Throughout my own spiritual journey, I've been moved by stories of people who have hit bottom in their lives. It may be illness, addiction, or sin that has them down when they finally consider—or even just hope for—a more spiritual sense of life. Then, sometimes quickly, sometimes gradually, everything changes for the better.
During production of a television program about non-profit work, I interviewed a woman in Bangladesh who had received aid from the Salvation Army. After her husband abandoned her, she was destitute. Although her family had no obligation to feed her, her father did allow her to live on the porch of their clay and straw hut. She worked all day wherever she could, earning very little in such a poor country, and she had very little to eat.
At this point, a representative from the Salvation Army invited her to join a savings group where women pool very small amounts of money. Tiny loans are made to members of the group, and if a loan isn't repaid—a rare occurrence—the whole group is responsible for the debt. This woman first borrowed money to buy a goat, which she sold at a profit. Then she borrowed money to buy a cow and the cow provided milk and birthed a calf that woman sold. Finally, she borrowed money to buy repair tools for fixing bicycles. Eventually, she was able to start her own small business, repairing some of the bikes and rickshaws that clog roads by the thousands in her country. I was moved to tears when she told me she was now planning to send her oldest son to college.
What a difference it makes when caring people band together to help their neighbors. And how wonderful it is when the one who is being helped begins to see herself—as this woman did—as capable, empowered, and whole.
During this assignment, I was touched to meet missionaries who go where they are sent, trusting God for the ideas and resources they need to address the problems they find. They aren't paid much. But the man back in the United States who had organized our trip to Bangladesh told me that his family's needs were always met. "You cast your bread upon the waters," he said, "and it comes back toasted and buttered."
The television program mostly avoided the subject of religion. But as a Christian, I was inspired by the way these clear examples of service were such an integral part of spiritual searching. For instance, the "Army" had set up an office outside several large brothels where girls from poor families are deposited or sold. The idea had come from a local doctor, a Roman Catholic, who ran the clinic. He said that his friends from medical school were wealthy now, while he has little money. But he said that he finds great joy in helping these very poor people. As he put it, "It's something . . . divine, you see?"
A Hindu woman who once belonged to the brothels and who now makes the rounds as a counselor, said that although the women aren't technically prisoners, it's almost impossible for them to find another way to make a living and to summon the courage to leave. She said that she found the strength to leave by reading a Bible.
Later, I attended a church service out in a rustic village, and there was a testimony period. I asked a translator to interpret. People stood to say that they'd been ill and that prayer had healed them. One woman said that her husband had needed physical care in a clinic, so they set out on foot with no money. She prayed for God's help, and in this country where a few cents might be someone's entire stake in a savings group, an acquaintance gave her 20 dollars to pay the couple's way.
And so in Bangladesh I saw another kind of spiritual journey. The kind taken by people who go voluntarily into the pit and help to pull another traveler out. We might say these people hit bottom on purpose—then wait with their neighbor until it's clear that God's love is already there to meet even the greatest of needs, and to show the way back up, and out.
