In just two weeks, I will be leaving for Rwanda to spend 10
days learning about the genocide that occurred there in the 1990s. From Rwanda
I will spend 2 days debriefing the semester at a guest house in Uganda, and
then I will be flying home. This may be my last blog post due to not having
internet access, so I want to leave you with some of the thoughts and emotions
I am sifting through as I prepare to face an old yet very new reality back home
in good old Pottsville, Pennsylvania.
What do you say to a little girl who tells you to take her
back to America with you as she willingly has no problems leaving her family
behind, if she in fact does have a family? What do you say to a young woman who
asks for your left over clothes and tells you she feels betrayed by her father
because he promised her a good life yet can’t provide food for supper? What do
you say to the little children who just told you how they were abandoned and
left on the streets to fend for themselves, some at the age of four years old?
What do you say to your host family when you tell them you won’t get malaria
because you buy medicine to protect yourself while your host cousin is in the
back bedroom with the exact disease you’re protected from? What do you say to
your roommate when she tells you she’s having a bad day because someone made a
comment about her dead brother? What do you say to the people of a nation who
witnessed their family and neighbors being hacked to death by machetes during a
100 day genocide?
I have in fact faced all of those encounters. I don’t know
what it’s like to live a poor lifestyle. I don’t know how it feels to be
betrayed. I can’t empathize with my roommate because I have my entire family, with
good health, waiting for me to come back to our home. I can’t begin to fathom
what it was like for the people of Rwanda during the genocide when their flesh
and blood was being murdered in masses, inside of churches, thousands of bodies
rotting in the streets. I have never suffered. I have found myself looking into
the ugliness of life, but I have never lived in its midst. I have an escape. I
get to walk away knowing I have a home, a safe, healthy place waiting for me. I
get to walk away knowing I am part of a country, part of a culture, where
there’s more than enough. I get to walk away.
How do I process that? Is there any blame on my behalf for
the life I’ve been living in America? I spent three months living out of a suitcase.
I’ve been bathing in a bucket, the same bucket I use to wash the seven outfits
I’ve been wearing for the past three months, and I still have more than enough.
A young girl said to a friend of mine, “I can’t do miracles
because my skin isn’t your color. You can do miracles because your skin is
white. Your skin is better than mine.” I saw a child about the same age as my
little sister back home who was playing on a dirt bank naked as a button, and
as she slid down the bank the dirt covered her bare behind. A young boy asked
me for 3,000 shillings (about $1.50) just so he could afford primary school. How
do I handle these situations? What’s the best way to respond? There’s a bit of
shame and guilt that fills in my heart, but I know those emotions are not mine
to bear. I have to do something, but what do I do?
I question how I’m supposed to react to these things. I question
how I’m supposed to act once I get back home when just thinking about stepping
foot into Wal-Mart gives me anxiety. I question myself with how I’m supposed to
relay all I’ve experienced that are found under the surface level happenings of
my trip. Uganda is beautiful and God’s presence is here. There are happy
children and not all of them are starving. There are medical clinics and homes
for the orphaned children that are run beautifully, but that doesn’t mean life
is all palm trees and monkeys around every corner.
Giving money to the beggars isn’t the solution. Telling the
hungry child that God is with them doesn’t satisfy the hunger in their stomachs.
Feeling sorry for the sick and wishing they had better health services isn’t
going to solve anything. I question what the solution is. What can I do? How do
I respond? As I spend time pressing into the Lord’s heart, I can only think of
one thing: love. I believe the best
place to launch is to set fire to the world through the love of Christ. Compassion. That’s the ticket..or so I
believe. Our words do carry power, but sometimes actions truly do speak louder
than words, especially when the orphaned child doesn’t speak English. For
whatever reason, God has given me the life I have, yet that does not mean he
loves me anymore or any less than the homeless HIV patient. Throughout the gospels, Jesus was filled and
moved with compassion. He laid hands on the lepers and met with the woman at
the well who wasn’t seen as worthy. Who am I not to do the same? I am not too
good to hold the hand of the woman with AIDS or to hug the small child who just
crawled out of the slums. The material things my American culture has given me
are not going to change the world. While I believe those blessings have been
given for a reason, they are not the end all and be all. I believe the correct
response is to live a servant’s life loving
humbly and furiously. Please read the definitions of love in 1 Corinthians
13:4-8. It has become my challenge to walk in that love and to remember that love never fails.
It is going to take me a long time to process all I’ve
experienced during the last couple of months. Love may or may not be the
answer, but that’s the conclusion I have come to so far. I want to share my
experiences. I want you to know the good, the bad, the ugly and all the joyful
things I’ve experienced. I’m an open book and I promise not to hold anything
back! I will freely and gladly share whatever you ask me to share, but I only
ask that you take what I say with a grain of salt because my experiences are
solely based on a 4 months’ time during a study
abroad trip. I didn’t come here on a missions trip and 4 months is not nearly enough
time to sum up all of Africa, let alone Uganda. I only know in part. There is
much for me to share and I am more than willing to make time for you, and I’m
sure as I continue to process, I will have even more insight for you in the
time to come.
So what do you say to the little girl who tells you to take
her back to America with you? Or to the woman who feels betrayed by her own
father? Or to the sick and hungry? I believe you say nothing. You hold the
child’s hand while you walk down the street and you hug the young woman. You
sit among the sick and hungry and when it’s time to say good-bye you leave with the hope and faith that God’s
love has already overcome.
SEVEN SECOND VERSION!
To solve pain, sickness and suffering, I believe loving
humbly is the answer. If you want to hear about Uganda, holler at me! Actually
you should probably facebook me or something because I don’t think I could hear
you hollering at me all the way in Uganda. Hopefully I’ll get to talk to you
soon! Blessings!
