The city recently tore out 60 feet of lilac bushes behind our house. They were unkempt and tangled with the property line fence. We were not sorry to see them go, despite lilacs being one of our favorite tree varieties. Why this lack of regret? Because in the summer, their shade provided a popular place for townsfolk to hang out and party unnervingly close to our home.

Cindy and I went to work installing a new fence. We had never installed fencing before. Digging the post holes was the hardest part, with rock and asphalt all the way. Thankfully, we occasionally had volunteer help from the boys walking down the alley.

As Cindy and I were finishing the last section, a friend came by to borrow our mower. His had given up the ghost after it ran without an air filter for too long. As we talked, he seemed upset. I asked what was wrong. He told me that one of his daughters had recently died. She was 29 years old. She, her boyfriend, and his mother were murdered in their sleep a few days earlier. Tragic. We have two daughters, and I cannot imagine losing one.

Half an hour later, he returned with my mower, saying he had just received news from the hospital of his nephew’s death. He then introduced me to his nephew’s widow, her mother and her sister. I prayed with them and shared the blessed hope we have in Jesus.

Death on reservations is all too common. The average age of death in Montana is 76.5 years old. The average age of death on our reservation is 57. When we lived overseas, in a malaria-endemic jungle and with crocodile-infested rivers, the age of death was 66. How is it possible that this can happen here, in the United States, with the world’s most technologically advanced healthcare system?

There is no short answer to why or what is to blame. The fact is, our Native neighbors on the more than 3,000 reserves and reservations scattered across the U.S. and Canada need Jesus, the Healer, the Life-Giver.
I have read too many ministry articles that make commerce of the misfortune of American Native people, often accompanied with images of dirty-faced, emaciated children. I understand financial needs. We have them. That is just reality. But more than money, our Native neighbors need to see hands and feet on the ground with hearts full of love.

Ask yourself: “What can I do?

“Those who wait for the Bridegroom’s coming are to say to the people, ‘Behold your God.’ The last rays of merciful light, the last message of mercy to be given to the world, is a revelation of His character of love. The children of God are to manifest His glory. In their own life and character they are to reveal what the grace of God has done for them.” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 415.5).

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