Photo by Eric Pederson (EP)
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Prayer
“Some people think that we alter God’s will and plans through prayer, but it is actually our hearts that are changed. The unfulfilled potential of our soul is ever striving to reach beyond the limitations of this imperfect life.”
“The essence of prayer does not consist in asking for things, but in opening one’s heart to God. It is the desire for God himself, the giver of life. Prayer is communion with God, receiving him who is the giver of all good gifts, living a life of fellowship with him. It is breathing and living in God.”
Excerpts taken from Sadhu Sundar Singh – Essential Writings
Growing in such a culture as ours, prayer may lose its life. It may also be spiritualized, in a sense that creates false understanding of its purpose and it’s spiritual mode or influence. Yet, it is as vital as the air we breathe. In a world that is already disconnected from what God intended, it is our sustenance. Especially, during the times we cannot understand or perceive our Creator and His ways.
Last week, after we returned home from celebrating a 3-0 win over another local University in a soccer tournament, I received an SMS message. The wife and unborn child of one of our students had unexpectedly died. A few of us drove silently in the night to a clinic where he himself, was recovering from appendix surgery. We consoled him in his grief, and the our Congolese friends present, lifted their voices in perfected a cappella songs and prayer. He lost his lifetime companion and unborn child, carries a burden of concern for the well being of his children.
We gathered the following day near his home for the funeral. A production of messages, songs, and prayer. Again, the UCBC community surrounded their hurting brother, assisting with digging his wife and child’s resting place at the local Catholic mission grounds.
On the way to the mourning, are front tire popped with earsplitting sound. Not that a flat tire is uncommon, usually at least once a week. But, in this moment, my inner being reached that point of dissatisfaction with the situation…with God. Though unseen by all, the rest of the day it continued to irritate. I remained unnerved when I met with our student for words of encouragement, understanding, and prayer, but inside remained quietly distant throughout the day.
I confess, it is difficult for me to bend my knees and bow my head, but throughout my experience here I’ve learned what that truly means, and it’s significance to the life of a believer. Perhaps it is the culture and context here that has initiated meditation in the form of prayer. Maybe it’s just easier to pray with authenticity, not a traditional act done only around a table or in the presence of group. For, I find myself breathing God most, in the solitude of a room with only my silent echoes.
One thing will always remain constant, without prayer I would be innate, unable to find understanding or comfort, unable to give, unable to love. Trapped in bitterness, frustration, and my own self. Unable to adapt. Peace, would be distant. And the lungs of my heart, mind, soul, and whatever else makes us who we are, would not have the strength to breathe.
The past couple months we have witnessed a number of tragedies and challenges. So I ask for prayers for the following...
The student who lost his wife and unborn child. Pray for comfort and rest. Pray for the family as they make arrangements to help with the care of the children. Pray for the student as he grieves the loss of his life companion.
Another student, a Mama, lost her unborn child three weeks before the expected due date. She has recovered well, but please pray for continued strength and comfort.
The student who was hit by the truck is still recovering in the hospital. She continues to improve daily. The doctors are expected to conduct two graft operations. Please pray for guidance for the doctors and continued healing of her arm.
One of our volunteers and friend was hospitalized a week and a half ago due to malaria and dehydration. She is more or less fully recovered, but still feels a little tired and sore. Please pray for her continued strength and continued protection.
“The essence of prayer does not consist in asking for things, but in opening one’s heart to God. It is the desire for God himself, the giver of life. Prayer is communion with God, receiving him who is the giver of all good gifts, living a life of fellowship with him. It is breathing and living in God.”
Excerpts taken from Sadhu Sundar Singh – Essential Writings
Growing in such a culture as ours, prayer may lose its life. It may also be spiritualized, in a sense that creates false understanding of its purpose and it’s spiritual mode or influence. Yet, it is as vital as the air we breathe. In a world that is already disconnected from what God intended, it is our sustenance. Especially, during the times we cannot understand or perceive our Creator and His ways.
Last week, after we returned home from celebrating a 3-0 win over another local University in a soccer tournament, I received an SMS message. The wife and unborn child of one of our students had unexpectedly died. A few of us drove silently in the night to a clinic where he himself, was recovering from appendix surgery. We consoled him in his grief, and the our Congolese friends present, lifted their voices in perfected a cappella songs and prayer. He lost his lifetime companion and unborn child, carries a burden of concern for the well being of his children.
We gathered the following day near his home for the funeral. A production of messages, songs, and prayer. Again, the UCBC community surrounded their hurting brother, assisting with digging his wife and child’s resting place at the local Catholic mission grounds.
On the way to the mourning, are front tire popped with earsplitting sound. Not that a flat tire is uncommon, usually at least once a week. But, in this moment, my inner being reached that point of dissatisfaction with the situation…with God. Though unseen by all, the rest of the day it continued to irritate. I remained unnerved when I met with our student for words of encouragement, understanding, and prayer, but inside remained quietly distant throughout the day.
I confess, it is difficult for me to bend my knees and bow my head, but throughout my experience here I’ve learned what that truly means, and it’s significance to the life of a believer. Perhaps it is the culture and context here that has initiated meditation in the form of prayer. Maybe it’s just easier to pray with authenticity, not a traditional act done only around a table or in the presence of group. For, I find myself breathing God most, in the solitude of a room with only my silent echoes.
One thing will always remain constant, without prayer I would be innate, unable to find understanding or comfort, unable to give, unable to love. Trapped in bitterness, frustration, and my own self. Unable to adapt. Peace, would be distant. And the lungs of my heart, mind, soul, and whatever else makes us who we are, would not have the strength to breathe.
The past couple months we have witnessed a number of tragedies and challenges. So I ask for prayers for the following...
The student who lost his wife and unborn child. Pray for comfort and rest. Pray for the family as they make arrangements to help with the care of the children. Pray for the student as he grieves the loss of his life companion.
Another student, a Mama, lost her unborn child three weeks before the expected due date. She has recovered well, but please pray for continued strength and comfort.
The student who was hit by the truck is still recovering in the hospital. She continues to improve daily. The doctors are expected to conduct two graft operations. Please pray for guidance for the doctors and continued healing of her arm.
One of our volunteers and friend was hospitalized a week and a half ago due to malaria and dehydration. She is more or less fully recovered, but still feels a little tired and sore. Please pray for her continued strength and continued protection.
Better Than Dusk
Vast storm clouds stand still in the frame, as silhouettes in the vibrant, yet placid sunsets. An occasional beam of fire would create an intermittent display of nature’s fury, but tranquility remains stoic. I watched in contentment as my brother, Grace (now Mama, as the joke continues in the house…I’m the Papa) brought back my attention to the simple foundation of life and nature, as that of which signifies creation. We laughed amidst my broken, but improving French…amazed how rain can fall a quarter (neighborhood) away, yet where we stand is untouched.
Every evening there is a period of final daylight that hypnotizes my visual senses. The sun bounces off clouds in a coordinated show of color that also magnifies formation. The display renders a change in atmosphere, a change in light, mystical in character and foreign to tired eyes. Some days it stops me in the middle of playing soccer or other days it makes me drop whatever I’m doing and captures my stare. Where I come from, summer evenings are long, characterizing the term “dusk”. But, here at .5 degrees north of the equator, before the fireflies begin to dance their night time jubilee, there is a moment that is better than dusk.
Every evening there is a period of final daylight that hypnotizes my visual senses. The sun bounces off clouds in a coordinated show of color that also magnifies formation. The display renders a change in atmosphere, a change in light, mystical in character and foreign to tired eyes. Some days it stops me in the middle of playing soccer or other days it makes me drop whatever I’m doing and captures my stare. Where I come from, summer evenings are long, characterizing the term “dusk”. But, here at .5 degrees north of the equator, before the fireflies begin to dance their night time jubilee, there is a moment that is better than dusk.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Land Of Promise
In March, I took a couple trips to Butembo, but have been late in posting. The following reflection is a blend of both excursions.
Unlike the Mambasa voyage, my ass welcomed the soft seat of a Toyota Corolla as we headed south. The commonly used road winded and climbed through the hills surrounding Beni. Perhaps lacking the uncertainty and adventure of a motorbike ride through the Ituri forest, I rested my head on the back seat and admired the culture and land. Banana trees and bamboo blanketed the hillsides leaving room for savannah and fields that helps sustain the local livelihood. Passing through villages, my mind surpassed a perception of poverty and strife, but rested in admiration of the simplicity of life. Maybe ignorance entangled with envy.
The 8th of March was “Women’s Day”, a day that celebrates the rights of women and includes parades, dancing, and feasts. A significant day providing hope, proclaiming justice, and encouraging respect for our sisters. On our way to Butembo, colorful “mamas” marched along the roadside singing and cheering. The women of UCBC also gathered for the celebration. It rained hard the day before and in the morning, turning the road into a slick and muddy passage. Women bathed their babies in the rushing streams, washed clothes, dishes, and a variety of household items. Resilient travelers continued pushing their bikes weighted with market goods and supplies of various kinds. Some waited under rusted roof tops and tree canopies for the rain to cease and the fierce, but welcomed, sunlight to dry their soaked clothes. As we neared Butembo, large monuments, brick factories, smoked. Large and white wedding-bell orchids lined the river’s bank, disclosing the water passage. How I admire this land.
Butembo is a bustling business town, a bit more developed and modern than Beni, but still exhibiting a collision of old and new. A European-like market and hundreds of boutiques lined its congested roads. One trip we wandered and located supplies for construction at the University, another trip was spent with a friend and board member. Our friend and supporter generously gave a Thanksgiving like meal and rich conversation.
On our way back to Beni, we made two stops. One was at a farm to look at cows…oh yeah, just like “Sconi”. I enjoyed inhaling the smells of cow manure and hide that I’d often catch headed to Minneapolis or Northern Wisconsin. Our friend Josh was visiting from Goma and was assisting us with agriculture ideas at the University. Nestled in the emerald hills, the farm and land resembled the infamous “shire”; peaceful, uncorrupted, and bountiful.
As we drew near to Beni, the road follows the hillside. The Ruwenzori Mountains remained tall and unchanging in the distance. A couple 100 meters down laid a look out point. The sight was unforgettable, especially as the sun slowly descended beyond the horizon. Mystical hills outlined the valley in which Beni rested. Rivers and streams below were tenderly exposed by an angelic, ashen mist. The evening came quickly, but my eyes captured enough of the serenity to relay a whisper to my ears… “ A land of promise.”
Unlike the Mambasa voyage, my ass welcomed the soft seat of a Toyota Corolla as we headed south. The commonly used road winded and climbed through the hills surrounding Beni. Perhaps lacking the uncertainty and adventure of a motorbike ride through the Ituri forest, I rested my head on the back seat and admired the culture and land. Banana trees and bamboo blanketed the hillsides leaving room for savannah and fields that helps sustain the local livelihood. Passing through villages, my mind surpassed a perception of poverty and strife, but rested in admiration of the simplicity of life. Maybe ignorance entangled with envy.
The 8th of March was “Women’s Day”, a day that celebrates the rights of women and includes parades, dancing, and feasts. A significant day providing hope, proclaiming justice, and encouraging respect for our sisters. On our way to Butembo, colorful “mamas” marched along the roadside singing and cheering. The women of UCBC also gathered for the celebration. It rained hard the day before and in the morning, turning the road into a slick and muddy passage. Women bathed their babies in the rushing streams, washed clothes, dishes, and a variety of household items. Resilient travelers continued pushing their bikes weighted with market goods and supplies of various kinds. Some waited under rusted roof tops and tree canopies for the rain to cease and the fierce, but welcomed, sunlight to dry their soaked clothes. As we neared Butembo, large monuments, brick factories, smoked. Large and white wedding-bell orchids lined the river’s bank, disclosing the water passage. How I admire this land.
Butembo is a bustling business town, a bit more developed and modern than Beni, but still exhibiting a collision of old and new. A European-like market and hundreds of boutiques lined its congested roads. One trip we wandered and located supplies for construction at the University, another trip was spent with a friend and board member. Our friend and supporter generously gave a Thanksgiving like meal and rich conversation.
On our way back to Beni, we made two stops. One was at a farm to look at cows…oh yeah, just like “Sconi”. I enjoyed inhaling the smells of cow manure and hide that I’d often catch headed to Minneapolis or Northern Wisconsin. Our friend Josh was visiting from Goma and was assisting us with agriculture ideas at the University. Nestled in the emerald hills, the farm and land resembled the infamous “shire”; peaceful, uncorrupted, and bountiful.
As we drew near to Beni, the road follows the hillside. The Ruwenzori Mountains remained tall and unchanging in the distance. A couple 100 meters down laid a look out point. The sight was unforgettable, especially as the sun slowly descended beyond the horizon. Mystical hills outlined the valley in which Beni rested. Rivers and streams below were tenderly exposed by an angelic, ashen mist. The evening came quickly, but my eyes captured enough of the serenity to relay a whisper to my ears… “ A land of promise.”
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