and there was no fear

This afternoon, I walked alone through the Garden of Eden in Gamboula, Central African Republic. I took my time, going slowly down a dirt path surrounded by exotic tropical fruit trees and lush ground cover. The sun was shining, songs of birds and insects filled the air, a cool breeze was blowing. I could hear children laughing outside the garden as they filled up buckets at the water pump. It was almost too beautiful a place to really exist on earth (I always think that when I'm walking there).

Overall, I felt a calm gratefulness to be alive, to still be feeling the sun on my skin.

Many of you know that I had a miscarriage three weeks ago. Last night, in the middle of the night,a complication arose and I started bleeding. Adam rushed me into town to try to find help, but by that time I didn't have energy left to stand or even sit. So as we waited outside a gate of a French doctor, I was lying on the ground on my back, still bleeding. My hands and legs felt light.

I have often wondered how I'll feel when it comes to the moment of dying. Will I be afraid? Is it possible that at that point, the love of God will overwhelm me and all my fears and doubts will subside? It seems like in normal everyday life it's impossible to shake completely free of worries, doubts, fears. What if this happens? What about that? But I wondered how I might feel if really faced with the end of my life here.

Lying on my back under that dark sky, looking up at billions of stars, I realized that this could be it. Miles away from anywhere I could get a blood transfusion. Nobody there who actually could halt what was happening to me. Nobody, humanly speaking.

But I looked up at the stars and thought of Abraham, so long ago, looking up at the stars. About God promising him that his offspring would be as numerous as the stars he gazed at in that vast expanse. I'm one of those children. One of them, looking for a city whose builder and maker is God.

And I remembered Psalm 23: even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.

The French doctor in Berberati couldn't help us. So we headed out to the missionary run hospital in another town. Many words came to my mind in the hour or two that followed, as Adam drove me along the long, bumpy road to the hospital in Gamboula.

The Lord is my Shepherd.
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. And I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish. Neither shall anyone pluck them out of my hands.

And I did not feel afraid. I even felt a strange sense of happiness coming over me as I lay in the back of the truck, looking out the window at the stars all along that road. I knew I was hearing the voice of the good Shepherd, and that I belong to Him. I was at peace. Thank you, Jesus.

It won't be the last valley I walk through in this life...but it is good to know that I will never walk alone. And that perfect love really does cast out all fear.