Two weeks ago (see post below) we were in the storm, at night, tossed by waves and about to capsize, wondering how to get 180 people to a retreat in a country descending into protest-met-by-violent-suppression, wondering how to help our team leader from Congo who was dangerously ill with a severe post-influenza pneumonia needing medical evacuation, juggling some needs of other people we supervise going through trial and crisis, trying to support and connect with family at home after my nephew had a near-fatal motorcycle accident, all in the context of our newly pared-to-three Bundibugyo team bearing the weight of water and Christ School and nutrition and life. In that rocking chaos, we turned to Jesus with the same questions of the disciples long ago, are you awake? Do you care? And we asked you to pray.
You did, and Jesus was with us.
The retreat was rich and full, Anna was discharged from the hospital yesterday, and my nephew is on his long road to recovery . . . we are grateful for all of that. But the image that came to me today is not a smooth lake with gentle sunshine, far from it. Rather, a boat in a current that is the Spirit moving us into the veiled future, still asking for faith, still gripping the sides, out of the storm but into the stream.
Our speaker Doug McKelvey, author of the Every Moment Holy series of liturgies for daily life, spoke of hope in the midst of grief. He acknowledged the weakness, incompletion, disappointment, struggle, and sorrow of our journey, and the resistance we meet when trying to bring God's good to a broken world. And he did so in his poetic, articulate and scriptural way. . . . all the while pointing us to truth, that this is ultimately not our story but God's, that through the scars He is redeeming all into beauty. That our limited resources are a bowl into which He pours the wine of transformation. That we are shaped not by our past mistakes, but by the future glory God is creating out of all of us. That we are loved.
The four mornings of teaching where hopeful and real. And accompanied by community worship, personal individual reflection time, team by team sharing, and then re-shuffling the deck to meet in small groups and pray. The four afternoons were free for community-building at the pool and ocean, and the evenings drew us back together to hear from leadership, have extended worship, see "family videos" our SEAM team has produced, and dream together towards the future. Our goal was to create a space where our colleagues met with God and with each other. That happened. What was unexpectedly beautiful for me was that God created a space in my own mom/leader heart of wonder and love, just seeing this group, hearing the stories, after the past years of injury and COVID isolations and barriers . . . being together was richer than ever.
So here we are post-retreat, back in Bundibugyo, back to countless email and zooms, back to loving from afar our Area and family in the States, back to holding up the good work started over more than 3 decades with less help and more administrative requirements. Back into a fast-moving current of working for the all-things-new good of the paradoxical kingdom of Jesus, where students from a marginal district win scholarships to university (our CSB kids took 7 of the 8 for our district!!) and we rent a huge bus to take all the seniors to see beyond Bundibugyo to Ugandan wonders of hydroelectricity generation, cattle breeding, cobalt mining, and the glorious animals of a national park. Back to a place that values prayers for the sheer miracle of living through the dangers of a dark night of malevolent evil, of daily reminders of sickness and poverty, loan sharks and injustice.
Back into the hidden currents of grace, trusting that even if we pass through class 5 rapids, the end is good.
2 comments:
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Having lived through the easy part of Africa in Lesotho I am overwhelmed every time I read ur posts. Gods blessings on all
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