The heart of reconciliation

Community Center for urban refugees in Kampala

Rebecca writing this week: Ten years ago, in January 2009, Paul and I attended our first gathering of the Great Lakes Initiative (GLI), as we helped to host this very new movement in Burundi. This year, I attended the GLI Leadership Institute for the 7^th time and I am overflowing with gratitude that I have been able to be part of it for all these years.

The annual gathering brings together East African Christian leaders from many different walks of life, who are involved in peacebuilding. But what happens is quite unique. In most peace-building training sessions, the key question is: “how can I hone and develop my skills as someone involved in peace and conflict resolution? How can I do what I do better?”

 

The GLI begins with an alternative perspective:  Reconciliation is the mission of God. We are invited to join in God’s mission, as ambassadors of reconciliation. But ultimately, God will finish the work of reconciling all things. This perspective keeps the focus on the saving work of Jesus and gives us courage to continue in the hard work of helping to reveal God’s new creation. Otherwise, if it were all up to us, we would have every reason to give up.

GLI participants on Pilgrimage

With that as background, let me share a bit of my personal experience of being involved in the GLI Institute this year. As Paul wrote last week, we enjoyed a wonderful time of rest on the coast with my parents over New Years. When we got back to Arusha, I had two days of turn-around time to finish up my office work and prepare for the trip to Uganda. We had a couple of nice evenings with my parents back at home, playing games and watching a movie together. But then I had to say goodbye to my dad before I took off – the time together felt too short!!

Wilfred and Faith Mlay

I took a super-early morning flight to Kampala, Uganda and was so delighted to share that journey with a very precious couple from Tanzania, Wilfred and Faith Mlay. Wilfred has served as the GLI Ambassador for several years, heading up the board and giving direction to the movement; this was his retirement project, after leaving a top position in World Vision Africa. Wilfred describes himself as Joshua, and his wife, Faith, as Moses – as long as she was lifting her hands in prayer him, he found himself winning the battle. I’ve known them both for many years and I am thankful for good conversation every time our paths cross.

With Chartier and Acher, old friends

From the moment we arrived at the Institute venue, a Catholic seminary in the outskirts of Kampala, it never ceased to feel like a wonderful family reunion. Many Burundian, Rwandese, Kenyan and Congolese pastors and church leaders, whom I’ve known for years from our past work with MCC, have leadership roles in the GLI. In the past, I served on the GLI board with many of them and it’s hard to describe the waves of love and respect that come over me when I can interact with those dear people again. I even became reacquainted with a few faculty from Duke Divinity School (one of the GLI partners), whom I had first gotten to know when I served as worship facilitator at their Summer Institute on Reconciliation. I was so thrilled when I learned that finally a new executive director had been named to replace Wilfred, and allow him to really retire: Acher Niyonizigiye, an amazing young Burundian leader, who was our pastor when we lived in Bujumbura. After seeing him grow into his pastoral role those years ago, I know God will equip him for the challenging work ahead of him.

Saturday afternoon included some space for rest and prayer and a few hours of good bird-watching. But on Sunday morning, I needed to begin attending diligently to my task for the week, namely helping to facilitate worship for the 6 days of the Institute. Thankfully, I have a trusted co-worker in this, Josephine Munyeli; she and I have collaborated now 5 times in leading worship, and it has been a joy each time to see how our background and gifts can complement each other. 

Josephine Munyeli and I

The challenge of worship is that most of the time, we all choose to attend faith communities which speak the same language and have the same preferred worship style as ourselves. At the GLI, participants come from a wide variety of church traditions, ranging from Catholic to Pentecostal. We need to use both English and French as the common languages for people coming from this region (former Belgian or British colonies), but of course almost everyone has a different mother tongue as well. The musical styles preferred by Protestants from South Sudan are quite different from Congolese Catholics. It’s a beautiful challenge to try to help everyone come before God in worship, in a way that connects with their heart. At the beginning, we tell people – “be patient! At one moment, the worship may be speaking to your neighbor and you won’t feel comfortable. But at another moment, the worship will connect better with you.” This is what it is like to practice for heaven, when every nation and language and tribe will celebrate together before the throne of the Lamb.

As you can imagine, neither Josephine nor I have all the gifts and experience needed to lead everyone in worship. And so, the special challenge is to carefully plan a framework of worship services that connects with the theological reflection of each day, while still leaving space for people to come forward and offer their gifts in worship. It’s a combination of careful planning and spontaneity that I absolutely love! And this year, more than ever, we were just overflowing with people who were delighted to sing, to bring new songs to our attention, to play the keyboard, to read scripture or to pray. In addition, a number of plenary speakers cancelled their attendance at the last minute, one because the election unrest in Congo prevented any communication or travel. But the Holy Spirit prompted the right people to fill in and speak and we were richly blessed.

Dr. Colon-Emeric on
New Creation

The week began with deep reflection on our foundations: reconciliation is the mission of God. From the beginning, God made all things good, and as Christians, we already know the end of the story: God will reconcile all things – ALL things – to himself (Col 1:15-20). When we say yes to Christ, we become part of this new creation, and we are invited to become ambassadors of reconciliation. But if we want to really be reconcilers, we need to have the same motivation as our God. God took initiative and, with compassion, crossed the distance between himself and our unrepentant world. Our hearts also need to break, not just at the suffering of the innocent, but at the suffering of our enemies. Dr. Colon-Emeric, a Duke Professor from Latin America, challenged us with examples from his experience in another part of the world. Like Archbishop Oscar Romero, we read the vision of new creation in Isaiah 65, but then we work for tangible signs of new creation in the community around us. We understand that the church must share Christ’s message of reconciliation. Yet especially in contexts of great suffering and violence, it can be hard to see how God’s justice and God’s mercy go together and are part of one heart. What about justice for killers in South Sudan or rapists in Congo? Bringing justice and mercy together requires conversion from our human values to the new creation values. On Monday, we heard from a variety of witnesses about the situation in South Sudan, which has finally entered a tenuous, imperfect peace. We began to understand the need for purification of memory: not negating the past, but also not allowing the past to dictate the future God has in mind for us.

On Tuesday, we turned our eyes from the new heavens and the new earth to the question of what is going on around us. And when we look honestly at the situation in the world around us, we can’t help but cry out, “How long, O Lord?” Witnesses from four parts of DR Congo shared the anguish of their people, from senseless violence (“every weekend, people are being killed like goats”) and Ebola in Eastern Congo; to politically motivated unrest in Kasai, where 1.4 million people are displaced in what used to be the most peaceful region of Congo. Sometimes we are afraid to lament because we fear others will think we have no faith, or that we doubt God’s power; or we think God will punish us if we question his ways. Dr. Celestin Musekura from Rwanda shared deeply from his own experience of lamenting together with suffering and displaced people, and the healing that comes from honest and intimate conversation with God. We lament because we know this is not the way God wants things to be, and it is a tool to navigate pain and sorrow as we pray in hope that God will change things.

Mural by Burundian youth

The theme of the week was “Christian Leadership for reconciliation in contexts of forced displacement,” a timely focus in this time in world history when more people are displaced than ever before. On Wednesday morning, we took a pilgrimage to look for signs of hope. We visited a community center designed to support urban refugees in Kampala. Apparently, refugees are pouring into Uganda from almost all the surrounding countries, and some elect to remain in the city and try to earn a living. This center offers training courses and social support, including a three-month tailoring course, a workshop to make long-burning charcoal bricks and stoves, several handicrafts groups, and a day care to help single parents who need to work and don’t have other family support. 

charcoal bricks and stoves

A refugee drivers association teaches people English and the Ugandan rules of the road and helps them get valid Ugandan licenses, so they can work in the transport business. A thriving youth ministry helps young people recognize the gifts of their cultures and even make a living from them. We met Somali women who earn money doing henna and traditional dancing for weddings, as well as young men from Burundi who have formed a traditional drum troupe and are hired out almost every weekend for events.

crafts made by displaced people

Theologian and artist Jeremy Begbie helps us understand how lament and hope can co-exist: we hear two songs playing at the same time, one aggressive and unpleasant, and the other sweet and melodic. The first one never totally drowns out the second. We saw many signs of hope among the diverse gathering of refugees who have fled violence and left everything they know, even as they co-exist, encourage each other and mutually respect one another. In the evening, Faith Mlay explored the story of the burning bush. She noted that we are standing on holy ground when we investigate situations that seem to be burning destructively – and yet somehow, something remains that is not consumed. This is a miracle that calls us to draw near and notice how God is at work.

Marion and Acher, leaders to follow

Having considered all this theological background, the big question remains for us: how can we be the kind of leaders who really follow God’s heart as reconcilers? Dr. Musekura held up the example of Nehemiah, who was a leader of his people, even as a displaced person. He lamented deeply and repented on behalf of his people. Then he prayed for several months, and during that time, rather than growing bitter, he made a list of what he would ask for on behalf of his people, if ever he had the chance. In fear and trembling, he prayed for an opening with the king, and finally he had the chance to speak. He was afraid, but he still spoke up; sometimes for our people, hope looks like a leader who is willing to say yes. Hope looks like Queen Esther, who accepted that she might be in her position “for such a time as this.” We need leaders with a prophetic voice,  but too often church leaders are muted by a “bone in the mouth,” like watchdogs who are distracted from their duty by thieves (politicians) who toss out a choice piece of meat. The final big question involves our own hearts: how can we keep going when things look bleak? What is a spirituality that will carry us through the valley of the shadow with integrity? These are hard questions that each of us must wrestle with.

head table of celebration

In between all these sessions of theological reflection, we had meals together and time to catch up over tea breaks. I was so thankful for each good conversation I had during the week. I’ve written in the past about “Fractured Ubuntu,” the sense of a divided identity that one gets when one moves around too much. I felt this past week that many parts of my identity were put back together and restored.

On Wednesday evening, we enjoyed a magnificent celebration dinner for Wilfred and Faith Mlay – an occasion to celebrate all they have done for the community, and to allow Wilfred to officially retire as Ambassador Emeritus. We were exuberantly led through the evening by a brother from DR Congo, Jean-Serge Lumu. He brought out the best in the African spirit of singing and dancing and ululating. The food was wonderful party food, like pilau and skewers of barbequed pork. We had speeches of course, but they were warm and funny and wise, rather than boring. 

cake cutting and response

There was an enormous cake for the Mlay’s to cut, and when they were asked to respond with some words, they had only a few: “To God be the glory!” We ended the evening with a joyful, spontaneous dance party, singing, “I know who I am!” It was just a little foretaste of that banquet we will all enjoy one day at the wedding supper of the Lamb.

We wrapped up the week on Friday evening, and on Saturday morning I flew back to Arusha. I was able to have another two days with my mom before she left on Sunday evening. It was great to share about the week with her, and to hear about my family’s week. The kids had gone back to school on Tuesday, Paul was back in work, and my mom had spent several days training people on how to access digital resources for research. On Sunday afternoon, we loaded up my mom’s taxi, sent her off. We have just begun a second week of “normalcy,” and I’m grateful for the time today to reflect on all the rich blessings since the beginning of the year.

Putting my mom, Jean Sack, on the plane home