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Getting Older, Growing Younger

A few weeks ago I celebrated my birthday and, as I do every year, I took some time to reflect on what I have learned and the ways in which I have changed in the past year. In most ways, I am still the same old me, but there have, of course, been circumstances and experiences that have molded me in new ways.
I would like to think that I have gained a little bit more wisdom, nurtured the growth of knowledge in my life and become more generous, more loving and more hopeful. Unfortunately, as I look back on my year, what I often seem to find is that along with all the good changes in me, I have also amassed new levels of cynicism, skepticism and caution. While caution certainly has a wise foundation and skepticism normally stems from encountering too much of humanities nonsensical effusiveness, there is nothing that kills joy quite like losing the quiet trust that once held the place of prominence through childlike confidence and hope.
Life is certainly more complex than I ever imagined as a kid and yet as I grow older I am struck by my need to be growing more childlike in faith, hope and love. When I was younger I always dreamed of being on the front lines of helping those whose lives have been shattered by war. I wanted to be there to give assistance to those in need so that they could go back to rebuilding their lives. It seemed so simple.
Now that I am actually on the front lines of assisting refugees and displaced people, nothing is ever as simple as it once seemed. There are partners to chose for the work, corrupt officials to haggle with, seemingly unending needs and requests for assistance to sort through, locations to pick from, and the list goes on… . Delivering aid is never simple either. There is always someone who has been missed and someone else who has cheated the system, and of course there is always the chance that the very aid I am delivering will make the already traumatized people a target for yet another brutal attack. Then, there is the difficult task of getting people back to their normal lives once the disaster/conflict has run its course and people have grown accustomed to the aid. Nothing is simple and cynicism becomes “the soup of the day”. Questions like “Am I really helping” rage in the mind and disillusionment and despair set in. The problems will never end.
The knowledge and theories related to aid work only serve to compile the complexities of already complex situation and pretty soon the very people I have been called to serve become subjects of a great experiment and objects to be tossed about by the world’s tumultuous turning. Love, hope and joy go out the window.
Jesus told his disciples to have faith like a child. In childlike faith we see a Father who is greater than the universe we have imagined and we see Jesus who loves us desperately. We see people with hurt and needs, clambering for freedom from the bondage that has held us all for so long, and we know that we have tasted of that freedom and it is ours to share. We see not subjects or objects but people with names, faces and hopes.
It is so easy to have a job. It is another thing altogether to have a calling and to follow that calling the way a toddler wobbles toward her father’s outstretched and eager arms during her first steps. The footing isn’t so sure but the joy and the embrace of those arms is.
Another year has started for me. Pray that it will be a year of growing younger even as I’m getting older.

Photos from recent church seminars in Congo.

When we arrived there was a welcoming song performed by a church choir. They followed us to the house we stayed at singing the whole way.

We had expected around twenty participants but the church was packed!

These women cooked some excellent food for us!

One of the participants.

The pastor's son.

The Ambiguous Life

“They agreed that they were foreigners and nomads here on earth…They were looking for a better place, a heavenly homeland.” ~Heb. 11: 13, 16

Missionary Kids (MKs) and the broader genre of “Third Culture Kids” are often noted for their flexible, nomadic lifestyle. It is not necessarily a lifestyle that they have chosen for themselves but is certainly one that becomes woven into the fabric of their identity. As an MK I am not in the least bit ashamed to count myself as one of these global wanderers. This lifestyle does, however, pose certain dilemmas and comes with its fare share of fears and uncertainties. For example, my least favourite (and yes I spell it the British way) question is, “Where are you from?”
There are days I wish I had a good answer for that question, but the answer has simply become more complicated as I’ve grown older and taken jobs in countries that do not count as my residence.
Quite often I find myself longing for a place to call my own, and I am sure that at some point in my life that place might exist, but in those times of longing I am also reminded of Abraham and how God called him to wander and essentially go nowhere – which, by the way, also spells “now, here”. I am reminded that now and here I am called to live nowhere because my hope is set on a place, and more importantly a person, where all my longings will be filled.
It does not mean that the journey is easy or that because my hope is set on heaven I simply forget about what this world can offer. In fact, quite the opposite is true. I find myself struggling to be content with not knowing what tomorrow will hold; fighting the urge to just throw in the towel on this ambiguous lifestyle that I live for something more 9 to 5. Since my trip to the US a little over a month ago, I have frantically purchased relief items in the mayhem that is Kampala, Uganda, made one quick dash to Congo and back, been to meetings in Kenya and scheduled, rescheduled and rescheduled trips into Congo for various purposes. Hardly anything goes according to plan. I did not know until Sunday afternoon(today) if I would have a plane available for a trip into Congo Monday(tomorrow) morning that I had planned for over a month. The uncertainty of what each day might hold can be torturous at times. It can also be very joyous and exciting when I have surrendered my plans to the King.
Tomorrow I fly into Congo (at least that’s the plan) to try and meet with various partners and potential partners in our work there. I am more convinced than ever before that the battle ceased to be merely a physical one long ago, and that for reasons only the Kings knows, I have been thrown into this battle which at times seems like it will overwhelm the church and my feeble attempts to help it. And so I simply ask you to pray. Pray because we know that this battle is ours for the taking; the gates of Hell will not prevail over the Kingdom because the King has said so and his word is SURE. There is nothing ambiguous there. Pray for willing martyrs for the faith who will stand up as light in the darkness. We can no longer afford to be hidden, fearful disciples of a King who died for us when the darkness is so great and the world needs a “city on a hill” blazing out the hope, love and glory of the King. Pray for me that I will daily lay down the ambiguity and uncertainty that each day can bring and will revel in the surety of the presence of Jesus.
In my favourite children’s series, The Kingdom Chronicles, there is a part were the watchtowers of the Kingdom let out the call from tower to tower, “How goes the world??” and the answer comes back, “The world goes not well, but the Kingdom comes!” Yes indeed, the world is a messed up place, but thanks be to God, the Kingdom comes!

Informative Article

Here is one of the best articles I have read summarizing the activities of the LRA in the past year.

NEW Statesman Article

A Sparrow Falls

Tiny hands, tiny fingers too
sister is crying on the floor
brother beside her is scratching
the bites, the sores, festering.

What is their name?

Orphan child,
forgotten,
forget.

The world is a cruel place
the wars, the hunger, lingering.

They are the first we forget

to their plastic cup with a spoon of mush
to the dirt floor, to the damp rain
huddled together, sharing warmth, diseases.

Brother wonders what the boys will say
their collared uniforms, his tattered tee,

Sister is tired
of fetching water,
the crying, the tears, unrelenting.

Mama? Who is mama today?

…or who isn’t?

Tiny fingers keep grasping
but the air is too hard to hold
its emptiness too big, too impossible, exhausting.

She will live without regret
there was nothing to forget

A sparrow falls.

Safe???

“Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly. “Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion –the Lion, the great Lion.”
“Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he – quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”
“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver, “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”
“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” – C.S. Lewis The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe

It is before dawn, light still has not sprung from the eastern edges, but day has begun regardless. Maybe it is the mosquito buzzing near my rickety cot, the rooster crowing outside or perhaps I’ve just tangled in the net meant to keep the bugs from spending the night with me, but either way I am awake. It is hard not to be sensitive to the noises of the night in a place so unfamiliar to my habits.
As the sun rises through the muggy morning I find enough water to splash my face and brush my cotton mouth away. I am greeted by the questions of the morning: How did you sleep, how was your night? I am offered some steaming, sweet tea and a few bananas; the day is in full swing. I wander out to see the world and am followed by pastors, community leaders and a man with a gun. For the first time I realize, I have a bodyguard…

I have been traveling around the US for a little over a month now, trying to rest up and get ready for the challenges that await me as I return to Congo for another year. One of the things that has stood out to me as I have visited with friends and family is the number of times I have been asked about my safety or told to “be safe”. While I am extremely grateful for the concern and the sentiments of caring that have been extended to me by many along the way, I feel it is important to point out that as a disciple of Jesus I am not called to “be safe”, I am called to followed him wherever he might lead.
The call of Jesus is a far cry from a call to safety(by the world’s standards). Jesus never said, “Come follow me and I will make your life easy and safe”, instead he said, “Pick up the cross and follow me”. The cross, in my mind, is about the most unsafe place to be. To be clear, I am not saying that as a Christian I am going out looking for danger - that would be lunacy. I am, however, saying that regard for my personal safety is of no consequence when the King calls me to follow him; my life is in His hands. Following Jesus may cost some of us our very lives (and for many it has) but we follow willingly and joyfully, knowing that this world is not our home. Is the journey at times very frightening?? Of course it is!! But that is exactly why we are walking with Jesus in His surety and not down some path of our own choosing. Complacency and a life of “safety” would be the death of an intimate, trusting relationship with the King as He uses us as instruments for the advancement of His kingdom and His glory.
The vocabulary of the Kingdom is not a “be safe” vocabulary, but rather a vocabulary of “be strong in the Lord”, “have courage and hope” and “run the race with perseverance”. When we feel like quitting we need to be reminded of the King and how He left the sure safety of heaven to walk with courage and resolve to the cross for our sake; how He, with compassion, bore our suffering so that one day all this mess of a world we live in can be made new. We need to be reminded that He gave us His Spirit, not so that we could sit back and relax, but so that we could share in His courage and resolve to bring His kingdom on this earth.
If you want to know if my work is safe by the world’s standards the answer is simply no, we live in a world full of heartache and evil. However, I serve a King who is GOOD and that is what matters the most.

The Loss of Innocence

Several weeks ago I traveled by road to one of the areas that has seen a lot of LRA activity in the last year. It is hard to describe the hardships people have faced as the LRA have spread their web of fear over northeastern Congo. It is especially hard to describe what this conflict has cost the children.

I was taken to see a young boy of maybe ten or eleven years of age who had recently been recovered from the LRA in an operation to rid them from the area. He had been a captive for almost a month and half, having been abducted in June, and had spent his days carrying supplies for the LRA while eating roots and other barely edible foods. Along with other boys his age he had been forced to walk for hours each day and night through the wilds searching for another garden to raid, another home to pillage, another village to scatter with fear.

How do we begin to comprehend the loss of innocence, freedom and hope? All over northeastern Congo there are thousands of children growing up in fear; many of them traumatized for the rest of their lives by what their eyes have witnessed – what no one should ever have to witness. How do we make sense of this world where so many can grow up in an unfolding tragedy while others live lives untouched by the ills that are so prevalent in places like Congo?

I also recently visited an old woman who is caring for 26 orphans. My heart breaks because she is giving her all for the children but is barely making it. There isn’t money for school fees and she can hardly find the milk powder to feed the tiniest of babies she is caring for.

This has got to end. This war, this pain, this loss of innocence.

More info on the LRA situation

The Roads....

Distribution Photos

A brief look at the area I'm working in.

You Have Heard It Said...

Jesus began much of his dialogue in the Sermon on the Mount with the phrase “You have heard it said…” and yes, indeed, we have heard many things said. We are bombarded with messages urging us to “live on the Coke side of life”, “just do it”, and that there is “change we can believe in”. In the religious realm we are encouraged to live “a purpose driven life” praying like Jabez while elevating our worship. The barrage of inconsistent messages we receive each day far too often leaves us living out unremarkable lives in a world that is in desperate need of remarkable people.
Jesus knew that what people had heard was not necessarily wrong; after all, who ever thought that murder or committing adultery was good. He, however, was not content with the status quo, he was calling for people of extraordinary commitment in their love for God and those around them. He didn’t just want people who don’t murder, he wanted people who don’t harbor anger in their hearts; he didn’t want people who only love the loveable but those who will love the unlovable ones. He doesn’t want me to simply pray for the displaced who are suffering the affects of war, but to pray also for the immigration officials who stop me at roadblocks for hours waiting for a bribe.
James wrote that “Religion that is acceptable is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress.”(1:27) Isaiah and the prophets ring out in similar fashion, “true fasting is to break the chains of injustice, to set the oppressed free, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked and to provide the wanderer (IDP/refugee) with shelter.”(chpt 58) Paul, in his second letter to the church in Corinth, challenged them to give from their plenty to supply the needs of those who were less fortunate. His manner of writing on the subject suggests that it may have been a slightly touchy issue and yet he urged them to give from what they had(chpt 8) . I have often seen this demonstrated here in Congo where someone gives in the fashion of the widow of Mark 12 by offering their only chicken or a stock of bananas as a gift to their guest.
Kingdom work is difficult and requires sacrifice. Perhaps we have heard it said that as a Christian we will be joyful, at peace, more than conquerors and rewarded by our King. And yes, these things are true, but dear friends let us not look for our reward at the beginning of the journey but at the end where faith gives way to sight and the greatest reward is the glory of our King. Peter wrote, “you greatly rejoice even in the face of trials because you know that your faith is more important than gold and will be proved true and lead to praise of King Jesus when he is revealed.”(1:6-7)
The truth is that I would very much like to quit my work and pretend that this world does not have places like Congo where people are suffering. I have no desire to see people starving or naked. I would like to shut it all out. I would like to absorb myself in some other project or place that is not quite so difficult. I would like to give up. But, I am reminded that my King is a king who lives among the untouchable, unwanted, unnoticed, forgotten, downtrodden, abused ones. He is the “Man of Sorrows”, familiar with suffering , and he knows the names of all the abducted children, all the raped women, all the starving men sleeping in makeshift huts. The King is here and I will rejoice because though I may face the trials of today by His side, the day is coming (OH YES! IT IS COMING) when he will make all things new and believe me I will have a BIG smile on my face on that day.

You and I have heard it said….but will we hear what HE says?

Passing Through The Waters

How do you describe flying over mile after mile of jungle and thick bush dotted here and there with the occasional thatched roof to land in a clearing that just kind of appears in the middle of all the foliage below? How do you describe the need, and the little you have to meet that need? How do you describe the pleas for assistance? How do you make sense of the world’s silence in the face of a disaster far greater than the 9/11 attacks, hurricane Katrina or the Tsunami of several years ago? Where will the strength come from to face the tasks at hand?
As I began this project several months ago I was reminded over and over again of Psalm 43. “When you pass through the waters I will be with you…” It has been a comfort for me as I have continued on with a project that has met many obstacles along the way. After seven weeks of waiting for government paperwork and clearance to distribute the relief supplies, the first few flights to deliver supplies began a week and a half ago. Since then we have delivered over 20 tons of supplies by air and an additional 20 tons by road. In each place we visit the need is far greater than the supplies we have but the people are thankful nonetheless. God has been faithful in protecting us and opening the way for the distribution of supplies to take place. We have passed, and continue to pass, through the waters.
As the end of this project is nearing my heart is rejoicing at what has been accomplished but is heavier than when I started because we have only put a band-aide on a bleeding heart. Daily I get requests for food assistance or medicines and almost just as often I hear reports of children snatched from their homes and marched through the bush. The silence in the press and lack of attention being given to this crisis weighs heavily on me as it is my friends, my families, that have faced the atrocities of the LRA and now risk starvation in the coming months. The need is so great.
We do not live in a fare world, I have come to accept that, but when several thousand Congolese are murdered and people don’t notice, it is time to stand up and shout. If you have had the time to read this, I encourage you to take the time to write your congressperson, write your local newspaper, write anyone you can think of that might care and tell them, “The LRA are reeking havoc in CONGO. They aren’t in Uganda anymore. There are as many if not more displaced and murdered people in northeastern Congo as there are in Darfur. What can we do to stop this?” Dear friends, please do not just read this and go back to the schedule you had planned for your day. Pray, give, call, write, do something.

Photos of distributions in Congo

A chief in Dingila telling us about the LRA.


Loading up a truck from the plane at Faradje.


The Church Office Dingila.


Loading up a truck.


Loading Blankets.

Loading up the Caravan with tarps.

Items ready for distribution.

Distribution Ingbokolo.


Distribution Ingbokolo

Perhaps quite the place to stay back in the day.

The Church in Dingila


Displaced Persons House Faradje

Displaced Persons House Faradje

He wanted to know how much my camera cost.

The LRA burned down this house belonging to a friend of our family at Faradje.

The DC3 being unloaded at Faradje.


DC3 at Faradje


Women cooking at Faradje.


The relocated Banda Bible School building in Dingila.

What?? No tractor??!

A small picture of this area.

Your Cow Ate My Chicken

Six weeks ago I arrived back in Congo knowing that I was likely to face some obstacles on my way to delivering the relief supplies we have procured. I never imagined that six weeks later I would still be waiting for paperwork to exempt my relief supplies (read that: “free stuff given to needy people”) from custom’s taxes. Working in Congo has never been easy, mostly because of the ludicrous demands of the various government departments that happen to be in whichever location you end up. For example, in 1998 when my family made a short trip to Congo, my dad was required to buy Congolese insurance for our vehicle a kilometer from leaving the country. In essence, every government official is looking for some way to fill his/her pocket.
This kind of free-for-all by government officials originated after independence when Africa’s quintessential dictatorial “big-man”, Mobutu, declared, “Motu na motu abungisa”, which literally means, “Each person should build” or, “Each person should work to fix”. While I believe this phrase was meant to be more like JFK’s famous, “Ask not what your country can do for you” speech, it was taken more along the lines of, “The government isn’t going to do anything for you, so take what you can while you can.” It has been more than ten years since Mobutu was removed from power but this mindset is more prevalent in Congo today than ever before.
While my situation at the border has been discouraging in many ways for me, it is the Congolese who face these obstacles each and every day and lose the most from the corrupt governance that surrounds them. A common sentiment among Congolese I work with is, “Inshi yetu hawezi simama” or, “Our country will never stand up”. It is mind boggling to my friends why their own government would make delivering aid to its people so difficult.
There are too many stories of corruption and extortion to tell them all, but one of the most comical and my favorite so far is the “your cow ate my chicken” story I heard several weeks ago. My friends and I were driving along a dusty, rutted out road when we came to a bridge that had a military contingent to “guard” it. As we crossed the bridge one of the people in the car asked if it was the “ngombe yako alikula kuku yangu (your cow ate my chicken)” bridge. This question of course sparked my interest so I asked why the bridge would be given such a name. My friends explained that one of the soldiers at the bridge had several chickens and one day one of them went missing. The soldier was quite upset about his missing chicken and when a cow herder came by the soldier stopped him and demanded that he pay for the missing chicken. The herder was taken back by this demand and said he knew nothing about the missing chicken and didn’t know why he should pay for someone else’s chicken. The soldier then demanded that the herder pay because, “your cow ate my chicken”. I never heard if the cow herder ended up paying or not but the story struck me as both comical and sad because in all likelihood the herder did pay; afterall, he wasn’t the one with a gun.
I have been told that my paperwork is on its way and that I should be able to begin my distributions soon. In faith, I have arranged for an airplane to arrive this next week to begin the work. Please intercede on my behalf and on the behalf of those suffering from this conflict, that this paperwork will, in fact, arrive quickly. Ask also that the enemy’s plans and frustrations would be thwarted and that we would be instruments of hope and peace where fear and despair are so commonplace.

150 rolls of tarp


25,000 blankets

A Call to Commitment

Note: Below is something I have written up in the last week as I have thought about the state of western commitment to missions and in particular my own generation's commitment. While I know that there are potentially many flaws with what I have written, (most notably that I have made quite a few sweeping generalizations without empirical data to back it up) the point of posting this here is to get people thinking about what it means to truly give our lives to following the King. I have been working back in Africa now for two years and in the current trend of missions that is "a long time". There is something drastically wrong about that. If you get the time I encourage you to read below and give it some thought. Thanks - Aaron.




In my work I have the privilege of working through national church groups to deliver relief supplies and aid to the needy communities within which they work. Often, in both Sudan and now in Congo I have spent hours bouncing my way down trails through the bush only to reach locations where the church has centers to help those around them. These centers are, more often than not, old mission stations built more than half a century ago by missionaries intent on making a difference in Africa.
While much has been said and can be said about the mistakes these missionaries made, one thing is certain; they answered the call of the King and gave their lives to answering that call. The very permanence of the structures that still stand is a testimony to the missionaries commitment to the call of Christ on their lives.
This past week I was at one such mission station, with the church having been built and established long before even my parents were born, and I had an encounter with an individual there that has left me pondering the state of western commitment to the call of Christ to follow him. The man I encountered was the cook, named Solomon, at the small guesthouse where I stayed. He heard me speaking Bangala and inquisitively asked where I had learned it. When I explained that my parents were missionaries and had worked not far from where we were he grew excited and began to tell me of all the missionaries he had worked for as a cook. His list was long and began with missionaries who had worked in Congo many years before it had gained independence from Belgium. He has served faithfully as a servant to the servants of Christ for more than half a century and continues to do so joyfully.
As I walked away from my conversation with him I couldn’t help but wonder at the number of missionaries this saint (because he certainly is one) has seen come and go. He has served for years with commitment because he believes he is serving those sent by the King to bring good news to his people.
These old mission stations and the old saints that remain in them stand in stark contrast to the current state of missions and commitment among westerners to the call of Christ to take His good news to the farthest reaches of the earth. While these old mission stations and the legacy of the churches the early missionaries left behind endure, today’s missionary comes and goes having achieved a great experience but having left little of enduring quality behind.
The work of missions has certainly changed and evolved over time but the commitment to it should not. While missionaries should be looking for ways to partner with and work under the existing African churches, those churches should not have to bear the burden of providing experiential short-term opportunities for westerners to feel as if they have served their King. The need for long-term commitment is as great as ever and felt all the more by the lack of impact short-term missions has on a church or community in Africa. While these short-term missions experiences may be life changing for those involved from the west the focus is wrong; after all, when did Christ ever send out the disciples so that they could boast about their service to him and tell of the great experience and life changing opportunity they had to serve him. Christ’s call to go is not about personal betterment but about spreading abroad his glory and fame.
Most of the founding members of both AIM (Africa Inland Mission) and SIM (Serving In Mission), two of the earliest missionary groups to work in Africa, died while founding the fledgling missions to Africa. Early missionaries to Africa knew that the likelihood of survival was slim but they went anyway; trusting that the One who had called them was faithful. Dietrich Bonhoeffer correctly wrote, “When Christ calls a man he bids him come and die”. In Matthew 16 Jesus says to his disciples that they must take up their cross and follow him. A cross is a place to die and until we recognize that the call of Christ is a call to die to all that we hold dear our commitment to his call will be flimsy. The early missionaries understood what it meant to follow Christ. When I look around at western missions today I have to question whether or not we still do understand the call of Christ. It is a call to abandon ourselves in obedience to the King’s directives for our lives.
Today westerners are keen to be involved in confronting the injustices and hurts of the world but are not willing to abandon themselves to the very causes they claim to be passionate about. They are willing to devote themselves to a point; if they can have a great experience to tell of and to check off on their “to do” list of spirituality they are content to go back to their unchallenging lives of comfort, suburbaness and feel-good worship. If the call of Christ presents a challenge to the comforts they have known they go on a mission trip to ease their conscience and then go back to “normal” life. Today’s western Christian does not know what commitment means; if the call of Jesus Christ the Crucified and Resurrected LORD means that they must battle alongside African brothers and sisters for life and not simply a few weeks or months, the white flag of surrender is raised to the comforts of western living.
The call of Jesus Christ is not a call to apathetic religion supplemented by doses of good works, but a call to weakness, perseverance, suffering and joyfulness in the face of a world that rejects us even as it did our King. Suffering is not something that the disciple of Christ runs from but gladly embraces knowing that in suffering we are gifted the greatest of opportunities to share the incomparable riches of God’s grace in our lives. Jesus lamented the rich young man because he was unwilling to abandon his all to follow the One who fills our every longing. Will we in the west heed our King’s call? Will we give him our lives or are we content with just a few years, or months or weeks? The enduring works of the early missionaries for the glory of the King stand in testimony against us and our unwillingness to commit ourselves to the challenges that await us if we, in obedience, listen to and obey His calling on our lives. Jesus calls us to deny ourselves and carry the cross. For some this may not involve the mission field but it involves denial of self nonetheless, while for others it means letting go of that well manicured lawn and finding yourself covered in African dust.
Many of the old missions have become so entangled in the western non-committal attitude and the false pretext of “non-dependency” that it may be that the committed Christian must look for new avenues of partnership with the African church. It may be that committed missionaries will find themselves under the direct leadership of African churches, battling alongside brothers and sisters who understand perseverance in the face of poverty and suffering. I am not saying that missionaries who work with the well-established western missions of today are not committed to the call of Christ (Two generations of my family have devoted their lives to the King and Africa through such missions). What I am saying is that many of these missions are softening their commitment to the countries in which they serve, creating more and more short-term possibilities for westerns who are unwilling to spend a lifetime of service in a foreign land.


Here is one interesting link that is somewhat tied into these thoughts: Do Short Term Missions make a Difference?

Working in Weakness

Working in Congo is a constant reminder to me of just how weak I am. I want to be in control, to have things go smoothly and to wind up feeling accomplished. But Congo is not that way; things that would take a day elsewhere take a month here and it is almost always completely out of my hands. Corrupt officials and years of failed government make simple border crossings with relief supplies into a nightmare. What other countries would welcome for the sake of their suffering population, Congolese officials see as an opportunity to fill their pockets. And so, I have spent the last few weeks feeling quite powerless to change the predicament I find myself in – how do I get the supplies that people need to them?
The other reason I feel weak is due to the enormity of the suffering taking place around me. Almost daily I get calls asking me when I will be able to deliver supplies to displaced people and often with these calls are stories of attacks on yet another village by the LRA. I hear the stories of houses being burnt, people being murdered and children abducted, and I feel helpless in the face of such evil and suffering.
The apostle Paul wrote of rejoicing in his weakness. He could go through a list of all of his accomplishments and at the end he called them nothing; it was his weakness that he rejoiced in because in his weakness Jesus’ grace was evident in carrying out good deeds for God’s glory. I am reminded by this that the work I am doing is not my own, but that I have been called to these good deeds for the glory of the One who called me and in my weakness He is strong. It is hard being weak, but at the same time it is a blessed avenue to let the glory go where it is due.
In the west we place enormous value on personal accomplishment, but in the economy Christ’s Kingdom value is measured by obedience to the call of the King; a call which we must never forget is the call to carry the cross, to daily lay down our own desires and ambitions so that our resurrected Lord can live out His will in our lives. Often this means being weak; often carrying the burdens and sorrows of those around us. Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his book The Cost of Discipleship put it this way, “The disciple-community does not shake off sorrow as though it were no concern of its own, but willingly bears it. And in this way they show how close are the bonds which bind them to the rest of humanity. But at the same time they do not go out of their way to look for suffering, or try to contract out of it by adopting an attitude of contempt or disdain. They simply bear the suffering which comes their way as they try to follow Jesus Christ, and bear it for his sake. […] They stand as bearers of sorrow in the fellowship of the Crucified: they stand as strangers in the world in the power of him who was such a stranger to the world that it crucified him. … The community of strangers find their comfort in the cross, they are comforted by being cast upon the place where the Comforter of Israel awaits them.” (Bonhoeffer 109)
I have spent much of the last few weeks waiting on officials who are keeping relief supplies from being delivered to needy people. It makes me very angry and it also makes me feel helpless in the face of people’s greed and indifference to others’ suffering. However, we press on because we know that we are called to this work and that our Father is not indifferent to the suffering of his children. We wait and feel the pain of those who are waiting in hope that we will bring a tiny amount of physical relief to them and we press on because we know that we are not alone in this struggle; we have a King who is familiar with this world’s evils and understands the suffering we see each day.