Little Hell

By Pastor Steve Nute

Ephraim pulled open his car door and winced. “If you want to feel ‘little Hell’, get inside,” he laughed. I believe that the temperature in that car was well over 140 degrees. We opened the doors and windows and let it “cool down” to a comfortable 100 or so.



Every day we set new heat records, it seemed, but no experience can be compared to our trip to Edith’s home village. We had to travel over a road that was being renovated entirely and was still surfaced with only red dust. The only way to breathe at all was to roll up the windows and block out the red fiend.

The real problem came after the windows were rolled up. As the windows went up, so did the temperature.

Being rather claustrophobic, I was forced to make periodic forays into the world of dusty nostrils in order to retain my already shaky equilibrium. The combination of oppressive heat and totally still air produced a state of mind somewhat less desirable than the Sahara desert.



One other time I awakened to the same lack of “breathability”. The ever faithless 
N.E.P.A. had ceased its operation of the fans about three one morning, and I was awakened and hurriedly ran and put my nose out the window. Heat and I were not the best of friends, yet God, in His mercy, kept both Larry and I mercifully immune to most of the withering side effects.

I did get a prickly red rash about the second day there, and Doc’s remedy was, “Go home.” He did give me some ointment that reduced the redness and stopped my arms from looking as if an octopus had fallen in love with them.

”We feel the heat, too, you know,” said Ephraim. “We understand when you don’t wear a tie and when you divest yourselves of raiment when you get home.”

I guess I had a sort of funny notion that Nigerians were used to the heat. It surprised me to see Doc treat them for heat rash and such ailments. It even made the heat a bit more bearable from my point of view to know I was not the only other one beside Doc (who never complains) who felt the heat.



As I burned my backside on the overheated upholstery of the Peugeot, I was reminded that one of the main purposes for our trip was to rescue people from heat far worse than this. I smile a bit and then sorrowfully reflect that many will reject Jesus and that all the suffering of life is the only heaven they’ll ever see. 



Oh Lord, please help me to live so that others can see thy mercy and love in me. Please remind me of that “little Hell” and help me persuade others from eternal Hell. In Jesus’ name, amen.