“Ahhh! Mariya, help me!” Ismael shrieked as he collapsed into a small stream. He gritted his teeth as pain surged through his foot.

“Where are you?” his wife called as she groped through the pitch blackness of the jungle night.
“I’m in the stream! Something bit me!” Ismael grimaced.

“What were you doing walking around in the darkness?” Mariya scolded.

“I was thirsty. Listen, go hitch up the oxen to the cart and then help me get in. We have to get back to the hospital.”

Ismael and Mariya had been working in their bush garden. They would often stay there for days or weeks at a time, sleeping in a crude shelter they had erected. Now, as they drove their ox cart through the dark jungle to their home in the big village by the river, Mariya lit a candle and held it close to Ismael’s foot. In the yellow flicker, they could see two fang punctures at the base of his big toe where a snake had bitten him. The pain intensified as Ismael’s foot began to swell. The hemotoxin in the venom was dissolving his flesh.

At the hospital in the provincial capital, the doctor shook his head and informed Ismael that his foot would need to be amputated at the ankle. Terrified at the thought, Ismael left, refusing any medical treatment. He tried other doctors and even the witch doctors, but no one could offer him any help. At last, he returned home, hoping that somehow his foot would heal.

A few months later, a friend told Philip about Ismael. “Ismael has asked doctors to help him, but they can’t. Could you please try to help him? He has no one else.”

Philip climbed the ladder-like steps and sat down on the split bamboo floor to inspect Ismael’s wound. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw. A two-inch hole gaped in the top of Ismael’s foot. The tendon that used to connect to his big toe was entirely gone, and the bone was exposed and suspended like a bridge. It was an infected, oozing mess. Swallowing hard and trying to act confident, Philip proceeded to clean the wound, pack it with gauze and cover it. He also gave Ismael antibiotics. “May I pray for you?” Philip asked as he prepared to leave. Gladly, Ismael accepted the offer.

After this, Philip often went to Ismael’s house to clean and repack the wound. To our utter amazement, the flesh began to grow back toward the bone.

One day, Philip noticed that part of the bone had begun to split off the top surface. He didn’t know what to do, so he made arrangements to have Ismael go to a Christian clinic in the capital city. While Ismael was at this clinic, someone gave him a little book—a Baptist catechism about Jesus and the Bible. Later, he showed the book to Philip and told him that he was enjoying it very much. He loved learning about Jesus. We could see that Ismael’s interest had been piqued, but we doubted the catechism would satisfy the hunger in his soul. So Philip gave him the only thing we had at the time—a New Testament in the trade language. Ismael was happy and grateful to receive it.

As time went on, Ismael’s foot healed almost completely. The flesh filled in and the skin grew back over the bone leaving only two small holes. Ismael was eager to get back to his farming and didn’t keep his foot clean, so it became infected again. We knew that the only way his foot could heal completely was if he stayed off of it and kept it clean, so Philip arranged to have him stay a week in a hospital in a nearby town.

At the end of the week, Philip went to pick Ismael up and bring him home. Ismael’s face glowed with joy. “Jesus came to examine my foot last night,” he said with a huge grin.

“He did what?” Philip asked, not sure he had heard right.

“Jesus came to me,” Ismael repeated.

“What did He look like?” asked Philip.

“His face was beautiful, and He was all dressed in white.”

“What did He say to you?”

“He said my foot would get better and I need to study the book you gave me,” Ismael beamed.

The only problem was that Ismael couldn’t read very well. His daughter would sometimes read to him but not consistently. So Philip had the New Testament recorded onto a little MP3 player for him to listen to. Whenever we saw Ismael and asked him if he had been listening, his eyes would light up. He assured us that he had been listening, and it was good—very, very good.
All of this happened about two weeks before we left for furlough. Every day, we pray for Ismael. We are eager to return to him and his family, to nurture and to teach them. It is truly amazing how God can take the small loaves and fishes of our cooperation and make miracles.

We are still learning the heart language of our people, and we still fumble for words and say silly things at times. Sometimes we wonder what difference we could ever make in this people group. But there is Someone who can make a difference. He speaks their language fluently. He isn’t limited by our meager talents and feeble efforts. It is so good to be on His team!

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