Righting the wrongs and bringing us home: Advent week 3

 From the 700 year old prophecies of Isaiah to the birth-night proclamations of angels, "do not be afraid" seems to be one of the primary messages we need to hear. Given smouldering lethal virae and intractable conflicts and sorrowful losses all around us, it DOES seem to be a message that bears repeating. Along with, do not give up. It's been one of those stretches so far in December where the world weighs heavily.

But what strikes me most about these fear-not messages is that I want the dependent phrase to be a reassuring explanation of "don't be afraid because nothing bad will happen, this won't hurt, you won't suffer, you're safe".  But almost every time, in the subsequent phrase the only reassurance given is "for I am with you, you are mine, I'm in this story."

We need to hear that.

Our team is studying Isaiah, and a major theme is that God's presence is a reckoning, a judgement, a righting of all that is wrong. That's what Mary celebrated in her magnificat, the poem declaring that her child would actively topple the powers that be, the oppressive system that marred their lives. Which Isaiah points to too: the blind will see, the tears will be dried, death will be no more (chapter 35 for instance). A deep change in the universe that results in some immediate visible evidences but also sets in motion a transformation yet to be seen. Some of that happened in communities in occupied Palestine during Jesus' life, as a result of his presence. I know that God passionately wants to heal the world but from my human perspective, I have to imagine that Jesus in the flesh personally threatened by Herod's soldiers, personally fleeing from danger to Egypt, personally working to feed the family, personally asked by the blind and lame to fix their problems, must have felt compelled on a new level. After Lazarus died, he wept. There's no substitute for incarnation in seeing the wrong and feeling it and personally wanting to make it right, which is the essence of our chosen life. Many organisations send money, send experts for a week or a month, establish parameters for a project. And we see the good of those things, this week for instance the way that has driven maternal and neonatal death reviews that generates data and awareness. But being personally present, knowing the particular pregnant mother and her dreams and fears because we live here, that's the Serge path that we walk . . . 

Which to be honest has been a doozy this December. 

To embrace the value of reckoning, you have to be immersed in the reality of not-right, to live at the unraveling fray. In the last few hours, an acquaintance whose wife died of a chronic terminal disease, a friend we've worked with closely now weeping because her daughter was not promoted to the next class of the school she wants to attend in spite of passing grades (everyone did so well that her decent results still put her near the bottom) leaving this family with few options, another very old friend here with a major financial ask for his kid's educational support, another with a devastating eye injury from a fight that broke out at a burial, another being chased off the family land.  All people we've known for years, decades even. It's been a couple of weeks of pummelling sorrows. They sound hard when typed out; knowing the people and confronting the wrongs face to face is even heavier. And our little dog, Nyota, who followed us on a run six years ago as a lost puppy in Kenya, died Sunday night. She'd been dwindling from causes unknown, and didn't respond to treatments the local vet and we all tried. Minor compared to the human consequences of disintegrating creation, but a grief nonetheless. And as leaders, we have also had to carry the hard choices of balancing budgets, determining salaries, anticipating taxes, wrestling through murky systems, deciding on limits that disappoint and hurt people we care about. And the heft of all the above is happening within a few miles, so when added to the hard choices and sacrifices of our entire Area of workers in Serge ... we feel our powerlessness to fix just about anything.

Budget Meeting days at CSB, agonising on how to remain accessible to the poor and just to our staff.

Final Sunday with just Senior Six (A level completing students) sharing testimonies and worship.

Departing students post-last-exam this week

Lots of end-of-year contract, report, analysis, planning time in the World Harvest Uganda office with John.

About a week ago, Lindi (on log table) and Nyota (on floor) keeping my company during my morning Bible reading and prayer time. They have been a faithful consistent presence. 

A few days before she died, Nyota was not in pain but we wept many times over her.

Our mission kids wrote us the sweetest notes about Nyota. It meant a lot.

I was the "mystery reader" for 1rst and 2nd grade at Rwenzori Mission School this week.

 Two above phots are the last day of RMS, yesterday, celebrating Christmas spirit but getting work wrapped up too. We still need a classroom assistant for February to May 2023 and a new teacher to join by August.. . . (if you have any Christmas wishes to spare throw that one in for us).

Advent in Bundibugyo makes the longing for the wrongs to be put right starkly center-stage. Every hard story makes that longing sharper, and the proximity and duration of living in the mess shatters any illusion that it's a bit removed or that it's solvable by us. We need the Messiah to finish what He started, to lay waste to evil . . .  and to transform the wasteland into a garden.

Because the reckoning is just the beginning of the promised work. The all-things-new that we wait for is actually a homecoming. The imagery of the highway in Isaiah 35 implies it is going somewhere. It is going home. Advent leads to Christmas. The wrongs put right are not just a means of making the world more orderly, it's a process of making the world more homey. Redeeming the creation--including us--into a place of beauty and thriving. I think that's what twinkle lights and greenery and colourful ornaments preview. A home we are invited to return to that is where we truly want to live.

Home is a complex concept for many of us, straddling places and interlocking circles of families, always leaving something out until the final promises of Revelation 21 come true. As hard and sad as the last two weeks have been, they also make the promise of home one that we want to draw people into here and now, and one that we want to cling to for ourselves. Only one of our five can come home to Bundi this Christmas, but we can't wait to pick him up in less than 48 hours now at the airport. And this week I found my heart deeply thankful that the other four could be together, which truly seemed more comforting and important than any more of them coming here. Also super thankful that both of our sisters manage once again to enfold our moms into their family celebrations, since we can't this year. And that we can keep our hearts and doors open to team family who miss theirs. 

Wrongs made right, and the road to home. These are two of the lenses for understanding the Christmas story, given by Isaiah, celebrated in the Gospels, and treasured here in 21rst century East/Central Africa.

This is 15 years ago, just before Dr. Jonah died of Ebola on Dec 4 2007. Another wrong that we long to see made right, the end of Ebola and the restoration of his family and justice and mercy in Bundibugyo.