A Life of Paradox

Recently I feel like I'm riding a pendulum as I experience the many paradoxes of life in the DRC.  Yesterday I went to the Rwampara IDP camp. 

          (This is actually the ISP IDP camp, but they look very similar- mud huts with tarp roofs)

 

I found Tony, our nurse, consulting patients, and giving medications (all at no cost to the patient thanks to you all!).  He was assessing for malnutrition and evaluating a child’s fever and cough.  He is on the front lines and is literally saving lives every day as he gives treatment before sicknesses worsen.

 

 

As I pulled out of the camp to visit our patients in the hospital, I heard sorrowful singing.  My heart pulled me to join in.  Tony had just told me of two deaths of children from the camp in the last 24 hours.  As I entered the darkness of the mud and stick building, and my eyes adjusted, I saw women on benches lifting their voices in lament, and then two mattresses on the ground with weeping mothers, aunts and grandmothers surrounding bundled, still, small bodies. They mourned and lamented through song, and I joined in, knowing that God can handle our tears, questions, anger and pain. We sang:

 

Are you tired, is your heart heavy?

  Tell Jesus, tell Jesus; 

Has all the joy in your life ended?

  Only go tell Jesus.

 

Tell Jesus, tell Jesus, 

  He is a true friend; 

There is no other like him.

  Only go tell Jesus.

 

These two young lives were lost because of numerous levels of brokenness on this side of heaven.  The 3 year old’s mom had finally brought him to see Tony after the clinic had closed for the day.  Thankfully Tony was called and was able to initiate a transfer to the local health center.  Upon arriving there, the nurses noticed his extreme paleness, and directly transferred him to the hospital.  His blood level (hemoglobin) was critically low and a blood transfusion was given.  But it was too late.  Why hadn’t the mother come to get care sooner?  Our clinic and medications are free.  We later heard that his mother and father have been at odds and their conflict has resulted in neglect of the needs of their children, leading to the death of this child.  The other child, about 12 years old, presented to the clinic with full-body swelling. Tony directly referred him to the health center, but about a day later heard that he had passed without ever making it to the health center.  Instead of his parents taking him to life saving (free!) care, they found and paid for a local traditional healer to treat him.  There are so many things to lament over in these stories, and nothing that wraps them in a pretty bow and makes sense of these deaths.  ‘Only go tell Jesus’, Come Lord Jesus! Our hearts long for the day of no more pain and no more tears.  We still rejoice that so many are being healed, but that doesn’t take away the sting of these children’s deaths.

Only two days before, I was at a Congo Impact (CI) student gathering. CI is an amazing organization I’ve loved working with for the last 4-5 years as a member of their Congolese board (congoimpact.org).  They started 10 years ago (watch their 10 year celebration video: https://youtu.be/3Q4NuzoAshQ!) and have sent many young, talented, Congolese youth to university with the goal of these students returning to their villages to participate in church-led community development.  Until this year, all students have come from Nyankunde, and all board members have been from Nyankunde and one tribe.  Last year we felt God calling us to add reconciliation as a value.  Miraculously, the Congolese board voted unanimously to extend scholarships to two neighboring villages, each representing a different tribe. Nyankunde’s tribe (the Bira) has been in conflict with both of these other tribes (the Hema and Wangiti) over the last 4-5 years.  What a peace offering!  Not only that, but those from Nyankunde suggested we give twice as many scholarships to the other villages this year.  At our gathering this Sunday, the new students, representing the two new tribes, sat proudly among us.  We also have just given our second scholarship to students who are living in camps because they've been displaced by war.  This is where change and peace is birthed, as we break bread together, live side by side, share our burdens and pray together.  The joy in the room was palpable, overflowing.  We saw and felt what was happening.  No matter what is going on in the village from which we come, we are now one family, and we can make different choices moving forward.  The choice to love one another no matter tribe and background.  The choice to lay down our life for our friend, no matter where he or she comes from. 

We sang this song to open our time together:

 

God knows well, that which feels so heavy,

the things that hurt you, and trouble you every day.

He knows your needs, your fears about tomorrow;

With our God, you know everything will be fine.

Thus the paradox.  Two deaths of children displaced by war.  Yet, hope for the future as nine new university students, from different tribes and regions rub shoulders, and learn what it means to intentionally seek a future of true peace and unity.  One day, all who are displaced by war in the camps will return home, and they will have leaders that have been trained in godly, servant leadership.  One day the militias of the local tribes will decide to lay down their arms, and they will have indigenous leaders to lead them toward repentance and peace.  One day………may that day not tarry.