Going Home

I don’t think there is ever as much anticipation in our lives as the moment when we get to go home after having been away for a long time. As we draw near to the town, the building or the room that our hearts call home, there is that great expectancy that rises up from somewhere in our gut and overwhelms us. I have used the word “home” to describe many places along the journey of my life so far but there are two places specifically that hold a special place in the world for me. In the past few weeks I have had the chance to “come home” to both places after a long time of being away.
The place that in my childhood memories is known as home is the small village of Faradje, which is in northeastern Congo. I hadn’t been back to Faradje in ten years but a few weeks ago I had the opportunity to visit the village for a few hours to assess the needs of people after recent attacks by the Lord’s Resistance Army. As the small Cessna airplane circled the town and made the final approach to the dirt runway, my heart was racing in anticipation of what lay ahead. What would it be like after so many years away? Would people be excited to see me? As I exited the plane and began to greet people I was overwhelmed by the sense that at long last I was able to come back to a place I was familiar with and that was familiar with me.
We took the time to take a short tour of our old house and as I entered my old bedroom I could almost sense the morning sun beating in through the windows to wake me from my sleep or the afternoon rains railing against the house in that seasonal wonder that changes everything from brown to green. I could remember the goats outside bleating to one another as they ate all of my dad’s fruit trees and the evening cooing of the doves and cookals. The room was much smaller than I remember but just the same, it was a place of memory.
Similarly, when I knew we would be spending some time at my parents’ house in Entebbe while we plan for our next project in Congo, I was expectant at the prospect of going home. Entebbe is home, not so much because I have any particular attachment to the town or the house, but because I know that my mom has spent hours painstakingly cleaning my room of all the cat and dog hair that might set off my allergies and my parents will be content because I am home. It is home because I am in the arms of love.
These journeys home have made me think yet again about the greater journey home that I am on. As I think of that final home that I am looking forward to, my expectation is so much greater. It is the expectation that there will be justice and peace and all the things that make me long for the homes I have now will be filled in that one final destination. I will have a house where I won’t think of the beauty within or of the view, but it will be a house where I am in awe of the one who prepared it for me because it is only with him that I will finally feel fully at home.
In the work that I am doing I am constantly reminded of the broken world we live in. There are the lives ruined by war and the lives stripped of dignity by poverty, and in all of it there is a longing for something, someplace that is free of all this destruction and brokenness. There is a longing to go home.

Distribution Pictures

When We Get What We Don't Deserve - Grace

Sometimes we get what we don’t deserve. We try our hardest to accomplish a goal but in the end our efforts are empty, and yet, somehow from the reaches of grace, our goal is accomplished not by our efforts but by the wonders of Him who works out everything according to his purposes and plan. I have been amazed this past week, not at all by the works of my hands, but by the wonders that God has accomplished in the work that was before me to accomplish.
I began the week loading up trucks full of our hygiene kits to distribute to over 5000 people north of here. The morning was chaotic, with confusion over the type of vehicle we had chosen and the number we needed to carry our load. After several hours of loading, we had seven large trucks loaded down with the kits and we hit the road. A few of the trucks took longer than expected to arrive at our destination and at one point we thought we would have to delay our distribution while we waited for them to arrive the next morning. But then, just as we were making plans to postpone the work, the trucks arrived and our plan went on as arranged.
We awoke early in the morning and laid out our two distribution sights with some rope while people began to arrive by the hundreds. By 9am, as we began our program for the day, there were several thousand people gathered waiting for their kits. We had two sights operating simultaneously and as we began there were moments of chaos as the people who had gathered jostled on another to be allowed in to get their kit. After some adjustments to the way in which we were allowing people into our roped off area things began to go more smoothly and once people realized that they would each get their kit everyone calmed down and the day continued without much trouble. By 3pm the distribution at both sights was finished.
I cannot even begin to describe what a miracle it was to distribute all 5000 kits in one day, let alone with time to spare. There were plenty of opportunities for people to become upset or to cause trouble at the distribution. Whenever there are large masses of people all eager to get some much needed supplies the situation is quite fragile and the mood can change very quickly. Thankfully, in answer to prayer, our distribution went extremely well.

wooden scooter


Displaced Persons Camp


Hut in IDP Camp


"Gocart" ...these kids are amazing




IDP Camp

Need

How does one quantify need? There are many somewhat moral or difficult questions I face from day to day as I work in areas where war, disease and poverty have been, and still are, the norm. Among the questions I have faced lately has been the question of need. This past week I was tasked with finding around five thousand beneficiaries for hygiene kits (towel, toothbrush, soap, etc) we are hoping to distribute to families who have lost everything in this past years’ fighting. I traveled to an area north of here which has seen some of the heaviest fighting in the past few years and as we traveled through various villages and displaced placed peoples’ camps I began to wonder, “how will we know who best to give these kits to?” In the end it was decided we would distribute the kits to families who had just returned to their village for two reasons: 1) They were returning to empty houses or no houses at all and thus had very little physical capital to start living with. 2) It would encourage those still living in the camps to return home. But still, as we registered families and gave out ration cards, I couldn’t help but wonder about the need of those living in the nearby camps – was their need not just as great?
The question of need is one that is far greater than simply what I faced this past week. Is the person whose house just flooded in the American mid-west needy, or is it the starving girl in the Horn of Africa with flies on her face and buzzards overhead? The answer, of course, is that both are needy and facing the harsh realities this life sometimes brings with it. The difficulty is in knowing how to help both in their varying degrees of need and helplessness.
Jesus taught us to love our neighbors, and what a world it would be if we actually did just that. There is, and will be until the King returns, plenty of need around us each day; it is for us to see, and answer as we have been enabled. Some of us have the chance to listen to the broken heart of our neighbor, while others of us find our neighbors in the refugee camps of the world. All are needy, and most especially in desperate need of the King. We have the glorious chance to be his hands and heart to our neighbors.
The other day I was sitting in our vehicle waiting for some work to finish up when a small child came to the door of the vehicle and just stood their looking at me with his long face, sad eyes and puffy lips. He just stood there looking at me unblinking for around fifteen minutes; he didn’t even say a word (which is quite uncommon, since the children seem to find particular pleasure in running after me yelling Muzungu! Muzungu! – which means “white person”). I happened to be finishing up a small bottle of water so I handed to him and his face lit up and a giant smile crossed his face as he took it in both hands and walked away. An empty plastic bottle had made his day. Was the giving of that plastic bottle loving my neighbor? I think in some small way it was, in the same way I hope the hygiene kits we distribute will be filled with the love of Christ as people take them into their homes.

One final thought I have had today is this: While doing these acts of love to our neighbors is important, I have been reminded that more important than that is our devotion and love for Jesus himself. Far too often I get caught up in the act of doing and forget the one for whom I am doing it, the King himself. I read this great quote from Watchman Nee today and would like to end with it. “We could labour and be used to the full; but the Lord is not so concerned about our ceaseless occupation in work for Him. That is not His first object. The service of the Lord is not to be measured by tangible results. No, my friends, the Lord’s first concern is with our position at His feet and our anointing of His head.”

In the Volcano's Shadow

After spending a few days at home in Uganda enjoying the peacefulness of Entebbe I have now arrived in the DR Congo. My travel here went surprisingly without any difficulties and I am already quite busy with my new tasks. We are putting together ten thousand "hygiene kits" for distribution to internally displaced people(IDPs) in the surrounding areas
Goma is a beautiful town situated on the shores of Lake Kivu and bordering Rwanda. It has seen some of the most intense fighting in Congo's ongoing conflicts and in 1994 received a large portion of the Rwandan refugees caught up in the genocide. It is also a city rebuilding itself on the lava that flowed through the town from the nearby volcano in 2002. As we drive along we bump along over the porous rock and dodge the occasional puddle. It is refreshing to be somewhere where it is raining and green, especially after five months without any rain in Sudan.
I am continuing to adjust to the languages as my mind is inundated with Swahili and French; it can be exhausting spending the whole day speaking a language other than my own. Thank you to all who have been praying for my transition.

I will try to get some pictures up in the near future but I no longer have my camera and will rely on my teammates for their pictures.

Final Sudan Photos

Sudan Sunset


The View Above our Compound


I have been sleeping outside my tukol on this bed because of the heat


Innovative Loudspeaker


Crowd Celebration



Football Match


Our Compound


Decorated Bicycle



Ali our tractor driver.