a beautiful collision

i have been privileged to see the hand of the Lord in some of the most horrific situations on the planet. we took in a 16-year old girl who had been abducted by the LRA (a paramilitary band that sustains its activities of pillaging, rape, and slaughter by abducting children and using them as soldiers). she watched as her Congolese village was raided, her people were tortured, and her mother was hacked to death. her arms were damaged from the ropes used to tie her to a tree, and she was raped. her first day on the compound, another missionary and i walked over to the house she is living in to meet her. we introduced ourselves, shook her hand, walked outside, and both started crying. she had the most forlorn, lifeless eyes and was so heavy-laden with pain. you could see the suffering weighing her down and draining the life out of her. beholding her in that condition was one of the most horrible sights i had ever seen.

i once read an account of a missionary describing her worst moment - entering a Sudanese Dinka village after government-backed soldiers had raided it. she said that more than a hundred corpses lay where they had been savagely butchered. men, women, children, even cattle, had been cut down or herded into captivity to be carried north as slaves. devastation and death confronted the eyes everywhere.

her best moment, however, immediately follows her worst. she describes it like this:

"with the raiders gone and the results of their cruelty all around, the few women still alive--husbands slain, children kidnapped into slavery, homes ruined, and they themselves brutally raped--were pulling themselves together. their first instinctive act was to make tiny crosses out of sticks and push them into the earth. what were they doing? Fashioning instant memorials to those they had lost? no. these crosses, pressed into the ground at the moment when their bodies reeled and their hearts bled, were acts of faith. as followers of Jesus Christ, they served a God whom they believed knew pain as they knew pain. blinded by grief, horribly aware theat the world would neither know nor care about their plight, they still staked their lives on the conviction that there was One who knew and cared. they were not alone."

when i looked at our girl, i tangibly felt the horror of what she had suffered, and i could not fathom what it was like to have gone through it. but i knew Jesus was there, walking among that wreckage, and weeping as her heart wept, even though she may not have known it or felt it. He was there and He is with her now and He understands like no one else can, and she is beginning to realize that.

the Lord has already begun healing her. she has started to regain use of her arms, speak and interact with other children, smile. the healing is happening progressively, but she is daily improving. it is happening at the hands of our other children, who themselves have been touched by God and changed, and now they are reaching out and embracing and just being themselves. it is one of the most beautiful sights i have ever seen. the best follows the worst. beauty collides with tragedy.

isn't that the nature of who He is? He did not keep Himself distant from our suffering, but became one of us, so He knows it. but His knowing and understanding it is not the end of the story. He thrusts His beauty into it. He not only sympathizes with our pain; He brings resurrection, and i get to watch Him do it in this sweet girl's life.

David Crowder says it this way - "His divinity meets our depravity, and it's a beautiful collision."

restoration begins

my friend recently had a dream about me standing in a large, plastic tank (the kind we use in Sudan to retain water) being washed by the Sudanese, laughing and loving it. i immediately knew the dream meant that my joy was in part going to be restored by the people of Sudan. they were going to wash away the hurts and burdens and weariness acquired from the last year. i've been praying a lot for the Lord to do the resurrection work that He has promised to do in my heart, to give me those songs of joy for tears, gladness for mourning. for the last 2 weeks, i have felt the process begin. my heart feels lighter, happy. Wendy has been a great friend to have around. having someone i get along with well to talk to and spend time with regularly has made life so much better. i really am such a relational person who does not do well without good friends but who prospers when there is even one person that i relate to. the toddlers have been coming over fairly regularly to my house, and it truly energizes and makes my day when they do. i'll put on music and they'll dance around, we'll play ball games, i'll give them some cornflakes or raisins to munch on. i have felt the love of Abuba, mama Eudita, Betty, Tito lately. they'll joke with me, make fun of me, tell me they love me and miss me when they don't see me for a day or two. Tito bought me mango juice and donuts from town the other day. i can feel the pieces of my heart that were damaged being repaired through these moments of spending time with the people. i can feel that things about the culture that used to burden me so heavily are not affecting me as much anymore. i can feel the Spirit of God reaching into my heart and renewing broken places.

my heart feels good. God is faithful and is fulfilling His word to me. it's gonna be a good year.

psalm 126

i have been meditating on Psalm 126 for the last few months. i can't get out of it. every time i read it, the Lord's love washes over my heart. it goes -

"When the Lord brought back those of the captivity, we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, And our tongue with singing. Then they said among the nations, “The LORD has done great things for them.” The LORD has done great things for us, And we are glad. Bring back our captivity, O LORD, As the streams in the South. Those who sow in tears Shall reap in joy. He who continually goes forth weeping, Bearing seed for sowing, Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, Bringing his sheaves with him."

this is one of the most encouraging Scriptures, i think. i feel that it is so fitting for the season i'm in. i used to think these verses spoke of intercession and evangelism - sowing tears for the lost as seed and reaping the harvest. i've realized they mean more than that. it's also about sowing into your relationship with God. following Jesus has involved many tears for me, because i've responded to Him and His leadership. the Lord is saying that it is not in vain. the reward is joy. God has been speaking to me a lot about joy, about how he wants me to enjoy life and that this is going to be a good year for me. it's hard to hope, because it's just been painful for a long time. but i've heard it so many times that i know it's His word to me. i know i can trust Him. i'm in a place of such uncertainty about the future, not knowing where to go next or how to get there...but He is promising me joy. He is going to return to me everything that i have lost, resurrect what has been crushed inside of me, 100-fold, in this life and in the age to come.

thoughts on the Referendum

the week-long Referendum voting ended on Sunday. the people of South Sudan were voting to determine this region's secession or continued unity with the North. results are not out but i am sure, from conversations over the last few months, that the people voted overwhelmingly for secession. it was such a privilege to be here during this time. this is a history-making time; a new nation may be created in the next few months, and i am here to see it! it was 2004 that the Lord broke my heart for Sudan (because of the genocide in Darfur). i wanted to go to the worst place, where people were really suffering. i wanted to stand with them, to show them that they were not alone, that God cared and Christians from around the world cared. i wanted to weep when they wept and rejoice when they rejoiced, to be embraced as one of them and as part of their lives. i've been here for a year now, getting to know the people, listening to their stories, showing them that they matter and their sufferings are not in vain. i came not knowing that i would be here for this historic event, witnessing one of the most important political phenomenons of our time.

the vote began on January 9th, my birthday. my name means peace. that's exactly what marked this week - peaceful. it was like being in Sudan on any other normal day. no tension, no violence. (there were some skirmishes along the North-South border, but these were very small and few, and nothing like that happened in Yei). most importantly, i witnessed the countenances of the people as they voted. there was joy and dignity on their faces. they were proud to be Sudanese. after decades of being treated like slaves, dehumanized, they were finally able to express their views, to make a decision for themselves, to express what they thought was best and what they wanted. they were human again, free. i stood with them as they rejoiced. i feel honored, grateful.

results will be announced February 14th. please pray that the will of the people would be respected and enacted. i am gearing up for the biggest celebration i have ever seen.

it's not in vain

i was in the IHOP prayer room a few days ago (one of my favorite places on earth) listening to a chorus being sung - "i know it's not in vain, to suffer with You." i had just been talking to a friend about longing, about how God places passions in our hearts that most of the time either take years to be fulfilled or will never be accomplished through us alone. we were talking about human trafficking, my friend's longing to liberate all the slaves right now, and the pain of the realization that she can't. i was thinking of how badly i ache to adopt children and see every Christian couple doing so, and how it hurts to know that i can't do it right now and that not every Christian family will. it wouldn't make sense that the Lord would instill these desires in us and allow them to go unfulfilled for so long, if ever, except for the fact that He Himself longs so. i like to think of my longing as a small slice of His, but a taste of what He feels. longing is painful. i cannot fathom the longing of the Son of God, the one who is most passionate, who sees and knows all but must also wait. the desires within us are pieces of His. if i feel pain, how much must He feel. and so when we long, we are partaking in His longing, fellowshipping in His sufferings. this chorus struck me from a new angle. suffering is not only persecution for the faith or the fires and trials of the Christian walk on the road to perfection. it's also seeing what He sees, desiring what He has called good and righteous, pining for it, and having to wait. i believe longing is intercession. when our hearts yearn deeply for something, that in itself is transformed into prayer arising to the Lord for that thing. Hebrews 7:25 says that Jesus always lives to makes intercession for those who come to God. i think in large part, His longing is His intercession, and Jesus will get what He asks for. therefore, so will those who long with Him. it's not in vain; it bears fruit; God responds. blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

these are a few of my favorite things

i was lying in bed 3 nights ago and my mind was flooded with thoughts of things i've seen and experienced here in Sudan that have warmed my heart. i began to smile to myself as the recollections came, and i felt tangible peace in my soul...

we have about 10 toddlers who go from playing together, to slapping each other, to crying, to playing together again, in 5 minute cycles. they can sometimes be so mean to each other, but they are never slow to forgive and forget. i'll watch them walk in a line, all holding hands, across the compound. i'll hear them singing worship songs and dancing together. a few days ago, 4-year old Ema blatantly stole a scrunchie that 4-year old Iko was playing with. She began to cry, i took the scrunchie back, and Ema began to cry. i scolded him and told him he could sit over there if he was gonna act like that. to my great surprise, he actually obeyed. not 5 minutes later, i see Iko walk over to him and hand him the scrunchie. her attitude was not vengeful, like "you stole this from me. now that i have it back i'll make you suffer by never giving it to you." she knew he had wanted it, so she gave it to him. i wish we were all more like this...

my favorite thing about African culture is the priority status that Africans give to relationship and conversation. loneliness does not exist here. houses are only for sleeping. people sit on their porches and eat all meals together. there's always someone to talk to. i love eating dinner by Abuba's fire. (she's one of our house mamas. "abuba" means "grandma"). she'll often share her food with me. many of the kids congregate here, because she's amazing and everyone loves to be around her. there will be a radio playing and all of us bobbing our heads to the music. occasionally, one of the kids will get really excited by a favorite song and jump up and start dancing. there's a lot of laughter, and Abuba's deep, gutteral laugh resounds above it all. one day, i slept over at a friend's house in town without telling Abuba. i came back to the compound the next day, and she proceeded to scold me (playfully) and told me to lie down on my stomach so she could cane me (the Sudanese form of spanking). it was hilarious.

one of the high school kids, Malik, LOVES the movie Stuart Little. we watch it regularly. he'll come over, i'll make some tea. after the movie, we talk about school, soccer, Sudanese politics, future plans, God. he's a very intelligent young man who went through the worst of the civil war, running into mountain caves to hide from the dropping bombs. i love hearing his thoughts, his dreams for the future, his hopeful outlook on life, his love for his nation.

i love Safari (20) and Kennedy's (16) laughs. i want to record them and play them back when i need to smile.

Justin (25) is amazing with children. he is such a rare gem in this culture where fatherless-ness is pronounced and many men don't have active roles in their children's lives. Justin is a true father after the Lord's heart. he loves the kids, and they adore him. he's always playing with them, talking to them, holding the babies. one day, 3-year old Vicky was throwing a tantrum and was wailing out in the pouring rain. an older girl carried her to the house, but she just wailed harder and went back out into the rain. Justin was sitting on his porch and said, "Bring her to me." she wailed, he took her inside, grabbed a stick, and said, "Do you want to get caned?" she was immediately silent. he then sat her on his lap and wrapped her in the jacket he was wearing. it was so beautiful.

our compound manager, Tito, is probably one of the most amazing men i have met in Sudan. he is hard-working, diligent, honest, compassionate. he has 8 beautiful kids and works tirelessly to provide for them. out of no where one day, he approached me and said, "There are some small cakes in town from Juba. I am going to buy you some" and bought me 6. no other Sudanese has done this for me. he doesn't see my white skin; he sees me as his friend, like any other.

when i lived in a room in the office, every morning, Betty our accountant, would arrive to work and shout "Rinaaaaaa!" in a high pitched squeal to greet me. it sounds like it would be annoying, but i loved it.

i am touched that Mama Eudita, our head house mama, calls me her daughter.

i wash clothes Saturday mornings. there are normally 10 grubby little toddler hands reaching into the basin "helping" me. they'll take a shirt the size of their whole bodies, put soap onto a small piece of it, scrub scrub scrub, twist out just that small piece, and throw the shirt into the clean clothes basin. when they're not looking, i sneak the shirt back in to rewash. i love their hearts.

i love the sound of rain on the corrugated iron roof. it is the most calming sound.

i love swinging in the hammock on my porch, sipping a Coke, watching the wind in the trees or the sun set. African sunsets are the best in the world.

in a harsh environment like this one, where i feel lonely sometimes and weary in heart, joy is to be found. you have to search for it at times, because it's hidden away in a word or a small action, like a treasure. but it's there, and i love when i find it.

forgiveness

i haven't written in a little while because i haven't had much to say. nothing too exciting has been going on here, and nothing too profound has been happening in my brain. i'll share some recent thoughts, though. i've been thinking a lot about forgiveness and how difficult it actually is to carry out. i'm thinking of one of my friends specifically, a Congolese refugee and child soldier who witnessed killings and brutal acts of all sorts as he grew up in the midst of war in Congo. on top of that, he is a Tutsi and had to endure the heartache and pain of his people being massacred in the Rwandan genocide in 1994. he has been massively restored by the Lord, healed of a lot of anger and hatred. but there are still places of unforgiveness in his heart, people towards whom he feels vengeance, events he can't seem to forget. the initial Christian reaction is to call the person to forgive, which is right, but easier said than done. we who have not lived in war and witnessed friends, family, neighbors raped, hacked to death, murdered simply because they were of the wrong tribe cannot comprehend how difficult it must be to forgive.

i got my own tiny taste of the battle called forgiveness when i was harassed by a soldier at the Sudan-Uganda border. he called me into his office, for no official business (because i had already passed through immigration), just "to talk to me", and when i refused to come, his ego was hurt and he proceeded to demand my passport and threaten to throw me in jail. nothing infuriates me more than corruption, and i retaliated. i finally just walked off, with him still shouting after me, and for days afterward, i felt so defiled to have been treated so, like my humanity had been compromised. i wanted revenge. it took me about a week to forgive him, and this incident was not nearly as traumatizing as what my friend has endured.

forgiveness takes some serious Holy Spirit enabling. it defies the tendency of the human heart. i am awed anew at Jesus' ability to cry out "Father forgive them!" with perfect sincerity as His persecutors were driving nails into His hands. it was a direct confrontation to every natural human inclination and emotion. He was demonstrating His inherent power to forgive the worst deeds...and the ability to forgive the worst deeds that He gives to all who are in Him. i guess we pray for that ability, and ask for the working of that power in us.