Rwanda: Still Processing the Hard Stuff

If challenged to come up with the most evil and depraved things that one human being could do to another, I would never in a hundred years come up with the things that were described to my husband at a church in Nyamata. Acts more horrible and cruel than I can even wrap my brain around were committed on thousands of men, women and children seeking refuge in God’s house.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate, N.

I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a person who brutally murdered my parents, siblings or child standing at the next gas pump or behind me in the supermarket checkout line. My husband met several people in Rwanda for whom this is a reality of going through daily life.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate, A.

Nor can I imagine what it would be like to watch my parents die an agonizing death of AIDS and then be forced, as a child, to try to scrape by all alone on the streets. My husband hung out, played soccer and drank Fantas with boys who have experienced these things. Ten Talents and Hope for the Future are providing some of these boys—boys who used to spend their days sniffing glue and stealing their next meals--with a sanctuary and safe haven, warm meals, medical care, education, and counseling--the closest thing to a home and a family they have had in a long time. Organizations like Compassion are giving children opportunities to help them find a way out of poverty. Yet there are many others who still desperately need someone to love them and invest in their lives. It’s difficult for me to comprehend what it would be like to spend childhood in an institution, longing for the touch, affection, attention and unconditional love of a mommy and daddy. Or to have spent so much of my life without it that I wouldn’t even realize what I was missing. Or the depth of despair a mother must feel when she realizes that her baby’s very survival will require relinquishment to an orphanage. My husband is still trying to process what he experienced in the Rwandan orphanages he visited and how we might make a meaningful difference in those children’s lives.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate, E.

The only framework within which I can start to understand Rwandan history is to think of it in terms of spiritual warfare on earth. The atrocities of the genocide were more evil than any ordinary human being could commit without the influence of demonic forces and satan himself. I don't think Romeo Dallaire was just figuratively speaking when he said that he saw the devil in the eyes of the Interahamwe leaders. And then the forgiveness, courage and efforts at reconciliation that so many Rwandans have demonstrated in the years since the genocide—these are also greater than ordinary humans would be capable of without divine intervention and the presence of the Holy Spirit. Rwandans haven’t been given supernatural powers that enable them to be more desensitized, have a higher pain tolerance, repent or forgive more easily than anyone else in the world. The emotional wounds from the genocide are still raw. The tensions, memories, scars, nightmares, remorse and heartbreak are still there. And there is much hardship besides the genocide. Many live in poverty. Many are dying of AIDS. Many have been orphaned. But what struck my husband the most were the many, many people who, in the midst of such tragedy, have found refuge in the arms of their Heavenly Father. People who believe that God never left them and that he continues to be there with them in the midst of their brokenness, loneliness, emptiness, terror, pain, shame and sorrow.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate, A

God is glorified when his children cry out to him as their Daddy. When our faith that He is with us and our trust and hope that He will carry us through the storm is all we’ve got left. And when that faith--that relationship--is sufficient.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate, E.

Hope for Rwanda lies not in any political regime, economic partnership, humanitarian aid or reconciliation program. These things are important and will help Rwanda to move forward in the right direction. But real recovery and change are going to take more than man-made solutions. It’s a God-sized job. And it’s what’s happening at the soul level that holds the greatest promise for Rwanda’s future. God is hearing the cries of believers in Rwanda. He is there in that beautiful, green, lush landscape with those beautiful people in the midst of their struggles and hardship. Rwanda has a long road ahead. But the message of His comfort, healing and redemption is transforming Rwanda from the inside out.

Better Than a Hallelujah (by Amy Grant)

God loves a lullaby

In a mothers tears in the dead of night

Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate, A.

God loves the drunkard’s cry,

The soldiers plea not to let him die

Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate, ES.

We pour out our miseries

God just hears a melody

Beautiful the mess we are

The honest cries of breaking hearts

Are better than a Hallelujah.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate, N.

The woman holding on for life,

The dying man giving up the fight

Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate N.

The tears of shame for what's been done,

The silence when the words won't come

Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

Better than a church bell ringing,

Better than a choir singing out, singing out.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate, A.

We pour out our miseries

God just hears a melody

Beautiful the mess we are

The honest cries of breaking hearts

Are better than a Hallelujah.

Photo courtesy of Mr. B's teammate, N.