A missionary named Sheryl died unexpectedly early Monday morning in Ecuador. Very few people will claim to have heard of Sheryl. Apart from this blog post, I doubt that much, if anything, will ever be written about her. Yet, it would be tragic if no one outside of those who knew her understood the life she lived.
Sheryl was the administrator of an orphanage in a coastal town called Manta for more than 15 years. Orphanage is probably the wrong term. Most of Ecuador’s 200,000 plus orphans would be in the foster system if they lived in America. Regardless, Sheryl took care of 30-50 kids at a time who came from challenging backgrounds and did not have parents that took care of them anymore.
I met her in 2016 when a mission’s team I was on came to Sheryl’s orphanage to do some work on the physical building and spend time with the kids. My team was only in Manta for two days, yet, Sheryl’s dedication made a considerable impression on our team.
She was feisty and ran a tight ship. And yet, to know Sheryl meant that you understood some people only live with eternity in mind. It is fitting that the name of the orphanage she served at is Shekinah, which is a biblical term meaning “dwelling or settling, and denotes the dwelling or settling of the Divine Presence of God, especially in the Temple in Jerusalem.” After all, Sheryl lived in a way that showed her only concern was to someday experience the Shekinah glory of God.
Most of the kids at Shekinah are the products of severe family dysfunction. Their parents might have been addicted to drugs or alcohol. Some were physically or sexually abused. Some of the teenagers had children that lived with them in Shekinah. All the kids that lived there had experienced intense trauma of some sort. And Sheryl took care of them all. She loved them. Most importantly, she helped the fatherless that they had a heavenly Father who loved them perfectly.
Sheryl took care of and loved all those kids during and after a major earthquake. She was with them during COVID. Rain or shine, the kids knew that Sheryl would be there.
I cannot think of a more fitting picture of God the Father’s love for us than the way Sheryl faithfully loved her kids. Nor can I think of a more relevant example of how we, each of us Christians, are called to love our Father.
The famous missionary Hudson Taylor, the first missionary to bring the Gospel to inland China, experienced terrible tragedy. His first wife and four of his kids died on the mission field. Nevertheless, Taylor’s biographies paint the picture of a man full of joy. In fact, while most in his position might become bitter, Taylor has been described as being a man who “lived in the light of eternity.”
I did not stay in contact with Sheryl after we left Shekinah. And when I received a text from my good friend Oswaldo to pray for Sheryl on Sunday night, I had to ask, “who is Sheryl?”
I don’t think my response would have bothered her much. Sheryl did not live for the here and now. She lived in the light of eternity.
