poem for the Day of the African Child

This poem was recited by the children of Iris Ministries Dream Primary School on the Day of the African Child, a day of awareness about the plight of children. We're not sure who the author is, but it's very poignant and expresses well the pain and plea of the children of Sudan and other war-torn nations:

“War. War. War. Where do you come from?

You destroy education, property, the whole nation.

You are a killer!

War. War. War. Your work is destruction, destruction, destruction.

You make us fear. You bring worries, sorrows, crying, and death.

Children, Children, Children. Oh my dear children. What can we do?

We are left without parents, education, food, clothes.

Who can help us?

I thank God for kind people, NGOs, churches, and government for their concern for us.

Good news to the people of South Sudan. Parents, NGOs, and government.

From now forever, say no to war.

We need peace, unity, happiness, education, and development in our nation, South Sudan.

Say no to war. No to war. No to war. No to war.”

Nuba - conflict and God's heart

a few weeks ago, fighting and bombing broke out in the Nuba Mountains, located in North Sudan in a region called South Kordofan. even though Nuba belongs to the North, many of the people fought for the southern army during the civil war and many are allied with South Sudan in their hearts. they don't want to be under an Arab government, but they don't have a choice. the government gave an order for all southern-allied forces in Nuba to disarm, which created tension and led to fighting on the ground. then bombs started being dropped, and are still dropping, where about 70,000 people have been forced to flee as refugees.

3 of our boys - Malik, Kafi, Kizito - are from Nuba. their families are residing there. they were so distressed the day it began...angry, afraid, disillusioned. Malik heard talk of the people having to flee to the caves for shelter. he remembers doing this as a 9-year old boy, and how horrible it was. they hadn't been been able to get in contact with their families and were just hearing of attacks near their villages, waiting almost in anticipation to hear a report of a loved one's death. i sat with them for hours that night, wept, feeling their burden like it was my own. these guys have become my brothers, and i really felt like this suffering was happening to my family.

i felt God awakening my heart again. i used to feel the burden of the Lord for the poor and suffering so strong and just weep for hours in intercession. i'm starting to feel that again, and even though it hurts, i'm glad for it. i want to feel His heart for the poor, weep with Him, and call down His power to turn it all around.

the week of the beginnings of the Nuba conflict, and while my friend and i have been praying hard, i was teaching at a youth conference in town. a girl walked up to me and said "My name is Laughter." she was from Nuba. a few days later, a young man stood out to me in my class. i saw Jesus in Him and felt he was special. i met him the next day. he was also from Nuba. it was such a kiss from the Lord, encouragement that He was hearing our prayers and moving. please keep praying for Nuba, and our boys.

thinking about a friend's death

One of our Iris guys died last week in a car accident. He graduated secondary school last year and went on to train as a driver/mechanic at a vocational training college in town. He was about 24. I think I'm still in shock over his death. It doesn't feel real, partly because I wasn't in Sudan on the compound when it happened. My first reaction was anger, at the government, for not caring about its people and building good roads and financing health care. South Sudan, a territory the size of France, has only 50 miles of paved roads. Yei Hospital has cats wandering around in the operating rooms. I know car accidents and deaths happen even where there are decent roads and proper medical facilities, but not as frequently. His body was picked up by our staff and transported to his family's village for the funeral. I can't imagine having been there for that.

We were never meant to die, to see people we love die, and endure that grief. This was never God's original design when He created man. I received an email from one of our guys out there updating me on what happened and how the kids were doing. He said everyone was really sad, but his last statement brought joy to my heart - "we know that to live is Christ, and to die is gain." I am continually amazed and challenged by the faith of the people there, that even right in the midst of such a painful, incomprehensible experience, they don't doubt the Lord and His goodness. It doesn't matter what happens in the world around them. He is good; they are sure of it.

I look to the day when He returns, makes all things new, the day when there will be no more death, no more sorrow, no more crying, no more pain.

Arikangelo, we miss you...but we know where you are, and we will see you one day. soon.

short note on weakness

i've been thinking a lot about weakness. i have felt doubt and fear in certain areas of my life recently, and that all too familiar voice whispers that God is not there because you are not operating in faith. it's actually the opposite. Jesus was once a man like us; therefore, He more than anyone else sympathizes with our weaknesses (Hebrews 4:15). He knows what it's like to be afraid. He is quick to show us mercy and come to our aid, even if the reason we're in trouble is because of our own mistakes. He delivers us anyway. He doesn't despise our weakness, but rather comes along side us in our struggle and walks us through it and out of it, gently.

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.