Travel and Verse

stories of travel, medical missions, and more

The Impact of Kindness and Loss

August 3, 2024 / / 0 Comments

In memory of the Reverend Canon Gary Philbrick

A friend of mine died a couple of weeks ago. I know, it’s quite a bleak way to begin a story. But storytellers occasionally do it. Charles Dickens starts a Christmas Carol with a death. He felt it was important. And it’s important for this story.

He was a friend for a very short time and I’m not even sure if he would have remembered me. But I counted the Reverend Canon Gary Philbrick among my friends. He served God and showed love to the people of Winchester, UK.

Winchester Cathedral rises among the rolling hills of Hampshire County in southern England. The small town has seemingly been there forever. Winchester is the home of history and tales. People lived here before the Romans came. Alfred the Great, King of the West Saxons ruled after that. King Arthur tales are a big deal here. They have a round table hanging in Winchester Castle to prove it. But nothing compares to the thousand-year-old Gothic Cathedral. It towers over this quaint town. But not like and angry old man scolding a child. It’s watching and caring for the people. It holds hearts and treasures the bones of the long and beloved departed, such as Jane Austen.

I make it a habit of scoping out old cathedrals. And whenever I’m in the UK, I like to attend Morning Prayer. The rain drizzled lightly (as it seems to do a lot in Southern England) as I walked the old stone streets of Winchester. Morning Prayer began at 9:00 and I wanted to be early. I see videos all the time on Instagram of idyllic English landscapes. Mist coming off the grass. Birds chirping. Stream rushing with geese a-play. Light, soft rain. And yet today, that’s exactly how it was. A perfect Saturday morning.

I rushed past pubs and storefronts, slid down a side-street, and popped into the grassy park area in front of the Cathedral. A smallish, heavy wooden door was propped open at the front of the building, welcoming morning worshipers. I pulled off my cap as I walked in and was greeted by quiet smiles. Colorful light sighed down through the stained-glass Rose Window. Most cathedrals are not simply one big open and vaulted room. Several smaller chapels line the side of the building. I made my way to the designated chapel. A few others sat in chairs dotted with Books of Common Prayer. A handful of candles burned and smoked. And in walked a smiling priest. Tufts of mostly white hair surrounds his mostly balding head. But a darker moustache gives him youth. His wire-rimmed glasses frame piercing eyes.

“Oh Lord, open our lips,” he prays.

“And our mouth shall proclaim your praise,” we all respond. And Morning Prayer begins. It’s a call and response of prayer and Scripture reading. It’s contemplative and beautiful.

When the service ended, I was greeted by Canon Gary. We chatted about where I was from, what brings me to Winchester. He spoke of the Cathedral and the goings on here in southern England. I was struck by his kindness. He took the time to greet a visiting American. And it was like talking to an old friend. He invited me and Christina to the Sunday service. I assured him we’d be there. He saw us sitting in the middle of a row of chairs next day and made a point to smile and give a little wave while he walked toward the front of the sanctuary.

That was almost a year ago.

The littlest kindness reaches farther then we know. Our Beloved Savior says that even a cup of water given in his name is a loving act and service to God himself. My combined time with Canon Gary amounts to no more than 2 hours. I hadn’t talked to him since then. But his friendship was dear to me. He went into hospital last month. He died after a short stay. It came as a shock to all. But he is now in the presence of our Lord.

He will be missed and his reach will last for years to come.

One day I’ll make it back to Winchester in Hampshire County and go to Morning Prayer in the Epiphany Chapel. I’ll look up from my prayer book. But Canon Gary won’t be there.

anthony forrest

Peru Medical Campaign, part 2: To Give Our Light

May 23, 2024 / / 1 Comment
Daryn Popp in the middle

Travel Journal, 141

Every year I participate in a Medical Campaign in the Madre de Dios region of Peru. This year our team of 30 consisted of two physicians, four nurses, three dentists, a paramedic (yours truly), and several non-medical supportive personnel. Click here for a basic breakdown of the mission.

February 26th-March 2nd

7 days

6 villages

1 city

250-ish miles of river

Multiple days of rain

Over 300 patients

49 confessed Christ as Savior

1 Great God

 

I hesitate to write this story. To write about myself is inherently safe. But writing about someone else? That’s another matter. Opening the curtains on someone else demands careful thought and action. I tread lightly here.

But I want to tell you, no, I have to tell you about Daryn.

Immediately the Medical Campaign’s original plans had sloughed off and new plans grew to take their place. It’s simply the nature of doing things in the jungle. Timing seemed to be the biggest change. Instead of this place today, we go to this other place. We load up a truck instead of a boat. We go to meet a man about gasoline; he’s not there.

And the first day of the trip, our boat came into Santa Alicia—a place we had no intention of being. The river was swift. Far swifter than we’d ever seen. Slow boat travel landed us here, fairly close to dark. By the time we set up clinic, held a briefing, and began seeing patient’s, darkness had fallen hard on this tiny Peruvian village.

And there is one guy that kind of holds it all together during times like this.

Daryn works quietly in the background, filtering drinking water, setting up lights, troubleshooting missing tent parts, directing patients to respective locations, and doing whatever needs to be done before you even know there’s a problem. He’s a sedate fella. He won’t yell and he certainly isn’t going to make you want to yell. His quiet and saintly demeanor are injected with a wry smile and a hilariously dry sense of humor. And this guy can sing. But Daryn above all loves Christ and can’t keep it to himself. He’s here because he needs to be here. The work needs him. And he cannot help but serve.

At Santa Alicia, a Peruvian lady heard us talking to Daryn and mentioned him by name. Seems her sister had recently had a baby. And what’s astounding about all of this is that she named the baby after Daryn. His name is not one you hear in Spanish, much less the Yine Tribal language. But this quiet servant of God was honored with a namesake in the middle of the Peruvian jungle.

In Spanish, there’s a very interesting way of saying that someone had a baby.

“Dar la luz.”

When we say that someone gave birth, we literally say that she, “gave the light.” Its origins are actually pretty clear. The Blessed Virgin Mary gave the light of the world when she gave birth to Christ.

And now Christ tells us that we are the light of the world. As Christians, we are to “let [our] light shine before others, so that they (those in sin and darkness) may see [our] good works and give glory to [our] Father in heaven.” (Matt 5)

Daryn’s example is hard to miss. He has the light of Christ and each year he diligently lets it shine. It shone so bright that a Peruvian lady gave her child his name when she, “gave the light.”

And so it goes on: Christ’s Good News of salvation from sin and death. For, “in him was life, and that life was the light of men. That light shines in the darkness, and yet the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1)

The darkness cannot overcome the quiet saint showing the light of Christ.

 

anthony forrest

Follow along for more to come on the 2024 Medical Campaign in Peru. And click here for even more stories of my work in Peru.

Missions in Malta: the Tanis Family

May 16, 2024 / / 2 Comments

Travel Journal: 140

A city on a rock. Desolate in parts, and pristine in others, Malta lies at the crossroads of the Mediterranean Sea. It’s lost someplace between Tunisia to the west, Sicily to the north, and a stone’s throw from Libya in the south. It’s tiny in space and huge in population. Malta holds the number five spot for highest population density in the world (most populated in Europe). It can feel like a city-state. Think of Singapore or even Washington D.C. Apartments rise because there is nowhere to go but up. Mr. Bean-sized cars fly from lane to lane, vying for position (walking the streets is similar). And though there’s barely room to breathe, Malta still has trees and open space. It’s a paradox. Rough and calm, loud but silent, baren and beautiful, green and tan, stone and water: it’s everything at once.

Malta feels like the middle of nowhere.

But it’s not nowhere.

It’s everywhere.

And by that I mean there’s a little bit of every place embedded into Malta. The language is a mix of Arabic, Italian, Sicilian, and even a touch of English. And that’s due to British governance which lasted 150 years, ending in 1964. Sound like a mixed bag? You’d be right.

Though wars and regime changes and geopolitical struggles may adversely affect people, it does wonders for the food. I say that only with a little tongue and cheek. Maltese food reflects this: Turkish kebab, Italian pizza, British meat pies, and traditional Maltese fried rabbit. You can get Greek Mezza right after a first course of Octopus Stew with a side of spaghetti (don’t ask).

And it is at this crossroads where we met Luke and Anna Tanis and their children. My wife and I had the privilege to visit and get a little taste of the Gospel work in Malta. They minister here at a church in Gzira, close to the capital of Valetta. Their energy is infectious. You can feel the love they have for the people of Malta and the love they have for the God who made this wild and wonderful place. In a place where nearly 100% of the churches are Catholic, they minister at one of only three or four Baptist churches. And their ministry looks a lot like the food scene.

There’s a map on the wall at Bible Baptist Church with pins pointing to origins. Sunday sermon notes are available in multiple languages. It seems they come from all over to live in Malta. And it’s here that Luke and Anna show them the love of Christ.

Anthony Bourdain said once that, “… food, culture, people and landscape are all absolutely inseparable.” The Tanis family has set down roots into a rocky, diverse place to bring the Good News of Christ to people from all over the world, right at their fingertips.

 

anthony forrest

Peru Medical Campaign, part 1: the Water of Life

March 11, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Every year I participate in a Medical Campaign in the Madre de Dios region of Peru. This year our team of 30 consisted of two physicians, four nurses, three dentists, a paramedic (yours truly), and several non-medical supportive personnel. Click here for a basic breakdown of the mission.

February 26th-March 2nd

7 days

6 villages

1 city

250-ish miles of river

Multiple days of rain

Over 300 patients

49 confessed Christ as Savior

1 Great God

Travel Journal, 139

Dare I pick a theme for this year’s medical campaign in Peru? I go back every year and every year presents its own special challenges. One year, political unrest delayed our visit to these far reaches of the Peruvian jungle. Another year, several team members became heat-exhausted. Once we had to use two boats just to get where we were going.

This year?

Water.

It could hardly be ignored. It was everywhere. In every village.

The tiny village of Tipishka sits lower on the banks of the Las Piedras than any other village we visited. Smiling faces poked through the trees, watching our boat park on the muddy swollen banks. We laid boards down onto the mud trying to not lose our shoes in the mire. It rained off and on. The whole village looked like the wooden structures grew spontaneously out of a swampy lake. Children carried tables and chairs to our clinic site through knee deep puddles. Nobody wore shoes. Feet slipped. The river rushed uncomfortably and quickly past. Staying dry in the jungle is nearly impossible—and more so in Tipishka.

We filter our own water on this trip. So while the clinic sees patients, our other team mates find water sources, filters, and keeps everyone hydrated. The water situation quickly became a problem. Tipishka has two water sources: the stream that runs into the river, and the river proper. The village uses the stream for their water source. But as we filtered the water, our system didn’t seem to do the job. Only two of us ended up with a belly full of the bad stuff. We switched to filtering the river water and had better results. But not before I ended up on a 5-day course of antibiotics.

It seems that there’s, “water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.”

In the weeks leading up to our campaign, each of us checked our phones and weather apps for a weather update, like an anxious fisherman checking his bobber. Rain, every day. Unrelenting Peruvian rain. Heavy clouds hung over Puerto Maldonado when our flight landed. And we saw the sun sparingly throughout the week of the campaign. The water rose in the streets of the city as we prepped for the trip. We organized camping equipment, clinic gear, and medications all to the soundtrack of heavy rains pummeling metal roofs.

It had been raining so much that the boat drivers had real concerns. Our team was taking an awful risk getting on a boat with the river so high. Our final destination was Monte Salvado, nearly 250 miles on the Las Piedras River—the jungle. The locals had never seen the river any higher. And it made travel slow, tedious, and difficult.

But as Chesterton says, “an inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.” The medical team traveled up the river, treated patients, spoke the truth of Christ, and cared for hearts and souls. Obstacles and inconveniences are but adventure-fodder to the Savior of Souls and Creator of Water.

Although it can be difficult to remember.

The Holy Scriptures are flooded (ehem) with references to the Water of Life. David writes that we are to be like a tree planted by streams of water. God has been in the business of quenching our thirst forever. He gave water out of the rock for the thirsting Hebrews. There’s streams of God’s glory and love in the deserts of Isaiah 35. And a woman at a well, trying to mind her own business, gets interrupted by Jesus himself. He tells her that he has a water that will well up like a spring of eternal life—never to be thirsty again. Our Blessed Savior died and water and blood seeped out of his wounded side. By it we are healed. And we are now buried with him in the likeness of his death upon baptism in water.

Not only will the water in Tipishka not eternally satisfy your thirst, it will also make you sick. The water there may even kill you if you’re not used to it.

There’s better water to be had.

The people in Tipishka, and all the other villages we visited, got a taste of this water. It’s “…the river of the water of life, clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the city’s main street…there will no longer be any curse…[we] will see his face, and his name will be on [our] foreheads. Night will be no more…” (Rev 22)

anthony forrest

Follow along for more to come on the 2024 Medical Campaign in Peru. And click here for even more stories of my work in Peru.

Peru Medical Trip: Fact Sheet

February 22, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Travel Journal, 138

Summary:

Once a year I travel to Peru to work with local missionaries on a Medical Campaign in the jungle. We spend several days prepping, then six days providing medical care and speaking the truth of the Gospel to the people along the Las Piedras River in southeastern Peru.

Where are we going?

To put it frankly? Off the map. Our team will be traveling along the Las Piedras River for 6 days. We will take a long canoe-like boat roughly 250 miles up the river to the village of Monte Salvado, which boarders the Madre de Dios Territorial Reserve. This reserve is kind of a mix of national park/natur preserve/tribal reservation. It is home to a couple of uncontacted people groups, one of which is the Maschco Piro. The people along the river are part of the Yine tribe. Their primary language is Yine, but most do speak Spanish.

What are we doing?

The team will set up a mobile clinic and treat patients. And we will do that in seven villages on the way back to Puerto Maldonado. During this time, our evangelism team as well as the local missionaries preach, disciple, and distribute Gospel materials.

Prep days:

An important prerequisite for setting up mobile clinics in the jungle is the preparation. And that starts months in advance with finding the right teammates. God has blessed us with a solid team of physicians, nurses, physical therapists, dentists and techs, paramedics, and support members. This year, it’s looking like we’ll have around 20 people from all over the States and Peru. Gear and medication prep begins when we land in Puerto Maldonado. We will spend a couple of days organizing medication, camping gear, food, and other equipment. It all gets loaded up into a long boat and our trip begins.

The Goal:

Obviously we’re here to provide much needed medical care. It is very difficult and often cost prohibitive for these people to get healthcare. But as we are treating bodies, we are also treating souls. Our goal is to spread the Good News of Christ to a people in great need. While caring for them we are pointing them to the Great Physician.

Duration:

I will be leaving on Thursday, the 22nd of February and arrive in Puerto Maldonado on Friday morning. The first couple of days being prep, we will leave for the jungle on Monday the 26th. I will be back in the States on the 4th of March.

How can I get involved?

Pray. Please consider praying for and during the medical campaign. You might think, “oh I should send money or maybe even get some training and go.” And those are certainly things that can be done. But prayer is the most important work. And prayer not just something to help with the work.

Prayer IS the work. It is the means by which we worship God. Prayer brings us before Him. It unifies all of Christianity. It is a mystery of supernatural goodness that cannot be ignored. If you want to be involved in the 2024 Peru Medical Campaign, please pray.

anthony forrest

Penitent Eyes

February 18, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Seems like each year I come back to this place,

looking for that quiet grace,

that can only be found by much water laid out

in front of penitent eyes,

that despise such things as

schedules

and alarm clocks.

 

anthony forrest

Around the World in Two Days

February 14, 2024 / / 0 Comments
Conductor in Milano, Italy

Travel Journal , 137

I have felt like Phileas Fogg several times in my life. Never heard of him? If you don’t know who that is, I recommend looking into the classic story by Jules Verne: Around the World in 80 days. If you have never read the book, I highly recommend doing so. And even if you’ve never read it, you’ve probably either seen one of the movies or adaptations. My favorite being the 2021 TV series from the BBC starring the fantastic David Tennant. The whole idea of the story goes that a very wealthy man in England is challenged to the task of completing a journey around the world point to point, in 80 days flat.

 

Between steamer boats, trains, and well-tuned pocket watches, Phileas Fogg manages to get himself all the way around the world and win the bet. Along the way, Mr. Fogg is slowly transformed. At the beginning all he simply cares about is completing the challenge. The money doesn’t even seem to concern him. He wants to get from point a to point b. His compatriot, Passepartout, disagrees with his travel technique. He thinks that experiencing a lot along the way would certainly be far more fun. During the book, Phileas, ever the English soul, ignores passing scenery it has trained window, and even at times, withholds travel niceties from himself. He just plays his cards and sips his brandy. And despite of all of this, Phileas Fogg finds himself dragged headlong into precarious situations. He meets interesting people. Solves interesting and even impossible challenges. And even in the end, the stoic pride of England even falls in love with a woman from India.

 

My mind drifts to this story quite frequently. My wife and I tend to travel quickly from one place to the next, seeing a lot along the way. I have in the past had people tell me that we don’t spend enough time in one location. Three days in London? That’s not enough time! Oh, you can’t experience Japan unless you’ve lived there. You definitely need to spend an entire summer in Thailand. Travelers tend to be kind of snobs (I’m guilty too). Usually the time requirement for experiencing locations gets longer and longer depending on who you talk to. But going to location briefly and moving on is not without its benefits.

 

I specifically felt like Phileas Fogg when we were traveling through Italy. We started at a must-see location. Rome. And much like Mr. Fogg we also stayed in interesting places. The sisters at the nunnery graciously opened their arms and we stayed two nights within walking distance of Rome Central train station and the Coliseum. Is 2 days enough to see Rome? That really depends. If you want to see it all, experience it all, wait in line at St Peters Basilica, tour ancient ruins, and get inside looks at old and mysterious places, maybe not. But still we saw an experienced so much. And then we were off. From train station to train station we traveled. Making our way north into Switzerland. We stopped along the way on the coast ate good food, and saw the beautiful sights. The stunning Med. Blazing through Italy may not be the best way to get the perfect quintessential Italian experience. But much like Phileas, the countryside out your train window cannot be ignored. No matter who you are, you simply cannot ignore people when you’re traveling. You think you can. But eventually someone will walk up to you and have a question. Where are you from? Do you have any change? Do you know the directions to x? And no matter what, things will certainly happen to you along the way. You may not find yourself trapped in India and rescuing a damsel in distress (see chapter 5 in Vernes’ book.) But things will indeed happen to you nonetheless. And you will certainly walk away changed. So, the next time somebody scoffs, “you should have been in New York at Rockefeller Center during Christmas because that’s the only time to really experience it.” Or the next time somebody says you really need a week to understand Dublin. Or, “you should probably leave the resort in Mexico because you’ve not experienced the real Mexico.” Just think of Phileas Fogg in a top hat playing cards on a train. And never let someone criticize how you travel. It’s all far too subjective. And it’s all very, very personal.

 

anthony forrest

 

Do Whatever Just to Stay Alive: Iceland and Thriving

January 10, 2024 / / 0 Comments
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty was filmed here in Stykkishólmur, Iceland

Travel Journal, 136

A couple of years have passed since I stood on the barren ground in Iceland. I gotta say, Iceland is not for everyone. It sits at the top of the world, neither North American nor European. This otherworldly place may make you uncomfortable with its sparse landscape, smoking earth, endless light (and darkness in the Winter), and black-pebble beaches. With the exception of tourist locales, it often haunts visitors with its lack of people. Open roads seemingly lead nowhere, for miles on end.

But it also surprises with an unexpected warmth. The people who live there are active, hiking the rugged terrain to nearby volcanos and glaciers. Tiny restaurants dot the landscape, here and there. It’s easy to find terrific fish and chips on this island in the cold, Cod-teeming North Atlantic Ocean. Astounding local music pours from cafés and clubs and theaters. The Jazz scene is the best in Europe. And one of my favorite Icelandic traditions happens on Christmas Eve. In the newly independent, post-WWII Iceland, the struggling economy greatly restricted what could be imported. But paper and books were prevalent. So when Christmas rolled around, the people here turned to their history of literacy and began a “Christmas Book Flood.” (Jólabókaflóð) So each Christmas eve, Icelanders give and receive books, reading and drinking hot chocolate deep into the Christmas season.

It seems that though Iceland is a rough place at the edge of the world, the people there do whatever just to stay alive. One of my favorite movies is The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Many of the scenes in that movie were filmed there. It follows a discontent guy in his forties who hasn’t been anywhere noteworthy or mentionable, or done anything noteworthy or mentionable. He slaves away at his corporate job and faces getting downsized when his company goes online. He’s forced to break out of his constant daydreaming and face a real-life world with adventures, people, and experiences better than anything he can imagine. Walter lost his dad at a young age and has since then put his dreams away. At the beginning we are led to believe that he is simply just doing what he has to do to get by. But when forced to leave his desk, we discover that when he actually does what he needs to do to survive, he’s really thriving.

Though the people in Iceland appear to just manage during a dark winter and barren land, they are really thriving. It’s the beauty of this life. We tend to literally make the best of things. We get a taste of that here in Minnesota. The sun hardly shows its face during Winter. The minus 40 windchill prohibits most activities. And everything feels dismal. But somehow, we thrive.

Stay Alive, by Jose Gonzales plays throughout the film, Icelandic terrain as the backdrop. The song tells the story of the movie.

There’s a rhythm and rush these days

Where the lights don’t move and the colors don’t fade

Leaves you empty with nothing but dreams

In a world gone shallow

In a world gone lean

He’s missing something, until we breaks out and finds that…

Dawn is coming

Open your eyes

Look into the sun as the new days rise

We’ll do whatever just to stay alive

I thought of this song as we stood looking out on the North Atlantic in the fishing village of Stykkishólmur. The helicopter scene was filmed there. The quiet and quaint town sits on the north end of western Iceland. Sun sets for an hour in the summer, and rises for only an hour in the winter. It takes hours to get there from anywhere.

A tough place.

Out of the way from anything.

They fish and create crafts and run tiny cafés and serve people like me darn good coffees. One could say that they’re just getting by. But in their “getting by” they’ve created a place of warm delight. They thrive in a seemingly hard, but now beautiful life.

They do whatever just to stay alive.

 

anthony forrest

 

You can revisit Iceland in these other stories:

Iceland: on Covid testing and travel in a post-pandemic world

Iceland: on hot springs

Iceland: on the people and culture

Iceland: on Stykkishólmur and the men from God

How to Save the World and the Best Things First

December 1, 2023 / / 0 Comments

Back to Peru, part 6

I recently spent some time in the Peruvian jungle. Every year, I work with a medical team, bringing healthcare and the Gospel to a people who need both. Here’s a few tales.

I suppose this is a kind of book review. But first, let me explain…no, there is too much, let me sum up (unabashed Princess Bride Quote):

No matter which part of the United States you live in, getting to and from Peru is a hassle. Getting there takes me about 16-18 hours. But getting home runs roughly 24 hours of straight travel. And that’s if everything goes smoothly (and it rarely does). Perhaps that is why I reclined on the floor of the Miami airport, staring blankly at the screen mounted my gate. The time of departure delayed even later. What was supposed to be a seven-hour layover, was now building up to 11 hours. Nearly two weeks in Peru wore on me. And even though this trip to Peru is the highlight of my year, I longed to be home.

Our team had treated just under 200 patients in a weeklong medical campaign push up the Las Piedras River. This year, the prep work and post-clinic cleanup and briefing was almost as tough as the clinic we hosted in the deep jungle.

The people in this part the jungle receive very little medical care and even less spiritual care. Needless to say, they have many needs. This begs a question: which needs do we strive to meet? What’s the best thing for a people on the brink? And if we are fortunate to discover what those needs are, how do we as Christians meet them on a sustainable level?

I pondered questions like these while I sat on the floor in my semi-filthy jungle clothes, waiting for a flight home.

I began to doze when I was interrupted by a tall, nicely dressed man who sat down right next to me on the floor. We said hi and mutually bemoaned the unreliable nature of travel in a post-Covid world. We appeared to be two very different people. This guy seemed to be a business man. And me, not so much. He asked about my work and why I was traveling. If there is one thing I love to talk about, it’s Peru. Each year I travel to the jungle to help a people who desperately need it. And I told him so. People tend to gloss over if I ramble about anything. But this guy was on the edge of his seat.

Photograph by R Mathiasson

Suddenly it was my turn. I asked and he introduced himself as Bjorn Lomborg. He said that he worked for a “think-tank” and hailed from Denmark.

“That’s the kind of answer I’d expect from a CIA agent,” I joked. He only laughed and assured me that he was indeed not a CIA agent.

Throughout our conversation, he asked pertinent questions about Peru:

“Do you see any leishmaniasis?”

“How many patients have you seen with tuberculosis?”

 “Is there any follow-up with patients?”

“How do you know you’re meeting their needs?”

Most people I talk to don’t ever go this deep. And these were all good questions.

And after a while, it clicked where I’d seen Bjorn. He had been a guest on the Joe Rogan podcast. And most recently, I thought I’d seen him speak in an interview with Jordan Peterson.

Bjorn works with the think-tank Copenhagen Consensus Center and has written various books on topics such as climate change and environmentalism. His questions came from a place of knowledge and actual concern. And as I (finally) boarded my plane to come home, I clicked the Buy it Now button on my Kindle to read his latest book during my flight.

And here’s that book review I promised you.

I won’t try to completely explain Best Things First by Bjorn Lomborg. His background and knowledge on global environment economics are way out of my league. But like Indigo Montoya in The Princess Bride, Bjorn sums it all up nicely in the very first paragraph of the book.

“We all want a better world. Unfortunately, our efforts are often hampered by wanting to achieve not just some but all good things at once, many of which are near-impossible, prohibitively expensive, or terribly inefficient, or all at once.” (Lomborg, 21)

He speaks to the UNs Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and gives his own responses. The UN has attempted to tackle something in the neighborhood of 1,400 goals to bring the world out of poverty, hunger, destitution, and simply make the world a better place.

Long story short, it’s not happening. I know it’s shocking, but the UN and all the hoards of this world’s politicians are simply not delivering on promises to improve the world.

Bjorn’s response? Let’s tackle the goals that will have the biggest impact on the world in the best way possible, as fast as possible. If we are going to spend heaps of money to make the world a better place, let’s spend it on the things that will make the greatest difference. He outlines 12 areas of change, such as tuberculosis, education, and trade.

He goes into great detail in each of these areas. I won’t go deep right now. If you want to know something about how we as the human race can make the world a better place, I highly recommend Bjorn’s book. It’s detailed, specific, and scientific. Be warned, tis quite heady.

My chat with Bjorn and reading his book challenged me as a Christian too. How do we save the world? Christians innately value more than just this present world. We are concerned for the soul. And yet, Jesus came feeding people and healing the sick.

As a follower of Christ, what am I called to do? There seems to be a rift between two trains of thought in Christianity. Some would say that Christian’s should focus only on preaching the Gospel. Others would say that humanitarianism is our greatest calling.

Our Great Commission is to, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” (Matt 28:19)

Indeed our concern is for souls. People need to realize that there is more to this world than the present. And Christ is not willing that any should perish in Eternity to come.

And yet, I think Bjorn makes an excellent point in a later chapter of his book.

“For many people in the poorer world, concerns for the future are strongly overshadowed by immediate and urgent concerns about illness, education, housing, or putting food on the table.” (Lomborg, 273)

But I have good news. Earlier in Mattew, it teaches that when we clothe and feed others, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” (Matt 25:40)

Treating the bodies of a Peruvian family with tuberculosis, and speaking the truth of Christ’s eternal salvation are not mutually exclusive. As Christians we are not simply called to do one or the other. We do each through the other. We feed and clothe and treat the ill because it’s as if we are doing so for Christ Himself. And we make disciples by speaking the Gospel, all in our own kind of “Sustainable Development Goal.”

How do we save the world?

We save the world like Christ saved (saves) the world. We come healing, and feeding, and preaching, and teaching. Bjorn wrote about 12 goals that make the greatest impact for people and world economics. For us Christians, the “Best Things First” certainly may include each of these goals. But the overall Best thing, is meeting needs in concert with the message that Christ, “came to seek and to save the lost.” (Luke 19:10)

anthony forrest

 

Check out the rest of this series:

Part 1, Prepping and Packing

Part 2, Delayed

Part 3, Leaving soon

Part 4, A Tale of Two Boats

Part 5, Coconuts, Rats, and What We Give

Coconuts and Rats and what we Give

September 1, 2023 / / 2 Comments

Travel Journal, 133

Back to Peru, part 5

I recently spent some time in the Peruvian jungle. Every year, I work with a medical team, bringing healthcare and the Gospel to a people who need both. Here’s a few tales:

 

I literally had a person tell me to have a “good vacation” right before I left for Peru. A smile came to my face and I nodded, saying I would do just that. But vacation is certainly a grave misjudgment of what we do in Peru. Do I have fun? Of course, heaps of fun. But don’t get me wrong, this is work—the Lord’s work.

Let me paint a picture:

After nearly 18 hours of travel, the plane poked through the clouds, revealing the snaking Madre de Dios River. My last leg included sitting in the very last seat on the plane, right next to a poopy little baby. We pick up our checked baggage of medical supplies and other stuffs for the week, meet the local missionary, hop in the taxi, and bustle off in a flurry of dust and travel-weariness. What comes next, you ask. A nap perhaps? Or maybe a shower? But the only thing on my mind is the mission. For the next week and a half our team will need to prep and execute a mobile clinic in villages along 250 miles of river. And the prep weighs very heavy in my mind right now. Tents need to be organized. Medications need to be readied. Pills need to be separated into patient-packs, ready to distribute. It’s hours of work and organization that has gotten easier as the years have passed.

The team slowly trickles into the country. Each new team member experiences the same thing as me. We land. We work. Clinic is coming. Will we be ready? Will everything fall into place? Will God do his work? We know the answer. But we’re nervous, nonetheless. Each of us possesses gifts; we have some way to contribute. But we have doubts whether those gifts are sharp enough, ready to use. But all want to give what we can to get this thing done. And as we finish up prepping and stand at the edge of clinic week, we’ve already given much of ourselves. This is no vacation. This is work—good work—the Lord’s work. But work, definitely.

The night before we packed up our boats and started hosting clinics along the Las Piedras River, I stood talking on the phone outside the house where I was staying. I was catching up with the little woman when a dog walked around the corner.

Peru has a ton of dogs. And one of them came up to me and dropped a dead rat at my feet. I stood looking at this offering of Peruvian benevolence while the dog gazed at me questioningly.

I had questions of my own.

“Is this it? Is this how I live? I give all that I have: time, money, and strength. And how does Peru repay me?”

Rats

It was a momentary thought. I don’t really feel like that. But for a moment, I wondered if what we do is worth the trouble. Any questions lingering in the back of my mind were answered later in the week.

When our boats pull up to a village, we unload our gear and begin the process of setting up for clinic. I readied my station: triage and registration. (Every patient being seen comes to me first. We take their vital signs, talk about any medical complaints, and direct them to see the doctor, dentist, vision, ect.) It was a brutally hot day. We carried everything up to the village and clinic was ready to go. I looked over a half wall, out into the village. A lady stood there staring at me. She just looked intently at me.

“I know you. You have been here several times! Thank you for coming!”

She was right. I had been here. And since I’m being honest, I should tell you that I didn’t recognize her. But being there and doing the work mattered to her.

It was sweet and refreshing.

And later in the week, another lady walked up to me and said almost the same thing.

“I know you. Thank you for coming!”

She then shoved a coconut into my arms. My sleep deprived and overworked mind nearly let burst a levy of tears.

Is all the work worth it? Not only are these people getting physical help. They are also hearing the Good News of Christ. So obviously it is worth the work.

But do I only get rats in return?

There’s a passage in Hosea that had read after clinic had ended and we were making our way further along the river.

God says in Hosea chapter 6, “I desire loyalty and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”

We may think our sacrifice is the most valuable thing about us during this clinic week, or even in our Christian lives. But God requires our devotion more than anything. He wants our entire being.

We may find rats along the way. But God promises far more. Hosea goes on,

“Let us strive to know the Lord. His appearance is as sure as the dawn. He will come to us like the rain, like the spring showers that water the land.”

He refreshes us like rain and springs showers. He gives us the sweetness of coconuts and Peruvian smiles. And all he requires is a loyal heart and a life steadily seeking Him.

So even though it’s a ton of work, and there may be rats along the way, what we give is far less than what Christ gives us. During our clinics he gave the Peruvian people healthcare. He gave them the Word of God. He gave them Eternal life.

What did he give me?

Coconuts

And I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

 

anthony forrest

 

Check out the rest of this series:

Part 1, Prepping and Packing

Part 2, Delayed

Part 3, Leaving soon

Part 4, A Tale of Two Boats

« Older posts

© 2024 Travel and Verse

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑