Shifting Perceptions

“…and my eyes no longer gaze the same on the face of the world.”
— Jean Hatzfeld (Machete Season: The Killers in Rwanda Speak)

Lately I have been thinking about the possible endeavour that Christy and I are wading into. At the very least, we are committed to interacting on a friendship level with immigrants and refugees of a different culture, language, skin colour, and history than us (on their turf and with their leading). At the most, we might be looking at the beginning of long-term and intricate involvement with a population that has experienced one of the most profoundly violent and tragic histories of recent years. Whatever level this involvement of ours ends up being, I can’t help but think that, like the writer of the above quote, our worldview is in the process of being shattered. Already, in the very brief conversations and research that I have done in preparation of my upcoming seminar with Rwandans in Toronto, I have been exposed to a reality and a life that I cannot even scarcely imagine. The sheer numbers alone (almost 1 million killed in 100 days) are overwhelming, while the method of the madness (mainly machete) lies beyond my most terrible nightmares. The people I will be speaking with, interacting with…these people SAW this. Their loved ones were lost in this. I cannot fathom this, yet we are walking into it, willingly, not really sure that our knowledge or skills are enough to make a difference, yet believing that we are not walking into this alone.

When I was a teen, I heard a speaker (Bart Campolo, actually) say something along the lines of “When you truly minister to people, you will get dirty”…he was meaning that the pain of the stories of people we endeavour to love WILL affect us, if we are connecting with them authentically and truly loving them as Christ is calling us. Jesus Himself wept over Lazarus’ tomb as an example: grief consumed our Lord, even for a moment, as He witnessed the scene of loss and death. The Apostle Paul wrote openly about his grief and anxiety over the churches he ministered to. I believe this concept that Campolo talked about: it makes sense to me. We don’t want to be ministers who work through an ivory-tower sort of attitude. Now, we can’t pretend to EVER know the circumstances that our Rwandan friends have gone through: there will always be an ‘us’ and ‘them’, and I think that is healthy and appropriate and honouring to all of us. But, if we are to love with the love that the Holy Spirit fills us with, we will be affected by the stories we hear. We will be affected as we land in Kigali this December, as we walk on the streets where not too long ago darkness, evil and chaos reigned. I can’t predict for sure HOW we will be affected, but already I feel it: the way I think about Africa, and the world in general, is in flux. I can only trust, in the end, that, in the midst of grieving with our African friends the terror they have faced and continue to re-experience, the Lord will guide and sustain our hearts to see and love others the way He wants us to.