Truth & Trials in Togo

Throughout my journey through medical education, my goal was to use the career God gave me to serve vulnerable international populations. This goal was first realized with a trip to Malawi in May 2023 and, more recently, a trip to Togo in May 2024.

World Medical Mission is a well-known ministry of Samaritan’s Purse in the medical humanitarian world. They marry quality medical care with an evangelistic foundation.  When I gave them my availability, I was directed to a missions hospital in Togo where long-term missionary doctors were taking some much-needed time off. I could provide coverage for them.

On this trip, there were a lot of “firsts” for me from a clinical standpoint. One memory that sticks out is treating many deadly snake bites with anti-venom. It was “snake-bite season” as workers were preparing their fields for the next crop. One of the snake bite patients was a local legend, well known for hunting and killing snakes, extracting their venom, and selling it for anti-venom manufacturing. On discharge, he walked through the halls proudly sporting his battle wound.

Another vivid memory is performing lumbar punctures on small children and babies in the middle of the night. I think the parents watching were probably saying to themselves, “This white guy sure is praying and sweating a lot.” The Lord always provided in those moments, and things turned out well.

The Gospel Heals, Too

 My last patient in Togo was a young person with an aggressive cancer. I had to give the unfortunate news that the cancer had spread, and considering the constraints in the country, there was nothing we could do medically. I prayed with them, shared the gospel, and grieved with them, then ensured the chaplains would visit in the coming weeks.

Medically, I could offer no hope, but spiritually, I could offer the greatest hope there is. It was a real-life reminder that the Gospel goes to places and performs work that medicine cannot.

Experiences like these make these trips difficult but worthwhile.

Eternal Perspective

 While in Togo, I became ill for about three days. We aren’t sure exactly what it was, but eventually, after some medication, IV fluids, and rest, I felt much better. I really appreciated the care I received from the medical staff.

Before giving me medication and setting up an IV, my Togolese nurse said, “Dr. Ivan! I’m sorry you’re sick. God will guide us, and with His help, we will get you better. Let me pray for you, brother.” Despite the language barrier, I was profoundly blessed by his prayer.

I’m consistently struck by the spiritual awareness I find in African countries compared to what we see in Canada. The Togolese people often start their prayers with “Thank you Lord that I have life today,” and finish difficult conversations with “as the Lord wills.” They acknowledge the gift of daily life, the inevitability of death, and God’s control over both. I think this is partly due to the commonality of death, even in the very young and presumably healthy.

The contrast in perspective with our culture reminds me of the differing perspectives Solomon talks about in Ecclesiastes. He talks about how a heavenly perspective (“over the sun”) brings joy, meaning, and peace, while an earthly perspective (“under the sun”) brings discouragement, vanity, and anxiety.

Joy & Faith in Sorrow

 Seeing the example of the long-term missionaries and Togolese people displaying joy and faith in the face of profound loss has hugely impacted my growth.

One example is from a young patient I cared for during my last week. As I worked on the care plan and interacted with the patient and family, I grew quite attached to them. Unfortunately, on my second last day, the child passed away.

The medical staff sensed my grief and provided a lot of encouragement and comfort. One nurse made sure to come by, put his arm around me, and comforted me the next morning. Through this experience, the Togolese people taught me about grief, resiliency, and joy during suffering and loss.

The day the child passed, the patient’s nurse (a long-term missionary) sent me a beautiful liturgy to help me process. Here’s an excerpt:

For joy that denies sorrow is neither hard-won,

nor true, nor eternal. It is not real joy at all.

And sorrow that refuses to make space for the return of joy and hope, in the end

becomes nothing more than a temple

for the worship of my own woundedness.

So give me strength, O God,

to feel this grief deeply,

never to hide my heart from it.

And give me also hope enough to remain open to surprising encounters with joy,

as one on a woodland path

might stumble suddenly

into dapplings of golden light.

(From Every Moment Holy, Vol II: A liturgy for embracing both joy & sorrow by Douglas Kaine McKelvey, pgs. 298 – 300)

I go on these trips to provide respite to long-term workers and to (try to) be a blessing to the locals. But I always leave feeling they have ministered to me much more than what I did for them. They truly are remarkable servants of God.

I was humbled to provide respite to the long-term medical missionaries who spend their career in these very difficult environments.  I look forward to what will come in 2025 and my next opportunity to support them and the vulnerable patient populations they serve.

If you would like a closer look at some of my work, I’ve been featured in a video to encourage healthcare professionals to consider serving with Samaritans Purse in this way.

Learning to Trust God by Serving in a Mission Hospital