Where We Belong

The sun was hot outside in the Belizean sky. Inside the small room was filled with faces of varying hues from milky white to golden brown. The air was close and in the center of the room a wizened old man lay dying. The tall, blonde pastor spoke reassuringly to the dying man through an interpreter. Talking with him about eternity and the God that he would soon meet. The wrinkled old man curled in a ball in his hammock indicated that he wanted assurance that he was okay to meet this God. The pastor explained truths about life and knowing God through Christ. Then together we prayed for and with the old man.

For that brief sojourn in a crowded, hot, and heavily scented room I knew that we were exactly where we belonged on that day and at that time. We had helped a dying man to experience peace and assurance in his final days.