustafa slid to the ground, exhaustion stealing the strength in her legs. Her husband, Salaam, was a translator for the Americans and now, he was dead. He'd claimed he met Jesus, became a Christian. "If I die," he told her, "know that I go to a better place." Mustafa snorted. Even the Muslims believed in Heaven.
She squeezed the tears from her eyes. Her husband had been a good man since he met the Americans. He had been good before, but he was freer, more at peace. Braver, not as angry. Would the Christian God really show mercy? Allah, the Muslim's claim, demands obedience...oh, she didn't know. She only knew the actions of men. Where was the Christian God?
Her chin dropped to rest on her daughter's head, and she closed her eyes. She'd not eaten in a week. They'd left their home with some food, but that was taken at one of the checkpoints. What little she'd concealed, she'd given to her daughter.
Someone shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes and a man's face appeared before her. "Come," he commanded. She leaned back from him, but his eyes met hers. His eyes were the same as Salaam, but blue not brown. Eyes filled with confidence, a deeper knowledge or perhaps faith.
He flashed a smile at her, then she noted his clothing. No turban on his head. He wore American pants, not the traditional peraahan tunbaan. His shirt was like that of the cowboys in America. Could she trust him?
He held out his hand. "Come. We will get you to safety, but you must come now."
She shifted away from him, but stood, her legs wobbling beneath the weight of her and her child. "Are you a...a Christian?"
He smiled again and nodded curtly, then started walking, motioning her to join him.
Perhaps, the Christian God her husband claimed,...was there reason now to hope?
During the time of Isaiah, the hearts of the people of both Israel and Judah were not perfect before the Lord. Isaiah had been tasked to go and tell them about God, about their sins, about what God would do in judgment and righteousness, and in mercy and grace and love. It is to Israel, that God says, "Since thou wast precious in my sight," (Isaiah 43:4) Yet, judgment fell on the people. They were taken captive, humiliated, families torn apart. So many horrible things done. But to those who remained faithful to Him, God says, "Even everyone that is called by my name: for I have created him for my glory, I have formed him; yea, I have made him." (v. 7).
God's comfort was there for those who would accept it.
My life is so easy, so comfortable compared to so many in the world who are suffering, enduring incredible hardships beyond what I can think or imagine. So when I talk of my 'hardships', they may seem insignificant in light of others' hardships. But I think that I can learn from what trials I go through.
As was my habit, one fall I prayed while I drove to feed the cows. My cry for several months, perhaps even years, had been, "Be so real to me Dear God. I want to know You more." One day in a burst of light (not light from the sun or from lightning, but a spiritual light) God made clear to me His presence. He was before the truck I was in. He was beside the truck, above, the truck, beneath the truck. God was, as He has always been, all around me, but at that particular moment, He answered my pray and became very real to me.
"When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the LORD thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour." Isaiah 43:3
Later, I sensed that trials would come, but that I didn't need to fear them.
My mother fell very sick that fall. Due to COVID restrictions, I was not able to travel to see her. She went to be with the LORD in March.
In January, I discovered a lump on my breast. The whirlwind of breast cancer and its treatments began for me. While I didn't know each step I would take, I wasn't afraid, and instead found joy and peace in the midst of the journey.
On the day I learned my mother died, the tire blew out on the truck. The day was cold, with a strong, bitter wind. With a numb spirit, feeling heavy for the loss of a mother I wasn't really able to say goodbye (rather 'see you later') to, I climbed out of the truck and attempted to get the spare tire down...but my mind and hands were muddled. So I prayed, "Lord, it would be nice is someone would come and help me." Immediately after that prayer, I looked up and a man came around the front of the truck and asked if he could help me. Of course, I said yes, but I looked around the front of the truck to see his little car, a little car I hadn't seen pass me, parked. Even now, I marvel at where he came from and his kindness, even in his touch on my shoulder before he left and a quiet word spoken to my heart. Was he an angel? Well, whether he was or not, he was used by God, an answer to prayer.
Time and time again through my life I have seen the hand of God, and it is because of His hand so visible to me in so many ways, that I have faith in His hand being present in war-torn parts of the world at this very moment.
“The eyes of the LORD are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.” Proverbs 15:3
