Beginning and End: An Image

The moon displayed its magnificence gained from the fallen sun by covering the land with a silver lining; a welcomed splendor for a sullen atmosphere surrounded us this night. We were headed to the house of friend and brother Honoré. A man of many talents; languages, teaching, ministering and administration, and holds a gentle yet, passionate spirit. As the academic dean, he is a major contributor to the functioning of UCBC. He was north of Beni in Nyakunde/Bunia area and just witnessed the passing of his father to diabetes (I’ve recently learned that diabetes is a very prevalent condition ). His family, including a brother that attends UCBC, had just been informed.

We arrived to find a number of students had already gathered at the home. We walked in to console Honoré’s wife and family. His brother greeted me with his usual joyful, gapped tooth smile. Later, he would occasionally break; even strength and desensitization accumulated as an ex-combatant cannot lessen the pain.

In the dim lantern light, we gathered in prayer and song led by students. The archipelago voices, absorbed in African rhythm, filled the room and then drifted through the surrounding mud-thatch houses before being carried to the heavens. After comforting her mother, Honoré’s 3-year old daughter Martha came crawling onto my lap. The innocence of a child, not comprehending what has taken place, yet knowing exactly what her mother needs. With curiosity, she examined my large, white hands in comparison to her own; always looking up to check on her mother’s condition.

Shortly after my return in January, I went to the house of AJ (the same student that held Bush in his grief). When I was away, AJ’s wife gave birth to a baby girl, Danielle on January 7, 2008, my birthday as well; instant connection here. I held her wrapped in blankets, as disturbed bats flew in and out of the room. What a gift…life, and the happiness it brings to a father, as indicated by the wide grin across AJ’s face.

Close encounters…with birth of life and the taking of it. As my head was bowed last week during the mourning of Bush’s mother, my mind drifted into thoughts on humanity…what separates us from all else. In the beginning and end, we distinctly see the image of God. The joy and beauty life brings and the suffering and pain in its passing. In between, we depart on journeys and adventures through metaphorical jungles, deserts, unexplored seas, and mountain peaks, that illuminate our creator and humanity. But, the purest portrayal of our image is found in the beginning and end.

I commented in an earlier entry, the youthful life that feeds Congo. I recently read commentary on G.K. Chesterton’s assertion that he learned more about life from the interaction of children, than the studies of philosophy. And whether its watching a short clip of my nephew laughing, countless joyful and curious children chasing me, the tranquility of a new born, or child’s ability to bring joy and comfort in a situation filled with sullen tension, I’m inclined to be equally fascinated. Innocence is yet to be tainted, and the absence of prejudice, discrimination, or judgment exhibits unconditional serenity.

And in death, our hearts are exposed to vulnerability. Pain that hurts so deep, we forget or maybe remember, what it means to live. And the true value of life is weighed. The event ignites our friends and families, the surrounding community, to revert back to our child-like behavior and hidden sense; relieving the hurt. Unconditional acts and emotion return. And as one views the empty shell, we acknowledge the peace that has transcended. A reminder of the humanity and holiness found in One who walked the earth in order to display His image from beginning to end.

We often forget the reaction of Jesus when Lazarus died. Despite the forthcoming resurrection, he was “deeply moved in spirit and troubled”. He wept.

As we walked away from our mother’s grave last week, I couldn’t stop thinking about the recent estimate of over 5 million lives taken from Congo, as a result of war, poverty and disease since 1996. And for each one…Jesus wept.

As I finish, my little 3-year old friend here is jamming to an array of foreign artists while his little paws pounce on my keys. As irritating it is, difficult to scold the little monster.