Julie Clifford

I guess I always knew that I would someday travel on a mission’s trip. The only difference was before I became a Christian I assumed it would be with the, “Peace Corps.”

It’s been 2 weeks since we returned. It was an amazing and profoundly blessed experience: I miss the team, PTA and the Philippines so much. I am writing to witness and to share with the many who faithfully covered our team in prayer.

On Friday, July 21st, our team did a prayer outreach at the Provincial Hospital in Dumaguete City. Unless you have traveled abroad, the conditions of this well overburdened health care facility were just unimaginable. The smells alone were overwhelming. My prayer group consisted of Justin, Emily and myself. It was our first major outreach as a team. I committed my morning to prayer in preparation: in hindsight, I was clueless.

Upon entering the “critical care ward” I remember sitting down on a bed in the hallway with 2 young beautiful Filipinas [women.] I did not have the courage to ask her affliction, but it touched my heart to learn that the other girl staying at her bedside was her cousin. An earmark of this remarkably gracious and family-centered culture is that the Philippine people “take care of their own” and specifically where hospitals are extremely understaffed in skilled nursing; family members are required to care for patients. I offered to pray for the young woman: I took her hands upon her consent and then felt the Lord move in and bless us both as I prayed aloud. I had never done this before. Wherever I was lacking, God filled in the gaps.

This remarkable scenario repeated over and over all the way along the chain of beds in the corridor and into the rooms. My guess is that the people in the hallways could not afford private rooms. Many could not afford medications. We talked and prayed with a mom and her feverish teenage daughter, a husband and his barely conscious wife, children with their ill mother, and the family with the person coughing blood: I am ashamed to confess that I cannot recall their names. There were so many gracious people waiting for treatments. It became a battle to not cave in to discouragement or sadness. Words cannot adequately describe...

Our [initially nervous] prayer group stepping forward in faith throughout the outreach, grew that day distinct in character: Justin distinguished himself as a strong and compassionate leader, Emily as the genuine, intimate and caring confidant, as for myself I was blessed with turbo-prayers that were not of my own [you see, I’ve never prayed as I was compelled to that day.]

I am still deeply moved by the memories of witnessing the transformation of so many faces from dull to suddenly alert and often smiling, and to seeing the frail struggling to rise up to receive our offering of prayer and comfort. Time seemed to suspend. No one denied us the opportunity for prayer. No one on the team got sick. Imagine that...

Jeff expresses it well, “Nobody changes the world serving on a 2 week mission’s trip: you basically sign up to serve and support the existing full-time missionaries.” So there you have it: my bubble was burst before I had begun packing my suitcase. But the trip blessed me personally far more than anything I had to offer. It was truly clear and undeniable; I could see the impact of faith in Jesus Christ. They get it in Dumaguete City: the Lord is their hope. They get it here at home: the responsibility of intercessors is of the highest calling. Thank you and God bless you.