Bates leaned against the desk, his feet crossed at the ankles and his arms folded comfortably. Although his wispy white hair stood in disarray and his suit was rumpled, he maintained a distinguished air. Joseph was always amazed that this man, who worked so tirelessly, never appeared weary or ruffled.

His eyes were round behind his tortoiseshell spectacles and brimmed with a fatherly concern that brought an unwelcome ache to Joseph’s heart.

“I’m not ready to settle down just yet.” Joseph offered Bates the only explanation he’d been able to come up with, the same one he’d given the doctor the last time he was home.

The older man now taught at the King’s Royal College of Physicians, where he took every opportunity to encourage his medical students to consider the plight of the poor.

It was no secret the first city had become a national disgrace. Over the past decade, the influx of laborers into London had far outmatched the availability of jobs and housing.

Conditions within the city had reached a crisis level of a magnitude heretofore unknown. Shortages of work and housing were leading to severe hunger, poverty, and disease in the overflowing slum areas.

The problems threatened to choke the life from the world’s most magnificent city, just as the stench and thick sewage in the River Thames threatened to choke the air from anyone who breathed it in.

Bates wanted to make a difference with the Shoreditch Dispensary, was reaching out and showing compassion to hurting people day after day. But his efforts hadn’t made any difference in the Shoreditch community as far as Joseph could tell. The building, the street, the neighborhood had only grown more dilapidated since the last time Joseph had been there. And the people had only grown more haggard and hollow-cheeked.

The troubles seemed insurmountable, as enormous as the mountain ranges he’d seen in Indonesia. Who could scale such a divide between the rich and poor? The contrast between the two separate worlds seemed completely irreconcilable.

“How can you bear it, Bates?” The question slipped out before Joseph could stop it.

“Bear what?”

“The desperation in each face, the heartache, the ability to do so little for them . . .”

Bates regarded Joseph, his wise eyes narrowing in thought. Joseph appreciated that his friend never gave glib answers. He could count on Bates for the truth, even when it wasn’t easy to hear.

“I may not be able to help everyone,” Bates said slowly, “but I help those God places in my path each day. One life at a time, one small difference at a time. My methods are not revolutionary. But I’m doing the small part God’s called me to, and when I obey Him, He gives me the strength I need to accomplish the task at hand.”