Christmas Eve Eve . . .since the 24th and 25th will both have major church services, and today is market day, it feels like we are fully into Christmas. "Webhale Bhilo Bhikulu!" we greeted this morning on our sunrise walk. Literally, thank you for the valuable/important/old/big days. In this community, people feel a sense of gratefulness and accomplishment for living through another year. The New Year's greeting is "Webhale Kwiko", thanks for reaching, making it, arriving. As the light faded in to the cloud-covered rainforest that is Bundibugyo, we passed women sweeping any twigs and leaves from the smooth dirt compounds in front of their homes, lines of kids carrying water or firewood, adults washing clothes or tending fires to prepare for cooking (and sadly a few tipsy men still reaching home from a night of drinking). A few hours later we needed a couple of things at the market, which was a chaotic mass of boda (motorcyle) taxis and last minute preparations. And now as I cook and clean and prepare, I can hear more traffic in five minutes than used to pass in a month. The sense of bustle and anticipation is palpable.
But it all occurs in the context of a place where the rubble of a broken world still longs for redemption to break in more brightly. This morning was the second time in two weeks that one of us has found a car window smashed from thieves who managed enter the fenced compound in the dark, searching for anything they can grab. Yesterday evening we visited our two nearest neighbours whose lovely welcoming spirit shone even though we found one grandmother quite ill. We've been harassed this week by a man who reported Scott to the police for taking a picture of his business sign (so we'd have the phone number!), just a person angling to make up an offence that he could "sue" us for. All while still reworking budgets that suffered from our own losses due to embezzlement, keeping in close touch with our DRC team during disorganised and protested elections (but thankfully no violence), all our Ugandan team mates as the ADF attacked a village about 50km south, and all our teams facing their own struggles. This world we live in has little veneer to create the illusion of glory. And in the world of Gaza, pictured above in a side-by-side painting of Mary and photo of a Palestinian woman in 2023, the suffering is almost unimaginable.
But that painting and photo capture Christmas exactly. A baby has been born who incarnates hope, who has entered into the very debris of our lives with the power and love to crush evil. Mary didn't get to see the final restoration of all things, and niether do we, yet. Like her we are asked to participate on faith. To open our lives to God who is in the process of making all things new, while those things still apparently teeter on the edge of disaster.
From Alea Peister on Biola Advent two days ago:
"In Advent we take four weeks to remember how we, like Mary, live in a world that is ill. It is broken down and violent. It is a place where people are isolated from each other and God. It is a world where we seem to always choose the wrong thing. It is a world that is dying. And we are, like it or not, participants in its death.
As we do so, we find – like Mary – that God visits us and asks: Will you let me dwell in you and remake you? Will you let me burn up the chaff within you and restore the wheat? Will you become the place where I reside, become yourself my throne and temple? (1 Cor. 6:19-20)
We cannot possibly know what our assent will lead to. We can hope for specific outcomes – but that is, in the end, not the point. Our task is simply to become a residence for the life of Christ, a doorway through which he will make his love known to the world. When God visits and asks if we will say yes, we find life can have no other eventuality than our total, simple, and grateful assent.
Behold, we say with the Theotokos. I am the handmaid of the Lord. Be it unto me according to thy word."
That captures life in the ruins of creation pretty well. We are part of the problem, and we suffer the impact of much of what was already broken before we added to the mess. But by grace we accept the calling to become a doorway of Heaven, a place where others can glimpse the feast of goodness to which we are invited, and where God can reach through to feed the hungry and comfort the weary.
1 comment:
So thankful to have read this…appreciate your gift of time and truth.
Post a Comment