The grey mists swirling around the dilapidated hut seemed to accentuate the dull hopelessness in the eyes of the hunched figure. His history was one of despair. For the last four years, he had vainly sought healing from a disease that was slowly eating his body.

“I have good news and bad news,” I said softly after the exam. “The bad news is that your back will never be straight again.” They eyes continued to stare vacantly.

“The good news,” I continued, “is that there is a treatment for the disease that is causing your spine to crumble. It will take a long, long time, but you can be healed if you choose to be.”

And that’s when I saw it. Something in my words had broken through all the layers of defense. After years of despair, he had found a glimmer of hope, and for a split second, that hope flashed from his eyes.

That flicker is what I live for. It is why I am here. How I long for the day when that single glint will kindle a fire of hope that will tear through these highlands. “Now hope does not disappoint . . .” (Rom. 5:5).

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