I know those of you reading this are far away. I know what that's like--to feel far away from the kind of suffering going on in Sudan, Central African Republic and elsewhere--and to not know how to engage. I know what it is like to ask yourself the question of whether it is appropriate to consume information about something knowing that real lives are affected and you probably will do little more than read the article and move on. I know that sometimes it is so much easier to click on a story about the latest diet, the biggest celebrity news, etc. But today, would you be willing to let your heart engage Rwanda, even for a few moments?
Here's a concept that helps me. It is a biblical concept and this quotation comes from a woman named Meg Wheatley, from her book Turning to One Another:
"A few years ago I was introduced to the practice of bearing witness'...a simple practice of being brave enough to sit with human suffering, to acknowledge it for what it is, to not flee from it. It doesn't make the suffering go away, although it sometimes changes the experience of pain and grief. When I bear witness, I turn toward another and am willing to let their experience enter my own heart." (86)
Reading isn't nothing. Giving yourself 20 minutes to let your heart go out to true stories of grief and hope isn't nothing.
So, please. Embrace the divine image-bearing dignity of letting your heart move because of something that has deeply wounded so many people who are still alive today.
I'll provide you with one little picture here, but please go to:
www.kwibuka.rw/shortfilm, NYtimes.com, bbc.com, etc. and read/watch/engage.
This summary was written by my friend, a political officer here in Rwanda:
On April 6, 1994, an airplane carrying the Rwandan president was shot down over Kigali. On April 7 - twenty years ago today - extremist Hutu government and militia leaders began executing one of the fastest and most devastating genocides in all of history, killing one million Tutsis and moderate Hutus, or about 20% of the country's population, in just one hundred days.
Unlike genocides perpetrated primarily by governments, Rwanda's leaders twenty years ago called upon Hutu citizens to slaughter their Tutsi neighbors, friends, and family members. Many who opposed or resisted the call to genocide were also killed, regardless of their ethnic group.
On April 10, ten thousand Tutsis from Nyamata gathered in the Catholic church, seeking safe haven from the wave of death engulfing their village. The church would become their final resting place, as the interhamwe militia and neighbors breached the fortified walls, first throwing grenades into the sanctuary and then entering to kill survivors with machetes, spears, and blunt force. Babies and children were not spared, as the attackers smashed them against the wall of the sanctuary.
Today, Nyamata church and the 45,000 people buried there remind us of the horror of genocide which began 20 years ago and continued for 100 days, ending when the Rwandan Patriotic Front defeated the forces of the former government, military, and genocidal militias.
Today, Rwanda's people have not allowed themselves to be defined by their past, building a nation that is a beacon of peace, stability, and growth in an often troubled region. Rather than seek vengeance for the crimes committed during the genocide, Rwanda has undertaken a process of national reconciliation, seeking to set aside the ethnic labels that divided the country in order to move forward as one nation and one people.
In closing (this is me again), because looking at these images, thinking about these true stories can and should be so jarring, emotional, too much to bear, I want to share with you why I believe in Jesus in the midst of such suffering, sadness and pain. John Stott summarizes it in a way that feels most appropriate today (and as we approach Good Friday and Easter):
"I could never myself believe in God, if it were not for the cross. In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered many Buddhist temples in different Asian countries and stood respectfully before the statue of the Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile playing round his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have had to turn away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in Godforsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us. Our sufferings become more manageable in the light of his. There is still a question mark against human suffering, but over it we boldly stamp another mark, the cross that symbolizes divine suffering. 'The cross of Christ ... is God’s only self-justification in such a world” as ours....' 'The other gods were strong; but thou wast weak; they rode, but thou didst stumble to a throne; But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak, And not a god has wounds, but thou alone.”
I prayed and cried out much of Psalm 3 yesterday, wondering about why this testimony (in Psalm 3) wasn't true for the thousands of kids (just like my Lucy, Isaiah and Micah) killed in the genocide. Crying out, "Why Oh LORD didn't you shield them, why didn't you rescue them? Some of their last words were "Help me God!" WHY, LORD?!"
Psalm 3:
O LORD, how many are my foes! How many rise up against me! Many are saying of me, "God will not deliver him." But you are a shield around me, O LORD; you bestow glory on me and lift up my head. To the LORD I cry aloud, and he answers me from his holy hill. I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the LORD sustains me. I will not fear the tens of thousands drawn up against me on every side. Arise, O LORD! Deliver me, O my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked. From the LORD comes deliverance. May your blessing be on your people."
And yet in the midst of my crying out WHY?! from me (which, I don't think is a problem to God, by the way),
God's answer from His holy hill was to send his Son to die, to turn his face and ear away from Him on the cross and to pour out his wrath on him instead of us, thus satisfying the punishment for sin and his holiness (taking out his wrath on His son) and being merciful to us (those who "hide" in Jesus receive credit for his life and death). Without the cross I have no hope, no joy as I engage stories like the Rwandan Genocide. Without the cross I probably would stand at the genocide memorial with (arrogant and wrong) accusatory glances to the heavens.
But because He died for us and because He lives, I will follow Him wherever He leads. And I'll do it with joy and great hope, knowing that what He purchased for us with his blood will one day come to fruition and every tear of every genocide victim and every shameful, repentant tear of every genocide perpetrator and every tear of those who witness will one day be wiped away.
from Isaiah 65:
"Behold I will create new heavens and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I will create, for I will create Jerusalem to be a delight and its people a joy. I will rejoice over Jerusalem and take delight in my people; the sound of weeping and crying will be heard in it no more. Never again will there be an infant who lives but a few days, or an old man who does not live out his days...They will build houses and dwell in them; they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit...
from Revelation 5:
"And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming in a loud voice, "Who is worthy to break the seals and open the scroll? But no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth could open the scroll or even look inside it. I wept and wept because no one was found who was worthy to open the scroll or look inside.
THEN! one of the elders said to me, "Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals."
Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing in the center of the throne, encircled by the four living creatures and the elders...And they sang a new song:
"You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, because you were slain, and with your blood you purchased men for God from every tribe and language and people and nation. You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God and they will reign on the earth."
Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. In a loud voice they sang: "Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise!"
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