By Rana Costa El-Hage

“Ma’am, your blood sugar and cholesterol levels are elevated but not enough to warrant medication. I would suggest strict lifestyle modification with a focus on exercise, non-starchy vegetables, fiber-rich fruits and a moderate amount of lean protein.”

I never imagined that a routine sentence I say multiple times every day could be a source of agony. As I spoke the words, my patient’s countenance changed. She quickly averted her gaze when I caught tears filling her eyes. I paused as I contemplated how such a statement could have triggered her sorrowful reaction. 

In my silence, she began, “How can I afford those? We’re living on rice and zaatar sandwiches (Lebanese thyme).” This was early in the Lebanese economic crisis and I was still not fully aware of how deeply the devaluation of our local currency was affecting the average Lebanese family. Reprimanded, I backtracked and encouraged her to elaborate. 

She continued, this time using a typical Lebanese phrase to express loss of dignity: “They broke our necks. We lost our home due to the blast and we’re living with my sister. Our income is limited because I can’t find a job and my husband is a taxi driver. Fruits cost triple what they used to and meat? Who can buy that? I must choose between grabbing a cab home from clinic or buying a bag of bread because I only have enough money for one of those two. They broke our necks. We have nothing left.”

I held back my own tears as I listened to her. Middle-aged, well educated and helpless, the Beirut blast then freefall of the economy had hurled her family below the poverty line. I could offer her nothing. Yet

Yet I could!

We spent some time talking about the difficult times our country was going through. I began to grasp her struggle better. Throughout our chat, I couldn’t help but notice her downcast head, as if she was a living illustration of the words she was speaking. Slowly moving the conversation toward what counts, I had the privilege of pointing her to Jesus. We talked about His love for her and her family, about how she can find purpose in knowing Him and how He will be the “lifter up of [her] head” (Psalm 3:3).  

She may not have surrendered her life to Christ that day, but the seed was sown. She heard the good news of a restorative Savior. And my prayer is that some day an “Apollos” will come along to water that seed into fruition.

Across our country, time and time again, people are losing their possessions, their dignity, their sense of belonging and even their lives. Brokenness has become part of the Lebanese identity. It is at such a time that our message rings true: Come to Him who was broken for you; only He can lift up your head and make you whole!