Serving God at the Good News Hospital
by Laura Doherty
Three years on from a cancelled medical elective as the result of the pandemic, two years of post-graduate medical training in Northern Ireland, many months of planning and paperwork later and I found myself staring at the empty baggage carousel on my own at nearly midnight in Ivato airport, Antananarivo, Madagascar, my bags still stranded somewhere in Paris! It’s difficult to put into words the “out of my depth” feeling that struck me in that moment as I stood there alone and very far from home churning over a multitude of questions in my head – What was I doing here? What could a 27-year-old junior doctor possibly have to offer to those living in a culture and context so far removed from her own? Is there still a need for and value in cross-cultural medical work? Would I be suited to it? And is this something I should be considering on a long-term basis? Would my rusty A-level French be sufficient? How would I cope with the heat, the food, the rhythms of daily life? Could I trust God in all of the uncertainty that lay ahead?
A few months in and it became clear that there was so much I had grown to love about life at Hopitaly Vaovao Mahafaly; working and living alongside people who shared the same hope and joy in life, the unashamed daily sharing of the gospel at the hospital alongside the provision of essential medical care, the dusty red hills, the best mangos and pineapples I’ve ever tasted, joyous Friday movie nights with families living on compound, the melange of languages and regional dialects spoken each day and the lady near the small market who’s massive smile and patience with my broken Malagasy never failed to draw me in for a conversation and persuade me to buy something from her stall.
And yet, amongst all the joys, the lows came too. It was heart-breaking to look in the face of another young mother and explain that there was nothing more that the team could do to save her child, or to watch as the family of a critically unwell patient made the difficult decision to take them home from hospital and always wonder “what if”, to see patient after patient arrive at the hospital just too late because of a long journey or lack of money, or to call time on the resuscitation of a neonate who never manages to take their first independent breath. I struggled with the inequity of the distribution of healthcare resources, often knowing how different the outcome may have been had we been in the west. The rota was tough, the hours long and any patience or graciousness God granted me so swiftly disappeared when I was tired. My French was, in fact, far from good and my limited, basic understanding of Malagasy led to a reliance on translation from a kind colleague which made compassionate communication, which gives value to patients and their stories, so difficult. Add in trying to explain the gospel and the fact that I was and always will be a vazaha (foreigner) who grew up in a culture so far removed from the life of those in Mandritsara and it would be so easy to allow disillusionment, doubt and despair to creep in.
Words from Psalm 121 in the ICU
But in all of this, the joys and the lows, I am so thankful that we have a God who is full of compassion and mercy, who hears our prayers and who has given us the wonderful gift of the Psalms which can so often give voice to those feelings and emotions which are so hard to articulate. Isn’t it wonderful that we can know that he is sure, steadfast and good even when things get tough or overwhelming? That we can lift our eyes up to the hills, as I so often found myself doing to the red dusty hills behind the hospital, and know where our help comes from – our God, the maker of heaven and earth (Psalm 121:1-2). A verse so aptly displayed in a mural on the walls of the ICU (Intensive Care Unit).
What a comfort, in those heavy moments of brokenness, to have been reminded again of a God who is sovereign and faithful and to learn to trust that he is working things together for good beyond my understanding. I am so thankful to have been part of a wonderful team who were always ready to lend a listening ear and remind me of our confident hope in Jesus. To have people walk beside me, as I began to figure out and learn what it might look like to lament over despair, choosing instead to hope, and acknowledging the wonderful truths that death has already been defeated in Christ and that one day the brokenness will be no more as he returns to make all things new.
Laura and colleagues
I don’t yet know what might be next for me, although I hope that one day God may open the doors to allow me to “go” again and serve in a cross-cultural setting. Nor do I know what lies ahead for the project, but I am totally convinced and confident that God cares deeply for the people of Mandritsara and that amongst all of the brokenness he is working things together for good, that many will hear the good news through the work of the project and that one day we will have the complete joy of standing together before the throne as part of the great multitude from Revelation 7:9 bringing joyful praise to our sovereign God.
Prayer points:
Praise God for his sovereignty and for his sustaining hand upon the work of the project.
Pray for the medical team: for unity and strong friendships that serve as an encouragement in the heavy and tough moments, for wisdom and compassion in treating patients and for eyes that see and courage to take the many opportunities God gives for sharing the gospel with those they encounter. Pray that God would continue to raise up doctors who could join the team and serve in Mandritsara on a long-term basis.
Pray for the patients and their families: that God would bring healing, and that they would hear and understand the Gospel message and turn and trust in Jesus.