The Last Surrender USA-BURUNDI | Nikki White
“Lying in that hospital bed—sweating one minute, chills the next—I remember thinking, ‘Man, my body has never failed me before.’” As Travis Jost recalled his recent health crisis in Burundi, he paused and swallowed as the pain of this memory etched raw emotion into his face. “I felt like God was saying, ‘This is your last surrender.’” In his journey to becoming a global worker with Multiply in Burundi, Travis thought that he had surrendered everything when he left Kansas: career, family, home, comfort. “You know, a new language, a new culture—that’s a lot to grab,” he said, reflecting on his last four years in Africa. “I felt like I had surrendered it all. I was willing to give up those things. But I don’t know that I ever really surrendered my health.” It was in July of 2021 that Travis came down with a dangerously high fever and went to a local hospital in Burundi for bloodwork. Every test came back normal, which was perplexing. “They patted me on the head,” he recalled, “and told me, ‘Go home and have some herbal tea. You’ll be fine.’” He was not fine. Fever and fatigue were soon joined by severe vertigo and, before long, Travis was unable to move from couch to bed without reeling, holding onto walls, and at times crawling on his hands and knees. He hoped it would pass, but the symptoms only worsened. “I finally waved the proverbial white flag,” he joked. “I don’t think I’d ever done that before. I called a healthcare professional—an American I knew in Bujumbura, the capital.” As he remembered the helplessness of that moment, Travis choked up again, and it was a long moment before he could continue with the story. 14 | witness
“I told him, ‘Okay, come get me.’” By the time the healthcare professional arrived, Travis was incapacitated. The man packed a bag for him, walked him down the stairs, and drove him to Bujumbura. There, he proceeded to administer a myriad of intravenous medications and to run more tests. They all came back normal, a diagnosis evading them still. Exhausted and discouraged, Travis reflected on the irony of his circumstances. “Here’s me, someone who was always into fitness, sports, always really active,” he said. “I always figured, whatever happens, I’ll be ready. Ready to go, ready to help, ready to serve. Now I’m in this bed, and I can’t even roll over without the whole world spinning out of control.” Finally, the decision was reached that Travis should be taken to Nairobi. Tickets were purchased, and he was put onto an airplane with his new companion to take care of him. Once at the hospital in Nairobi, MRI scans were taken, and the test results were shocking: Travis had suffered a small stroke. “In that situation,” Travis said dryly, “you don’t really hear the word ‘small.’” He went on. “I figured they would just diagnose some virus, fill me full of drugs, and send me back to Burundi. This was turning out to be a longer stay than I had anticipated. A lot of poking and prodding, a lot of testing and scanning: heart, blood, everything. All normal. They did not have a lot of answers.” During the whole ordeal, Travis found himself holding onto God’s Word. The first chapter of 1 John became his anchor, reassuring him of the reality of Jesus, the Word of life “which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched” (v.1). As never before, this was the source of Travis’ hope.
