Growing in Mission

Video

2011-03-07T15:31:00.000-08:00

Matt Davies of the Episcopal News Service visited Juba last week, and put together this video about the Episcopal missionaries based in Juba, myself and Larry Duffee.

Scroll through the clips in the video screen below, to the title "Missionaries in South Sudan" dated 3/3/11 and click on it to play.

Click Here to read the accompanying article.

New Nation

2011-02-08T01:50:00.000-08:00

The official results of South Sudan’s referendum on independence were announced and accepted yesterday evening in the northern capitol, Khartoum.

South Sudan has voted for independence with a nearly unanimous 99%, and it will become the world’s newest nation on July 9, 2011.

There is great joy in Juba today at the official announcement of the results. People huddled around radios and televisions at 7pm last night to listen to the official ceremony. But even as people congratulate each other today, conversations turn to the future. For so long the focus has been January 9, and now the focus has shifted to the long future ahead, nationhood, how to address the problems of insecurity and under-development that have plagued South Sudan in the past. The people of South Sudan recognize the many challenges ahead but have great hope and great vision for what their nation will become.

Referendum Complete!

2011-01-17T05:04:00.000-08:00

The referendum for south Sudan independence is now complete! Voting ended Saturday at 6pm. The preliminary vote count has taken place at the polling stations, and the ballots have been collected for the official count and declaration of results, which will take place by February 14. I went around Juba yesterday with some friends and we visited polling stations to review the posted results. Of the 16 polling stations we visited, they had an average voter turnout of 95% and the vote in favor of separation was 97%.

Throughout the week of voting, Juba was very quiet. The voting was conducted with more than just peace, there was a camaraderie among people, a sense of unity of purpose, a feeling of the monumental importance of these events, and an awe that they should finally come to pass. Though the wait in line took many hours, people were patent, solemn, and respectful.

The Archbishop preached at the Cathedral on Sunday. He spoke of the triumph of the people in achieving a peaceful referendum. And he challenged the people and the government to carry this same spirit of unity of purpose into the founding of the new country.

“We have shown to the world the true nature of the people of south Sudan,” he said.

The referendum week has not been universally peaceful. There were armed clashes in Abyei, which is on the border between north and south. Along with other incidents along the border. Some people in the north continue to fear what the separation may mean for them.

Prayers are still needed for this transition period, for the announcement of the results, and for peace throughout Sudan. We also need to pray for Southern Kordofan and Blue Nile, which are areas on the north side of the border, now entering into the popular consultation process about their own self determination. We continue to pray for peace in the north, for Darfur, and for southerners and Christians living in the north in this uncertain time.

It has been an honor to be here to witness these historic events, to see the people of south Sudan show the world yet again, that they are committed to the peaceful establishment of a democratic society, to see south Sudan show the world that they are a people of peace. So many people have expressed their thanks to me for being here with them at this time. There is great gratitude to the international observers and other foreign visitors who came during the referendum. But most of all, people express their gratitude to God, for bringing them to this day.

There is a book on the Episcopal Church of Sudan called, But God is not Defeated. One of the authors, Samuel Kayanga passed away suddenly last week a couple days before the referendum began. He was a great theologian and teacher, and is missed by his family and the whole Episcopal Church of Sudan. There seems to be greater mourning going on for those who died that week, because they did not get to witness the referendum. There was also greater joy for babies born the week of the referendum, and many were named “Referendum.”

Echoing the sentiment of But God is not Defeated: the people of Sudan have borne much suffering, and much joy. Though it all, they have not been left alone, nor forgotten who it is who is accompanying them. God incarnate, the living Christ, has already defeated death. God is not, cannot, and will never be defeated. While tears of sadness and tears of jubilation are shed at the events that have passed this week, we know that the Prince of Peace reigns in our hearts, and that all things are in the hands of God.

Referendum Day 3

2011-01-11T04:35:00.000-08:00

This is day 3 of the 7 days of voting for south Sudan’s Referendum on independence. The South Sudan Referendum Commission announced that 46% of the polling stations have reported a voter turn out of nearly one million voters already. This is a good omen for meeting the required 60% voter turn out. A total of 3.75 million people registered to vote.

Bishop Alapayo in Rumbek, reported that many voters were turned away the first day because they just couldn’t process them all, but that they came back the second day, lining up at polling stations from midnight, so that they could cast their votes.

Bishop Alapayo said, “The first day of voting for South Sudan’s Referendum was marked with extreme excitement and jubilation all over South Sudan.” He described the day as the second happiest day of his life. Second only to the day he was baptized.

In Juba, lines continue to be long at registration centers, though shorter than the first two days. They have extended the period of voting by one hour, to try to help with the lines.

Across the south, the vote continues peacefully. Though there have been reports of tribal clashes between Misseriya Arabs and Ngok Dinka in the Abeyi area (which was set to have its own referendum that has now been indefinitely postponed). There were also reports of an attack near the north-south border on a busload of southern returnees.

We continue to pray for peace in the border regions, and peace throughout Sudan.

Photo: Anonymous- Voters line up in Juba

Referendum Success!

2011-01-09T10:18:00.000-08:00

Few generations have the chance to shape the future of their people in such dramatic way as the people of southern Sudan do today. Few people get to witness the birth of a new nation. And few nations divide in peace. The success of today’s voting is a sign that all of this is happening in Sudan right now.

Thousands of people were already lined up at every polling station around Juba when the voting opened this morning at 8am. Throughout the day long lines persisted, as people cast their votes. Despite the crowds and long waits, the people were patient and joyful. People congratulated each other as they voted. There was a general feeling of solemnity in the air, a state of awe at the historic event we were witnessing and participating in. It is hard to describe the intensity of the overarching feeling of joy and pride that pervaded Juba today.

The Catholic and Episcopal Archbishops went together to vote, with a delegation of observers including Muslim and Christian leaders from different parts of Africa. They arrived to great applause by the people waiting in line at the polling station. International and domestic observers came and went as we were at the polling station. Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter were among the International observers who came by. Jimmy Carter greeted the Archbishops, and all the people gathered there. He thanked the other observers for their presence, and encouraged the voters with confident words and a glowing smile. He spent a few minutes speaking with the Archbishops about their experience of the vote, and telling them about his own commitment as a Christian.

The voting will continue through Saturday, and the announcement of the result will be a week or so afterward. Should separation be the result, the transition period will end with the establishment of a new nation on July 9, 2011.

We praise God for this joyful peaceful day, and we continue to pray for peace in all corners of Sudan as these events unfold.

(Photos by anonymous: Voters wait patiently outside a Juba polling station. And Archbishop Daniel Deng Bul (right), and Archbishop Paulino Lukudu (center), show their inked fingers to President Jimmy Carter after voting.)

Prayer Vigils

2011-01-08T12:40:00.000-08:00

People gathered at Juba All Saint’s Cathedral, and all over Juba for a day of prayer today, in anticipation of the Referendum which begins tomorrow. The Sudan Council of Churches hosted the gathering at All Saint’s. It was the culmination of a 40 day campaign of fasting and prayer for peace. The mood of the service was one of joy, and a commitment to peace and reconciliation. Several speakers said that the new country must be founded with God in mind. The representative from the government called on the Church to be a witness to the government. She compared the Church’s role to the role of Moses with the Israelites, saying that the church needed to pray to God for guidance, and be a witness to the government.

Passages from the beginning of the book of Joshua were referred to, and a parallel drawn between the struggles of the people of South Sudan, and the 40 years that the Israelites spent in the wilderness.

“We have come now to the banks of the Jordan,” the preacher said. “And it is by the grace of God that we shall pass to the other side.”

It is the Promised Land which the people of South Sudan long for, and there is great jubilation that their hour has at last come.

With the eyes of the world upon us, tomorrow, and throughout the week of voting, the people of South Sudan will show the world their commitment to peace, and their joy at this opportunity to exercise their democratic right to self-determination.

More:
Episcopal News Service Article about prayers being conducted in the US

Episcopal Church (US) page of resources and prayers for Sudan

Power of Prayer

2011-01-06T06:14:00.000-08:00

The referendum to divide Sudan into two countries is only 3 days away. The eyes of the world are turning this way, and we can feel it.

Juba is calm. There is less traffic than usual, and more reporters than usual. But the overwhelming feeling is one of hope.

Saturday January 8, is a day of prayer throughout south Sudan. Two other times in the last two years the city of Juba has been shut down for a day of prayer. Once in June of 2009 to pray for peace at the time of the Abyei announcement, and once in April 2010 to pray for peace during the elections. Both times I was so moved to see inter-faith and ecumenical unity in prayer. People set aside their differences, closed their businesses, left their market stalls, closed their government offices, so that they could gather together all over the city and pray. The prayers lasted all night. I have never experienced anything like it. Even in the wake of September 11, 2001, my country was not as united in prayer, as the people of South Sudan were on those two occasions. And the fruit of those days of prayer has been miraculous peace. On both occasions, the international media predicted trouble, even war, but peace prevailed.

I fully expect people from all over Sudan, north and south, to spend Saturday in prayer. And I know we will be joined by the prayers of people from all over the world. And I also expect that the fruit of that prayer will be the miraculous presence of the Peace which passes understanding.

Prayers have already been answered. Logistical problems seem to have been surmounted, and some fighting factions in south Sudan have put down their arms. The Archbishop was instrumental in negotiating a recent peace deal with one such group. And all the dioceses of the Episcopal Church of Sudan have been promoting peace, and educating their people about peace.

I thank our friends and partners around the world for joining with us in praying for peace in Sudan.

Peace be with you.

Referendum Registration

2010-12-03T11:06:00.000-08:00

(Photo courtesy of Abara registration center)
The 3 week period of voter registration for the referendum on whether to divide Sudan into two countries, closes next week. Completion of the registration is critical for conducting the referendum in a timely fashion, which is very important for maintaining peace. Most voters will be voting for only the second time in their life. The first election in a generation was held in April of this year (see article).

The referendum, which will be several days of voting beginning on January 9, allows southern Sudanese to decide whether they remain a part of a united Sudan, or whether South Sudan divides to become it’s own country. As part of the Comprehensive Peace agreement, a regionally autonomous government, the Government of South Sudan, was created in 2005. It has it’s own elected President, and Legislative Assembly, as well as all it’s own ministries. In order for South Sudan to gain independence in the referendum, 60% of registered voters must turn up for the polling, and 50% plus one, must vote for separation. Most polls show that a vast majority of southerners favor separation.

There were many logistical problems in the April elections, which may be repeated or intensified because of the late conclusion of registration. There are also outstanding issues between the northern and southern governments, like border demarcation, self determination for the transitional areas north of the border, and ownership of the oil rich Abyei area.

The Episcopal Church of Sudan encourages all of it’s friends and partners around the world, to join with us in praying for a peaceful resolution to the referendum.

Links for More:
BBC Article
Archbishop Daniel Deng Bul, and Catholic Archbishop Paulino Lokudu Register to vote together

Namesake

2010-11-18T11:41:00.000-08:00

In July, when I was visiting the village of Panyikwara Abara, where I go often (article), my friend Pasca had just given birth 3 days previous when she hosted me in her house. Her husband Charles who is now a theology student, used to be the Archbishop’s Chaplain, and we traveled on many trips together last year. I have been blessed to become a friend of their family!

In Pasca and Charles’s area, the tradition is to name baby girls on their 4th day. So on the second day of my visit, I was given the amazing news that the baby girl would be named after me “Robinsida”. I was especially surprised, because while I like my name, most people here don’t like it, because it is considered a man’s name (and gender neutral names are extremely rare). So lucky for Robinsida, my name was altered to make it properly feminine.

I finally got to take a picture with Robisida when I was visiting this week. She is growing so fast!

Normal Life

2010-11-13T17:34:00.000-08:00

My last monthly update, went out as an opinion piece on the Episcopal News Service.

Click Here to read it.

Down but not Out in Ezo

2010-10-20T10:04:00.000-07:00

I recently got back from a trip out to the edge of Western Equatoria near the border with Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and Central African Republic (CAR). This is the area that has been terrorized by the LRA rebels for two years now. My friend Buck from the diocese of Virginia and I traveled together.

Ezo has long been in my thoughts and prayers. While the ECS has 7 dioceses that have been affected by the LRA, Ezo has been hit the hardest, and the longest. They are placed right at the border junction of Sudan, CAR, and DRC. The people on both sides of the border live in a remote area far from any of their centers of government. Though they have different nationalities, they are the same ethnic group, and share a common language and history. The LRA have been active in that area, flitting between the countries, and causing widespread panic and suffering. In the village of Ezo alone, 35 people have killed, 59 abducted, 3,000 refugees from DRC have come, and 25,600 people from the surrounding rural area have been displaced into the village. Many more have been displaced throughout the region, with well over 100,000 displaced all together. People who were successful farmers, who were able to provide for their families, are now hungry and suffering greatly from disease and poor living conditions, reduced to squatters in stick and tarp shacks, so close together there is no room to farm.

When people do try to return to their farms, they are targeted by the LRA. The LRA strategy seems to be that of maximum displacement. They leave an area for a time, and just when people begin to think it is safe, they strike again. They are not rebels by the normal definition. They have no political agenda of their own. They are terrorists in the extreme, who mutilate their victims, and capture children to force into their army. They are the worst kind of hired mercenaries imaginable. When we met with the county commissioner he said, “We do not mean to fight the LRA, we do not mean to fight anyone, but we are forced.” The Ugandan, Congolese and south Sudanese military forces have been trying to work together to stop they LRA but have not yet been successful.

The conditions in the refugee and IDP camps in Ezo are terrible. People have no space, and disease is spreading rapidly. In the refugee camp they bury at least one person a day. They showed us the growing makeshift graveyard. The week before our visit, the church lost two important women leaders to sudden illness, one quite young and one old. The entire church compound, the cathedral, the office, even the bishop and his wife have been displaced. The cathedral is meeting under a tent, and the bishop rents a small house in town, surrounded by other displaced people. It has been 3 months now since the last LRA attack on Ezo, and the people are hopeful, but they worry that the LRA will return at the time of the referendum (January).

Despite all that they are suffering the people of the diocese of Ezo continue to worship together and work together for a better future. Their compound, which they had to abandon nearly two years ago because of LRA attacks, they continue to maintain, to keep the rapidly growing forest from reclaiming. Church members go back to slash weeds, and maintain the buildings. The bishop took us there to show us the progress they have made. They even continue to work on the construction of their new brick cathedral, and construction of a new primary school. “We built the school with bricks in one hand and ammunition in the other,” the bishop said. Even under the threat of attack, the people continue working together, taking the risk, hoping and trusting that their efforts will make a difference.

The people were so happy to have Buck and I visit. It had been nearly two years since their last foreign visitor. They asked me to preach at the Sunday service. “We always ask our visitors to share the word of God with us.” I preached about the Kingdom of God, and about how nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ. There were presentations by four different choirs, one of which was a choir brought together just to compose a song for us. Buck and I were adorned with garlands of flowers around our necks, and greeted by each member of the congregation.

Later in the evening there was a presentation which included a short play by the Mother’s Union, speeches, songs, and dance. The Mother’s Union did a dance with grass skirts, and asked me to join them. I was given a grass skirt too, and we danced together. It was wonderful, a true outpouring of joy. They called me “Mama,” which I considered a great honor. And though we don’t speak the same language, their outstretched arms beaconing me to join them in the dance said it all.

I have been to all but one of the southern dioceses now, and I have seen so much displacement and suffering. Ezo, as I had long suspected, has the worst displacement, and the worst suffering. There is so little I can do to help the people of Ezo, or the people of South Sudan. The agriculture projects and training I’m working on require stability, and will take time. But sometimes it is enough to risk, to go, to be present with people in the time of their suffering, to bring them greetings and prayers from friends abroad they didn't know they had, to let them know they are not alone or forgotten.

The people of Ezo remind me yet again, that hope and love and laughter and life go on even amidst the most profound suffering. The bishop said, “Everything that has a beginning has an end.” This too shall pass. The peace-loving agriculturalists of Western Equatoria will one day return to their farms, and build their nation.

Please join me in praying for the dioceses affected by the LRA:
Diocese of Ezo, Bishop John Zawo
Diocese of Nzara, Bishop Sammuel Peni
Diocese of Yambio, Bishop Peter Munde
Diocese of Ibba, Bishop Wilson Kamani
Diocese of Maridi, Bishop Justin Badi
Diocese of Mundri, Bishop Bismark Avokaya
And those hosting the displaced:
Diocese of Yei, Bishop Hilary Luate
Diocese of Lainya, Bishop Peter Amidi

Archbishop's Advocacy Tour

2010-10-18T15:40:00.000-07:00

Archbishop Daniel Deng Bul is currently on an advocacy tour of the UK and US.

He and Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, held a joint press conference at Lambeth Palace.
Read about it Here.

He visited the UN and met with Ban Ki Moon.
Read about it Here.

He preached at Trinity Wall Street on October 10
Sermon video Here.

The Episcopal Church USA materials on a Season of Prayer for Sudan:
Click Here.

Celebration in DWT

2010-10-15T17:27:00.000-07:00

I just got back from another great trip to the Diocese of Western Tanganyika (Kasulu, Tanzania). DWT, the Diocese of Gloucester in England, and my home diocese, El Camino Real, are part of a 3-way companion diocese relationship. The relationship began two years ago, and has involved visits, projects, study of scripture, and mutual prayer. Every person who has been involved in the partnership has been changed by it. It is a beautiful example of our common love and unity in Christ.

I got to visit DWT twice last year, for the initial partnership visit, and to help with a solar cooking workshop. The visit last weekend was for the installation of the new bishop of Western Tanganika, Bishop Sadock Makaya.

The celebration took place in the Cathedral in Kasulu, full past bursting point with at least 2,000 people in attendance. Eight choirs performed songs composed for the occasion. It was an epic six-hour event, an outpouring of celebration for the beginning of a new ministry. Bishop Sadock is a deeply spiritual, humble, and joy-filled servant of God and leader of his people. It was a great honor to be there for the event, and to represent our partnership, along with Archdeacon Robert from the Diocese of Gloucester (photo above).

I have been a lot of places for short and long term mission work, but my visits to DWT stand out in my mind and heart as some of the most special. The nature of our partnership, it’s basis in hospitality, conversation, trust, and friendship, and it’s commitment to equality in partnership, continue to inspire and amaze me. The fruit of this partnership is the stretching of each of us beyond our paradigms, not only to engage but to love deeply those who differ from us. It’s not about fixing anybody or changing anybody, it’s about journeying together as brothers and sisters in Christ.

Bwana Asifiwe!! (Praise the Lord!)

Season of Prayer

2010-09-17T05:41:00.000-07:00

The Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church (in the USA) has declared a Season of Prayer for Sudan.

I announced this at our weekly staff devotions this morning, and it was greeted by great applause from the Provincial staff of the Episcopal Church of Sudan. As we engage in prayer here in Sudan, it is encouraging to know that brothers and sisters in Christ in the US and other places around the world are praying with us.

CLICK HERE for resources, prayers, and action suggestions.

CLICK HERE for the Episcopal News Service Article about the call to prayer

Below is an interview with the Presiding Bishop, the Most Rev. Katherine Jefferts Schori, recorded live July 28, 2010. Skip ahead to minute 25:50 to hear her speak about Sudan and the season of prayer. (from www.episcopalchurch.org)

New Links

2010-09-16T01:52:00.000-07:00

The Episcopal Church, Mission Personnel have a blog, featuring articles from missionaries around the world: CLICK HERE

Jesse Zink, a former member of the Young Adult Service Corps, and renowned mission blogger, is visiting Sudan right now. See his insights and photos at: CLICK HERE

The Mission Personnel website (of The Episcopal Church), has been updated with video interviews of missionaries, including myself: CLICK HERE or see below.

The Fruit of Hope

2010-07-01T12:15:00.000-07:00

The tension between hope and fear, sadness and joy is a very present part of life in the mission field. But I find this year that I see the patterns of hope more clearly, and I want to share a particular story with you.

The very first week I arrived in Sudan (Feb 2009), I visited the village of Panyikwara, in Magwi county. I wrote about it in my first update. The people had just returned, only months before, from more than a decade in refugee camps in Kenya and Uganda. Everyone was hungry, some were starving, their houses were basic stick and tarp constructions. There was very little planted. The people were desperate. The land they were on was so fertile, and they were farmers, but they hadn’t arrived home in the planting season. I was so deeply saddened by their desperation, and I remember being galvanized by Bishop Bernard’s (their bishop) words, “We hope that hunger will not be a problem with these people next year.”

I returned to Panyikwara at least 16 times last year. (It is about 4 hours away from Juba.) The Province (of the Episcopal Church of Sudan) has land there, and the Archbishop wanted me to start a pilot project. Unfortunately there were banking problems with our funding partner, so the farm was very small, and not able to make a profit. Only 20 families were involved, (in a larger community of 23,000) but they did receive training, and some were able to grow excess food.

After that very first visit, when I saw a rainbow and remembered that there was always hope, it seemed to me that every time I looked, the hope kept growing. Slowly the stick and tarp structures were replaced by well-built sturdy mud huts, some even made from bricks. Shops sprung up along the road with metal roofs, more and more crops were planted, people’s nutrition improved, a health clinic was built, a pharmacy was built, the market grew, some houses with metal roofs were built, people were wearing new clothes, more people had rubber boots instead of flip flops, and last month some people watched the World Cup on a generator powered satellite TV connection… The changes are endless. These are signs of progress, signs of development, hope made tangible.

Yes, the people of Magwi county received help from outside. They were given some assistance by the UN High Commission on Refugees, and other refugee organizations built wells, and the clinic. But the progress came down to the people. The people did not give up hope. Even though they were hungry and tired. Even though people like me showed up with dreams of big projects only to deliver very little, still their hospitality and their hope and their work ethic did not wane. I did not know that progress like this was possible in such a short period of time, to go from severely impoverished, completely aid supported, to self-sufficient in one year (and a drought year at that!)

This is not the story everywhere. I have seen other places where people cannot hold onto hope, where division and hatred, the fruit of war, continue to keep them in abject poverty and conflict.

I had nothing to do with the success of the people of Magwi. I made mistakes, promising them things and then backing out. But they forgave me, and continued to welcome me into their homes and their lives. I got to be the privileged witness of the miracle that has happened there, the fruit of their hope and faith. Last week, I asked our farm supervisor if the people in Panyikwara were proud of how far they had come in a year. He said, “how can we be proud unless someone tells us we have done well?” And in that moment I was so honored to get to be the one to slap him on the back and say, “well done friend!”

I know that back home things are tough, so many people have lost their retirement, their jobs, their homes, their farms. But the real tragedy is when people lose their hope and their faith. We are all victims of the chances of our lives, but we can always choose love, faith, and hope, and that makes all the difference in the world.

“And now, faith, hope, and love abide, and the greatest of these is love.” (1Cor 13:13)

Episcorific

2010-06-30T04:32:00.000-07:00

Episcorific is an online magazine by and for young Episcopalians. I wrote an article in the current edition. Page 5
Click Here to read.

Recording Peace

2010-06-09T15:05:00.000-07:00

One thing I love about working for the Episcopal Church of Sudan, is that whenever there is a big event, it’s all hands on deck. It is for that reason, that I found myself, the Agriculture Consultant, taking minutes at a peace meeting in Rumbek last week.

The peace gathering was an important event. The two regions of Greater Bahr al Ghazal and Western Equatoria have been having some conflict over the past year. It is another chapter of the age-old conflict between cattle keepers and farmers: Cane and Abel, Jacob and Esau, ranchers and farmers… Oklahoma the musical… even in Western culture we are familiar with the concept. The cattle herders of Bahr al Ghazal were bringing their cattle into Western Equatoria for grazing during the drought, trampling crops while they were at it, creating conflict and violence in the communities.

The peace event brought together representatives of the state governments, one Governor, many local chiefs, church members, and the bishops from the two regions. Through three days of lectures, reports, discussions, and sharing, the group came up with a list of very progressive recommendations for the communities and the government. Including such hot topics as, lowering bride prices, encouraging intermarriage between tribes, and limiting grazing areas.

The participants took this work very seriously and engaged openly and honestly with each other in dialog. One participant was a farmer, and she had been shot and nearly killed by a cattle herder, yet she joined openly in group discussions with cattle keepers.

I was tasked, as the secretary, to work with a smaller committee to draft the statement for the conference. We worked late into the night to prepare the statement for the next day. But we struggled to think of a good way to open it. Finally, with a nod to Thomas Jefferson, we start with the word, "we"… and the rest just flowed.
“We are deeply grieved that violent conflicts among the southern peoples continue to tear apart our communities and threaten our future…”
(Click here to see the full statement and resolutions).

The Churches in Sudan were instrumental in bringing about the peace agreement that ended the war in 2005, and the Episcopal Church continues to play an important role in the living into that peace. The Church and its leaders speak prophetically about peace and what it takes. Peace conferences like this one have been hosted in other places, and will continue to be hosted, and the bishops on the ground will continue to work with their people on peace and reconciliation.

While my purpose here is agricultural, I was so blessed to get to be the recorder of some of the history being made here on the front of peace.

It’s a Tractor!

2010-06-08T15:01:00.000-07:00

The long awaited arrival has finally taken place! The Episcopal Church of Sudan, Department of Agriculture, is now the proud owner of one Massey Ferguson 290 model, 82 horsepower Tractor, complete with plow, disk harrow, disk planter, and trailer.

A great big thank you to the United Thank Offering (UTO) for the grant which purchased this tractor!

UTO is an Episcopal organization in the US, which gives grants to dioceses all over the world. Wherever I have been in the world or at home, I have seen the great work of UTO. They are best known in the US for their “mite boxes” which people put coins in everytime they are thankful for something in their lives. But don’t just give coins, if you are really thankful, write a check!
http://episcopalchurch.org/uto

Look out, no brakes!

2010-05-24T14:54:00.000-07:00

“Torit is just on the other side of that next mountain.” -Bishop
“But bishop, you said that about the last two mountains.” -me
-- insert twinkling grin -- “Don’t worry, it’s very close.” -Bishop
“You’re just afraid I’ll start driving faster aren’t you?” -me
-- grin-- -Bishop
“I love my job.” -Buck

You might think that driving on a road that was more like “off-roading” with hardly any brakes would be exciting. But it was the proverbial “are we there yet?” experience. It took us more than 7 hours to drive 80 miles.

Luckily for all my passengers, Buck continued to buy and feed me packaged cookies throughout the journey, keeping me sane, and driving very very slowly.

I had the pleasure of traveling with Buck this month on two equally exciting trips. (You may remember that Buck, from Virginia, was one of my first traveling companions when I came to Sudan). Buck loves his job, and is good at reminding the rest of us to love our jobs too, even when we are hot, and tired of driving so slow.

I should quantify “exciting trips”. The combined maintenance requirements on the vehicle after one week with 32 driving hours was: two full sets of shock absorbers, and new brakes.

We spent several days in the Diocese of Ibba, 10 hours drive from Juba. We learned of the great progress the kids at the local school have made (the 8th graders toped the state exam!) and the hopes of the diocese. I got to put on an agriculture workshop. Buck’s sister got to teach some art and social studies classes. We ate termites (one of us thought they said “turnips,” it was dark), and we returned with the very prestigious gift of a live goat. Yes, a live goat, in the back of the car, with the suitcases. “Little Buck” has become a bit of a pet, though we are looking for a new home for him, as my housemates and I are a bit tired of being woken up early in the morning by incessant bleating!

Our trip to Torit, was a bit more car-maintenance focused. Though it was a joy to sit and chat with Bishop Bernard as we waited for brakes to get fixed. We also got to do some walking around Torit, and got to see the progress they have made, and the tremendous hope for the future they have, great dreams, and great potential!

Should you know a diocese or parish somewhere that is looking for an overseas partner, Torit and Ibba are two of many dioceses in Sudan that are a great partnership opportunity!

Elections

2010-04-20T01:31:00.001-07:00

The elections finished last Thursday, and were conducted peacefully. We thank God for this!

People were so excited to vote for the first time in their lives, and see a democratic process in their country after so many years of war. Despite delays, long lines, roster mistakes, and logistical problems, voters showed extreme patience and commitment to the democratic process. So many people proudly showed me their inked fingers, proof that they had voted.

People in Sudan were praised by international elections observers for their civic spirit, pride, and hospitality. Observers also noted many problems in the elections, but described them as an important part of the peace process.

Now we pray for a peaceful response to the results announcement. The Sudan Council of Churches hosted a prayer meeting yesterday, and the Cathedral was packed with people, praying for peace. Please join us in continuing to pray for peace!

Agriculture Students

2010-04-19T17:24:00.000-07:00

It has been my joy this year to have an addition to my usual duties. I am now teaching agriculture one day a week at Bishop Gwynne Theological College. The students are all pastors, and the focus of the class is an introduction to improved sustainable agriculture techniques for subsistence farmers. We do both lecture and practical classes where we work in my demonstration garden. We planted vegetables today, I’ll post pictures when they start to grow!

Next semester I will be teaching agriculture extension methods, so that when they return to their parishes, they will be prepared to do agriculture extension work with their congregations.

The students are enthusiastic about the subject, and are wonderfully joyful, prayerful people. They already are, and will continue to be tremendous leaders in their congregations. I have so enjoyed becoming part of their community, and joining with them daily in prayers.

Pray for Peace

2010-04-09T04:14:00.000-07:00

Please join the people of Sudan in praying for peaceful elections, and peace at the time of the results announcement. The election will be April 11-13. Tomorrow, people will gather all over Juba to pray for peace.

Easter Vigil

2010-04-04T03:53:00.000-07:00

Alleluia, Christ is risen! The Lord is risen in deed Alleluia!

The Easter vigil began just as dusk was falling. It was a “bring your own candle (and holder)” event. Most of us had fashioned candle holders out of cut-off plastic bottles filled with sand. It was wonderful to watch the light of the pascal candle grow as it spread from person to person, until the whole cathedral, full of people, was glowing.

The joy grew as the service continued. The candles burned on, even when the lights were turned back on. The joy finally burst forth on the final hymn “I’m so glad that Jesus set me free.” It was as though a dance-party broke out. No one wanted to stop singing, there was dancing in the pews and dancing in the aisles, and people danced out of the church with their candles, still singing and shouting and dancing even as they gathered on the cathedral grounds. I stayed to dance with the choir, and when the chorus finally ended, people outside were still dancing and shouting and greeting one another.

From the steps of the Cathedral I could see the crowds of people with their candles still burning walking out into the dark streets of Juba, carrying the light of the risen Christ!

The joy of Easter is more than palpable. The joy of Easter changes everything, and it cannot be contained!

Holy Saturday

2010-04-03T20:23:00.000-07:00

Sometime on Good Friday afternoon, my sacred heart Jesus key chain (in psychedelic colors) disappeared off of my key ring. I am expecting to find it on Easter.

Holy Saturday is a waiting time. An in-between time. The work of the cross completed, the promise of resurrection soon to be accomplished. It is an echo of the waiting in our lives, waiting for and working for the coming of the Kingdom of God.

God is holding Sudan now, in this waiting time before elections. God is holding each of us whenever we struggle or despair. We have an endless source of love and peace, wrapped around us and in us. All we have to do is turn and remember.

Good Friday

2010-04-02T12:26:00.001-07:00

From Good Friday, it is sometimes hard to see Easter. As we focus on the suffering and death of Christ, we are reminded of the suffering and death that continues to happen around the world. And the way that we continue to turn our hearts from God, even after Christ’s sacrifice.

In the midst of the dry season, it is difficult to remember that the rain will come. In the midst of hardship or sickness, it is hard to remember that this too shall pass.

In south Sudan, the dry season is giving way to the rainy season, the trees are coming back to life. This photo is of one of my moringa trees, just a little tree when the dry season began, it lost most of it’s leaves, but it is coming back to life now. It’s leaves are a symbol of hope, not just for the return of life to the land, but also because they can be used to treat malnutrition, and strengthen the immune system. All of my moringa trees survived the dry season.

It is an uncertain time here as we await the coming of the elections, which begin the first Sunday after Easter. This time too shall pass, and there is much hope as we pray for peace.

Today we contemplate just how far our God was willing to go to bring us, his wayward children, back into his loving embrace. Let us humble ourselves before God, who gives life to the world.

Maundy Thursday

2010-04-01T13:23:00.000-07:00

The Maundy Thursday service this evening was lovely. It was a combined service of the English and Arabic congregations. It was a small service for the cathedral, about 100 people.

The power is fairly unreliable here, and it went out just about the time that it was getting dark. As the fans shut down, the temperature quickly climbed into the high 90s inside the cathedral. The more pressing problem at that point, however, was being able to read the prayers. There followed a series of flashlight offerings to the priest, each one slightly better than the last. First a key chain light, then I offered my cell phone/flashlight combo, finally a proper flashlight showed up in the middle of the Eucharistic prayer. Somehow, the flow of the service was unbroken!

The nice thing about the power going out, was that the candles behind the altar were lit. I love the light from candles, in our culture, candles are associated with spiritual things. But candles here are for practical use. You light candles when you don’t have power, so why would you light them in broad daylight, or when there are electric lights?

Before the power went out, nearly everyone had their feet washed by the priests. I love the foot washing service. It is such a good reminder of our calling to humility in service, and that we have to both serve, and allow others to serve us.

I have had my feet washed on several different occasions while visiting villages. After sitting down in a circle with the hosts, several women will come with a basin, a pitcher, a towel, and sometimes a pair of plastic flip flops to wear while your feet dry. After walking a dusty path in the hot sun, it is such a wonderful feeling to have your feet washed, and the kindness and care that it represents is even more wonderful.

Such is the kind of service Jesus calls us to. The intimate and humble acts of life, the kindness and care we show to each other.

Holy Wednesday

2010-03-31T11:39:00.000-07:00

Today began with a morning Eucharist at the Cathedral. The reading was the parable of the vineyard owner and the bad tenants, who beat up and kill the messengers he sends. (Mark 12:1-12)

Having studied viticulture (grape growing) in college, I always love the parables about vineyards! But like all parables, it isn't actually about the vineyard. It is about God's love for humanity, and our determination to reject God's messengers, even Jesus himself.

How are we like the tenants in the vineyard? We probably don't beat up or kill the messengers of God, but how often do we take time to listen for that still small voice? How often are our prayers a laundry list of what we want rather than a time to be in the presence of God?

Once when someone asked Mother Teresa how she prayed, she said that she listened. And when they asked what God said, she replied that God listened too.

Today has been unexpectedly busy for me. I didn't taken any time to listen, until I sat down to write this. It is so easy to get caught up in what there is to do: Things to type and photo copy, proposals to write, budgets to finish, a tractor to order (yay!) This evening I feel the still small voice beckoning to me... come let us listen.

Holy Tuesday

2010-03-30T18:30:00.000-07:00

Today there was a Town Hall Peace Forum, organized by the Episcopal Church of Sudan. It was a major event, sponsored by the UN and covered by all the Juba media outlets. Christian and Muslim leaders gathered to pray for peace and to encourage politicians and voters to conduct themselves peacefully during and after the elections.

Representatives from the parties were given a chance to respond and they pledged themselves to peaceful elections.

I got drafted to take the minutes for the 5-hour event. There is nothing like minute-taking for lengthening one’s attention span!

It was so encouraging to hear people from different religious affiliations, parties, organizations, and the government, all speaking passionately about peace.

Jesus calls us to follow him, to work for justice and peace on earth. The body of Christ is alive and well in the world today, we are not alone. The battle is already won! We know the ending of the story. The Prince of Peace will reign!

Holy Monday

2010-03-29T06:16:00.000-07:00

I wish you all a blessed Holy Week! I’m going to try to post a reflection each day this week.

This week, we reflect on the way of the cross, as we prepare ourselves for a triumphant Easter.

We are an Easter people, forever transformed by Jesus’ triumph over sin and suffering and death. And the way of the cross quantifies that triumph.

All over the world today there are people living in hopelessness, oppression, fear, hunger, disease, depression, exploitation, abuse, neglect, pain, and addiction. Jesus is with them, and he is with us no matter what we face. He has already trod where we are going, he has already suffered what we will suffer. And he has redefined our lives. We are not citizens of this world but citizens of heaven. We have been given eternal life. But the story does not end there.

We are called out into the world to be the hands and heart of Jesus. To touch the untouchable, love the unlovable, to cross the barriers in our society and in our hearts that divide us from each other. We are called to love- no matter what! And it is the “no matter what” that defines the power of love.

On Palm Sunday, we processed into the cathedral waving neem branches we had plucked from the trees around the cathedral (not many palms around). The branches also proved useful for shooing flies during the service, and fanning ourselves since the power was off. Mama Janet, who was preaching, reminded us to open the gates of our hearts to welcome Jesus in, waving our branches and shouting "Hosanna!" And she told us, once he is welcomed, we should make him a place there so that he might stay forever.

We do not need to rely on our own strength. Jesus is with us, the Spirit is in us.

Back in Juba

2010-03-20T15:16:00.000-07:00

It has been a joyful week of re-connecting with friends and coworkers. Juba has grown in my absence. There are two new paved roads, and new billboards. There is a large new fountain. There are campaign posters plastered everywhere, heralding the coming elections in April, the first democratic elections in a generation. The Church is busy, encouraging peace during elections time.

Please join us in praying for peaceful elections!

My work this year will be similar to last. I am continuing to assist the Archbishop and the Province of the Episcopal Church of Sudan to develop an agriculture department. This year I will be training someone to replace me, and hopefully implement some large-scale production projects. I’ll also continue with training of trainers, curriculum and systems development for the department, and advising the dioceses on agriculture issues.

Home Visit

2010-03-08T13:15:00.000-08:00

I just finished a wonderful, 10 week, visit home. It was great to get to spend time with family, see friends, and visit my supporting Churches.

I want to say a special thank you to the Churches who had me for a visit:
St. Luke's, Atascadero
St. Luke's, Hollister
St. James, Paso Robles
St. Martin, Davis
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Visalia
St. Benedict's, Los Osos
St. Richard's, Lake Arrowhead
St. John's, San Bernardino
St. Francis, San Bernardino
St. Barnabas, Arroyo Grande
St. John the Baptist, Aptos
St. Jude's, Cupertino
St. Stephen's, San Luis Obispo
St. Anne's, Middletown Delaware

And thank you to my diocese, El Camino Real, for all your support and prayers!

It was wonderful to get a chance to share stories from Sudan, and reconnect with all of you.
I'm sorry that I wasn't able to visit everyone, and I hope to see you next time!

I am excited to be returning to Sudan to continue my work with the Episcopal Church of Sudan on agriculture projects.

Harvest time!

2009-12-08T06:24:00.001-08:00

The project I've been working on in Panyikwara, Eastern Equatoria state started harvest this month! I thought I'd share these photos of some of the participants with their produce (some of it still growing in the field). See if you can spot the sesame, sorghum, and beans!

This is (in order of appearance): Abdalla

Agnes

Angelo

Franco

Hilary

John

Kemis

Marcielo

Nicholas

Onon

Otin

Oyet

Postino

Taban

Zakeo

Prayer Requests

2009-12-08T06:19:00.000-08:00

Please continue to pray for the situation in Western Equatoria with the LRA (northern Ugandan rebels/terrorists). Two weeks ago, 9 people were killed in the diocese of Nzara. Most of the diocese of Nzara, and all of the diocese of Yambio and the diocese of Ezo are displaced to the towns. Ibba also continues to be effected. And Maridi, Mundri, and Lainya continue to have large numbers of IDPs (internally displaced people). Though this area is very fertile and has had plenty of rain this year, they expect widespread hunger next year because the crops were abandoned as people fled, or burned by the rebels.

The drought in East Africa this year caused terrible crop shortages across Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, and south Sudan. Many dioceses in south Sudan are effected, and expect the hunger season to begin early and be more severe next year. Please pray for them.

Please pray for peace and reconciliation between the tribes to end the conflicts over cattle and territory that have killed thousands this year.

Please pray for the Government of National Unity, the Government of South Sudan, and for the continued implementation of the peace process. Especially for the peaceful conclusion of the legislative session, and peaceful elections next April.

Concecrations

2009-12-01T18:02:00.000-08:00

The last two Sundays were spent at more enthronements and consecrations of bishops. We had the enthronement of the Bishop of Pacong, and the bishop of Akot (two new dioceses), and the consecration of the assistant bishop of Yirol, the assistant bishop of Port Sudan, and the bishop of Wau.

Wonderful celebrations all, of the life and growth of the Church!

Standing Committee

2009-11-30T17:54:00.000-08:00

We just finished a big meeting in Rumbek. It was the Standing Committee of the Episcopal Church of Sudan, which stands in place of the Synod which only meets every 3 years. It was all hands on deck with the provincial staff, so my typing skills were put to use as a minute taker. I minited the house of laity and some of the general sessions.

Some of the more noteworthy decisions were the affirmation that women may become deacons, priests, or bishops, and an affirmation to continue dialog with all members of the Anglican Communion.

During the reading of the resolutions, when it got to the one about women bishops, a great cheer went up from the Mother’s Union, and the bishop’s wives.

For those of you who have ever put on a conference or convention you know the sheer volume of logistical matters involved. This meeting was impressive. The logistics of getting all the bishops and delegates from all over Sudan to one place was amazing. Many of the delegates had never been to Rumbek before.

For me this meeting was the convergence of two worlds. We were in a air conditioned conference facility that could have been in an office park in some commercial district in California. We were following set legislative practices that reminded me both of diocesan conventions I’ve been to and of my time working at the State Capitol. But then in the evening we all left the conference room and went back to our tukls (grass roofed huts), pit latrines, bucket showers, and plastic chairs under the moon. The other difference is that in this meeting, besides the normal matters of church governance, they were discussing matters of life and death, hunger, development, and peace.

See the appeal by the Standing Committee regarding the situation in Sudan: click here.

Register to Vote!

2009-11-05T05:10:00.000-08:00

Today, my boss, the Archbishop of ECS, Daniel Deng Bul, and the Catholic Archbishop Paulino, went to register to vote. This month is the registration of voters for the election next year. It has been more than 20 years since there has been an election in south Sudan, so there is great anticipation. The two Archbishops and their staff saw this as an opportunity to encourage people to get out and register. So they lined up, and got their registration cards, in front of many cameras. It will be all over the news here tonight, and in the paper tomorrow, and hopefully be a big help in both encouraging people to register, and educating them on how to do it.

As I watched the convoy of my coworkers driving off to register, I was filled with joy and pride for them, and hope for the future of this country. I remember how excited I was when I registered to vote for the first time, but this was something much more. The smiles were big when they returned. “Did you register?”… “Yes!”

Photos: the car I drive, proudly displaying it’s new sticker
and Archbishop Daniel proudly displaying his voter id card.

Enthronement

2009-11-03T10:05:00.000-08:00

I had the honor of attending the enthronement of the first bishop of Terakeka, the Rt. Rev. Micah Dawidi this past weekend.

It was a wonderful celebration! The service and speeches lasted just over six hours. The people of Terakeka, a community about an hour’s drive north of Juba, were very excited. Their diocese was created this year, split from the diocese of Juba, and they were very happy to enthrone their long-time beloved assistant bishop, as their diocesan bishop.

Terakeka was greatly affected in October by the displacement of people from fighting in the region. Twenty villages in the area were burned, and 50 people killed, according to official reports. We saw many IDPs staying at schools and various public areas in the town of Terakeka. We walked down to the Nile, and the pastor showed us the boats, and told us that if it weren’t for those boats, that ferried fleeing IDPs across the river during the conflict, many more would have been killed.

As we walked through the town, I saw a moringa tree. I am always looking for moringa trees, which grow wild here, or are planted as ornamental trees. Most people don’t know about their life-saving properties. I always see it as an encouragement when I find the moringa tree growing. I plucked some leaves, and told one of the villagers who was walking with us, that you could eat them, and that they were good for you. He told me “no, we don’t eat them”. So to prove my point, my friend Trevor and I ate a hand full of leaves then and there!

It was wonderful to see the joy that the people had that day of celebration. Despite all the struggle and conflict in the area, they came together to rejoice, to dance, and to sing.

I ask your thanksgivings and your prayers for the new Diocese of Terakeka!

Sun Brownies!

2009-11-02T18:28:00.000-08:00

Success!

Here is my solar oven. You can make your own if you have a black pot, a clear plastic bag (heat-resistant is best). And a shiny surface. You can look up lots of designs on the internet. I learned about solar cooking in Tanzania. (thanks Peggy and Nancy for teaching me, and giving me the kit!)

Here is my first attempt, brownies, made on Halloween! I checked the temperature at the height of cooking, and it was 190F. It took about an hour and a half to cook.

We don’t have an oven (or a refrigerator), so this is the first time I’ve gotten to make brownies all year, very exciting! A whole new world of cooking opportunities is open to me (provided the sun is shining!)

Looking at the sun got me thinking about how the same sun is looking down on all my friends and family in the US. And so I checked the sunrise time in California, and there is about an hour after sunrise in California, which is just before sunset here, so for that hour, we are both looking up at the same sun at the same time… in fact it's happening at this very moment! The world isn’t so big after all…. well maybe it is!

Cooking with the sun!

2009-10-26T13:09:00.000-07:00

I just got back from another visit to our companion diocese, Western Tanganyika (I also visited in March). It was a wonderful visit! So wonderful to see my friends in Western Tanganika again, and to make new friends too. Tanzania is a beautiful country, and though they have problems with inadequate healthcare and education as well as poverty, the presence of a stable peace for so long has left it’s mark on the psyche of the nation. It was truly wonderful and encouraging to be there.

Two ladies from my home diocese came too, and they happen to be accomplished solar cooks. I must admit I was a little skeptical about the idea of cooking with the sun, but Peggy and Nancy got me really excited with their stories of all the things they had cooked. Bishop Gerard, and others in Western Tanganika are very interested in solar cooking, because of it’s potential impact on the lives of women (saves time and money), and on the environment (to slow deforestation). So they were excited about the solar cooking workshop which was planned for our visit.

I gave a talk on nutrition, and gardening techniques, to accompany the solar cooking workshop. But it didn’t take long for me to be won over by the idea of solar cooking. We were thwarted by some cloudy days, but we still managed to cook rice, and chicken. You can make bread, and cookies and cake in a solar oven! As well as stews, casseroles, meat, etc, etc.

Here’s what you need to cook with the sun: A thin walled dark colored pot, a heat-resistant plastic bag, and a shiny, bendable surface… that’s it! Oh yeah, and you need the sun!

Peggy and Nancy sent me back to Sudan with one of their training kits. But, since it’s still the rainy season, the clouds this week have slowed me down. But I have plans for several experiments this weekend (a baked apple, and brownies!) I’ll let you know how it goes!

Movein' in Yambio

2009-09-30T12:49:00.000-07:00

Yambio is a beautiful place, surrounded by dense tropical forest. It reminds me quite a bit of Liberia. There are trees and birds here that I’ve seen in Liberia, but no place else in Sudan. There is a tranquility about the forest, perhaps it’s the quiet sounds of wind over leaves, birds chirping. Perhaps it’s the cool of the shade, the beauty of the flowers, the age and grandeur of the trees.

But there is no peace in this region. Yambio is the capitol of Western Equitoria state. The region has been plagued by the LRA (a group of northern Ugandan rebels) since December of last year, with a big increase of attacks in August (Ezo, which I have mentioned before is in Western Equitoria). All of the parishes in the diocese of Yambio which are outside the town have been displaced to the town. Many of their homes and crops have been burned, and people have been abducted and killed. There are more than 2,000 IDPs (internally displaced persons) living on the church land in Yambio, most of whom are church members. They have planted some crops, but it is not enough and the people are suffering. We visited some of them. It was difficult to meet some of the IDPs see the situation they are in, and have nothing to offer them but the few words of greeting I have learned in Zande. And yet, being here is good. Being able to tell their story. Sharing meals and prayers and worship. Learning the local handshake, hearing their stories.

This month there was an attack in Ibba diocese to the east of Yambio. Please continue to pray for Bishop John and the diocese of Ezo, Bishop Peter and the Diocese of Yambio, Cannon Samuel and the Diocese of Nzara, Bishop Wilson and the Diocese of Ibba, Bishop Justin and the Diocese of Maridi, and Bishop Bismark and the Diocese of Mundri. All continue to be effected either by direct attacks by the LRA, or by the continued influx of IDPs from the violence.

But there is hope. At the end of August the ECS in Yambio and Ezo participated in an ecumenical peace march. There were 3 days of fasting and prayer, followed by a two mile barefoot march to the town square in Yambio. 10,000 people, including church and government leaders joined in the march. And the rally that followed brought attention both within Sudan and internationally to the plight of the people. The presence of hope is much more pronounced now, the people were authorized to organize community defense, and there have been fewer LRA attacks this month.

I saw Bishop John a couple days ago. He said, “Our prayers are really being answered.” He was full of hope that the situation will improve, though he also said that the losses that they have suffered will never be forgotten, and even when people can go home, it will be to start all over again from zero. He also said he has really been encouraged by the prayers of people all over the world.

These bishops inspire me by their leadership, their struggle to help the people, their witness for peace and reconciliation, and their speaking out for the voiceless. I have heard several times, “as long as any of my people are here, I will be here”. They do not flee from danger, but face it in the faith of their calling. It is a tremendous burden they bear.

In Yambio on Sunday, there was much joyful singing and dancing, even though the people are suffering. Bishop Peter was telling me, “you know, our people love to dance. They dance to show respect, for celebration, or for mourning.” He laughed and said, “so if you see people dancing you will wonder, are they happy, are they sad?” I once heard it said that during the Truth and Reconciliation Commission hearings in South Africa, they would stop the proceedings occasionally to sing and dance, that this helped the people let go of or work through the terrible truths that were being brought to light.

Move. That’s what this says to me. Not the kind of moving that keeps you busy or helps you run away from the difficult things. Move, in the presence of terrible and beautiful truth. Do something. We can’t fix it, that’s not our job, but we can act. We are called to love one another. With all the little things we do, we are constantly forming who we are. The Church is alive, and in the world, not just a liturgy on Sunday. There is plenty of hope in the world, because God is here. Lets move, out of our comfort zones, out of our inward focus, out of our attitudes of scarcity. Lets see what we can do, where we can go, who we can touch, who we can become.

A Song of the Saints of God

2009-09-04T03:57:00.000-07:00

“I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true, who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.”

In mission work, in life in general I suppose, there is always juxtaposition of states of being: joy and sorrow, hope and despair, love and fear, beauty and horror. They exist side by side, often in the same situations. The tension then is trying to hold these separate experiences of the world at the same time, and recognizing the presence of God there in the midst of it.

In the last few weeks, the Episcopal Church of Sudan has suffered two terrible attacks. One in the diocese of Ezo (on the border with Democratic Republic of the Congo and Central African Republic), and one in the diocese of Twic East (northern Jonglei state). In Ezo, there has been a renewed ferocity of attacks by the LRA (rebels/terrorists of northern Uganda) in the last few weeks. People have fled to the town center of Ezo for protection, but even there the LRA attacked. The bishop, the diocesan staff and 12 of their parishes are currently displaced. On August 12-13 there was an attack on Ezo town by the LRA. The ECS church was attacked, a lay reader was killed, and 8 Sunday school children were abducted by the LRA. The LRA are known for forcing children to become soldiers, and the torture of those they kill or abduct.

In Twic East diocese there was an attack by approximately a thousand heavily armed militia on the village of Wernyol and the surrounding area, on August 29. More than 40 people were killed in the area, and the ECS Archdeacon Joseph Mabior Garang, was among the dead. He was killed in the church in Wernyol while leading morning prayer.

More than two thousand have died in south Sudan in increasing internal conflict since April. See Archbishop Daniel Deng Bul’s appeal regarding these recent events: http://sudan.anglican.org/jongleiappeal.php

I received the news of these two attacks after returning from a wonderful trip to two dioceses on the border with northern Sudan last Saturday. The news, devastating in itself, also adds to the growing despair people here feel about the instability of the peace. Where is God in all this? How can we reconcile these events with the image of our loving God? And why is it that I come back to this question after asking it so many times in the past?

In the last 25 years, more than two and a half million people died in the war in south Sudan. The Church in Sudan is not a stranger to suffering and death, imprisonment and martyrdom. And yet many of the bishops and leaders in the church who I know are people full of a deep and contagious joy. Despite the existence of such horror and despair in the past and present, joy, peace, love, and hope are very much alive in the hearts of these men and women. I am learning from them that a heart full of this mysterious joy, is something that cannot be taught, but must be gained through prayer and experience. In the journey of our lives, each discovery of redemption, each experience of the presence of hope in the face of despair, love in the face of fear, joy in the face of pain, teaches us about God.

Here God is, in the joy and hope of those wise souls who have gone and continue to go before us, walking with God in humility and patience. We have much to learn from these saints of God. “The world is bright with the joyous saints who love to do Jesus will”.

We are each a part of the body of Christ alive in the world today. How will we live into that calling today? Perhaps we should start by finishing the song…. “The saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too!”

New Martyrs of Sudan

2009-08-31T10:29:00.000-07:00

The Episcopal Church (USA) General Convention this year, approved May 16 as the feast day for the Martyrs of Sudan. (click here for background). This icon, was commissioned by Hope with Sudan, and painted by Sudanese artist Awer Bul, in commemoration of the martyrs. For more info or prints, contact Jerry Drino: jdrino@hopewithsudan.org. Profit from the sale of prints will go to support survivors of recent attacks in Sudan.

People of the church continue to die in Sudan today. Please pray for the Episcopal Church of Sudan.

Prayer Request

Please pray for the Diocese of Ezo, currently suffering from frequent attacks by the LRA rebels. Pray for Bishop John Zawo, the diocesan staff, and the people. Two weeks ago a lay reader was killed in the church, and 8 children abducted, please pray for them and their families. Other lay readers and pastors have been killed, and other Sunday school children abducted by LRA in the past months.

Please pray for the Diocese of Twic East, currently suffering attacks and instability from local militia. Pray for Assistant Bishop Ezekiel, Rev. Phillip, Canon Mark, and all the diocesan leaders. Pray especially for the family of Archdeacon Joseph Mabior Garang, who was killed in the church while leading morning prayer, and the families of the 40 others killed in the attack on Wernyol last Saturday.

These recent attacks are part of an escalation of violence in the region. Please see the Archbishop’s appeal to the international community: click here

Malakal and Renk

2009-08-30T13:22:00.000-07:00

Three of us from the provincial office traveled to Malakal and Renk for the last two weeks. It was a wonderful trip and an adventure.

Malakal and Renk are about 200 miles apart, both on the flat plain that surrounds the Nile river, just north of the Sudd (the largest seasonal swamp in the world). It rained in Malakal while we were there, and I have never seen such mud! It was the kind of mud that adds an extra quarter inch to your height with each step.

This was my first visit to Malakal and Renk, and the purpose was to get acquainted with the area, find out and see what kinds of agriculture projects are going on, and identify the vision the diocese has as well as agricultural potential for future projects. We had meetings with organizations, and with diocesan leaders, andi visited diocesan facilities and farms. I got to give an introduction to agriculture lecture to primary school students in Malakal, and a short, two-hour workshop to the students at Renk Theological College, and members of the Mother’s Union. We talked about how a pastor can take on the role of an agriculture advisor, and we went out to talk about specific techniques in the Mothers Union garden. We also spent some time talking about attitudes of abundance, and looking for the resources and the opportunities existing in their own congregations.

Through our time in Malakal and Renk we were shown wonderful hospitality by each diocesan staff, and the Mothers Union. Mama Rebecca, a deacon and Mothers Union leader in Malakal, accompanied us on the whole trip. She kept us all in order on the journey. She speaks six languages, and talks about God with just about everyone she meets. She carried a thermos of tea with us, she doesn’t like tea herself, but she had it there for us and others she met on the way.

Between Malakal and Renk we took a boat on the Nile, because the roads there are impassable this time of year. The river ride was amazing, both coming and going. Downstream it took 8 hours, upstream it was 25 hours, but I didn’t get tired of seeing the smooth surface of the Nile, the horizon of reeds and water hyacinth, the sun and clouds, the sunset, and the moon and stars all reflected on the glassy surface of the water. As the sun set, Mama Rebecca served tea to several passengers, dishing out milk and sugar. I couldn’t understand the language, but I could tell she was telling stories from the Bible.

On this trip, like Kajo Keji, I was again struck by both the beauty of creation, and the power of people. As we look around us we can choose to see only the suffering and vast need, or we can open our eyes to see also the effort, unity, and love both great and small shown by the people. Mama Rebecca’s thermos of tea is a great symbol of this for me!

Kajo Keji

2009-08-18T02:11:00.000-07:00

I just spent several days in Kajo Keji diocese, which is near the border with Uganda. The diocese requested that I come put on an agriculture workshop for their theological students, and the diocesan leadership. Archdeacons and rural deans came from all over the diocese, some riding bicycles for many miles to get there. We spent two full days in lectures and doing agriculture labs. We made a compost heap, mulched a pineapple field, made and applied a garlic based natural pesticide, made a level for marking a contour on a hillside, and planted a contour hedge of peas to control erosion. We also spent time discussing designing projects that run on little or no funding, and about attitudes of land stewardship and looking for the abundance God has blessed us with. As always, hearing the stories, ideas, and questions of the participants taught me a lot.

Kajo Keji is a beautiful place. The mangos there are in season 4 times a year! So I saw the strange sight of ripe mangos and mango blossoms on the same tree. There are beautiful tree covered rolling hills, and the temperature always seems perfect. Just being there was a chance to drink in the peaceful beauty of the rural landscape. It was difficult to leave the new friends I made there, and the inspiration the ambient sense of peace seemed to bring me. But I find, now back in the hustle and bustle of Juba, that that sense of peace is lingering.

There is much to be thankful for. Blessings come in unexpected ways. I realized a few weeks ago, that the lack of funding for our agriculture programs this year, has actually taught me about designing simple volunteer driven programs, and has led me to look for the abundance God has given us in new ways. Here is the abundance I see most readily this week: people! It is not the few and the powerful that change the world, it is each and every one of us. We each have the decision every day to love to give to serve. And our decisions inspire others. I met church leaders and students and staff members in Kajo Keji that inspired me with their commitment and their daily decisions to serve and care and give.

Mid-Year Reflections

2009-07-07T06:57:00.001-07:00

I have been blessed in my work to see a vast amount of southern Sudan. I have visited 19 of the 24 southern dioceses, and logged more than 150 hours on the wild pot-hole strewn dirt roads. It is a tremendously diverse landscape, from black rock mountains in Eastern Equitoria, to dense forests in Western Equitoria, to the tree scattered grassland of Lakes state, to the flat dry plains of Jonglei to the largest seasonal swamp in the world that stretches across several states. The wilderness of southern Sudan is vast. You can drive hours without seeing a single hut.

There are hundreds of people groups and languages in Sudan. There are tribes that are solely agriculturalists, and tribes that are solely livestock herders. There are villages placed on top of rocky mountains for security, villages along fertile rivers, and villages of huts spread far apart on the plain. I have seen the houses of the fabled three little pigs, made of grass, sticks, and bricks: grass walls where people fear attack so they can escape through the walls, houses of sticks in IDP camps with a roof made of a tarp, houses of bricks in villages that have security and prosperity.

It's hard for people in the developed world to imagine what life in a village of huts is like. Most people survive on subsistence agriculture or livestock herding, but there are always shop keepers as well. Living in a hut does not make someone impoverished. Many of the bishops here live in huts, because no other housing is available. It is the lack of schools and medical care which deeply affects people's quality of life. No matter how far out we have gone, even days of driving past nothing but wilderness and occasional villages of thatched huts, to the most rural areas, you still find the same influences from the outside world: coca cola, western clothing, cell phones, and plastic bags.

Life in Juba is different. It is busy and there are traffic jams, lots of shops, buildings springing up everywhere, but it still has the feel of a country town, a country town with a million people. On my way to work I pass some nice air-conditioned shops, and shops in sheds, and a man who has a copy machine on a rickety table under a tree. There are piles of garbage along the streets, which slowly get cleared only to be replaced. Juba is spread out enough that people grow some food in the open spaces and yards. There are only two paved roads in juba, not more than 2 miles long, which are also the only paved roads in south Sudan. Everything that is sold is trucked in from Uganda, over the most impossible dirt tracts with potholes the size of elephants that fill with water, and rickety bridges, which means prices are highly inflated. Juba is one of the most expensive places to live in Africa. The city feels quite safe during the day, but it’s not a good idea to go walking after dark, which is 7pm year-round, this close to the equator. Most of the year it is hot, 90 degrees inside or outside, day or night, which means you get used to it. But this time of year cool spells come with the rain.

Conflict in south Sudan continues, though we don’t see it in Juba, we hear about fighting in the rural areas near by. Occasionally we hear of someone’s relatives who have been killed, or children abducted. The UN announced that the fighting in south Sudan is now more violent and deadly than what is going on in Darfur. Death from treatable diseases also continues to be high, with child and maternal mortality rates some of the highest in the world. Without peace there cannot be development. Pray for peace!

I am still loving my job. I am inspired by the bishops and pastors of the church, who work tirelessly without pay. I love giving workshops on sustainable agriculture. I love making connections between organizations working in agriculture, and dioceses who want to do agriculture projects. I love the process of developing the details of a plan for the ECS Agriculture Department, when the vision came from the bishops and the people. I love working in the demonstration garden I’ve started. I love the enthusiasm for agriculture I encounter at every turn. There are challenges too. Banking issues have prevented us from receiving donor funding for our department, so I am still the only staff member of the department, and we haven’t been able to start our larger scale production projects. I struggle to keep up with the daily tasks of the office, often falling behind, and getting overwhelmed.

Learning what life is like for other people in the world, realizing that more than half of the world’s population lives on $2 a day or less… this is important. It’s not about guilt. I don’t think that guilt helps. But I do know that Jesus leads us by his example, out into the world, into relationship with people who we think are different from us. Jesus broke the rules of society to cross the barriers his culture put up, to embrace the outcast and the suffering. Christ came not with wealth and power, but as a poor manual laborer who started life as a refugee. He radically challenged the established, the wealthy, the powerful, and the comfortable. He spoke strongly for justice peace and reconciliation.

When we open our eyes, and our hearts, we see that every last person on earth is the same, a beloved child of God. Fixing or changing people or the world is not our work. Our work is to be agents of reconciliation, love, peace, and hope in everything we do, in the way we live our lives! And it is a calling of great joy! I struggle with this as much as the next person. It’s good to remember that being the love of Christ to the next person who walks into my office, is probably more important then my project planning!

Egypt

2009-06-17T17:10:00.000-07:00

I just got back from a week in Egypt with my sister Audrey, and our long-time friend Melissa. The pyramids and the sphinx and the tombs and temples were absolutely breathtaking! I still can’t believe we were there! After climbing in and out of pyramids and tombs and up and down the 5 floor walk-up hostel we were staying at, and riding camels, we were quite sore, but it was all worth it! I have never seen anything so amazing! I look at this picture and still can’t quite believe it.

Audrey then came and spent a week with me in Juba. We did workshops, went on a couple road trips to Lainya and Rokon, met with teachers and bishops, and visited the one swimming pool in town! It was wonderful to have her and share what my life is like here.

A Joke!

2009-06-07T14:03:00.000-07:00

I have a joke to share with you. Bishop Alapayo has told it to me twice, because I asked for a repeat performance.

There was a pastor in a rural church, and there was an old woman who went to his church who lived alone. She had a cat who she loved very much, so one day she took the cat to the pastor and said, “I love this cat very much, and I want to make sure that he goes to heaven with me, so I would like you to baptize him.” The pastor was surprised, and tried gently to tell her that he couldn’t baptize a cat. But the old lady insisted, and said, “you know this cat is very important to me, it would make me so happy if you baptized him, I would put an iron sheet roof on the church.” Well, the pastor thought about it, Why not? And so he baptized the cat, and the old lady was good on her word, she fixed up the church properly, and everyone was very happy. But then the bishop heard about the cat. He called the pastor to him, “What is this I hear about you baptizing cats!” “Well, your Lordship it was only one cat, and now we have iron sheets for a roof.” The bishop continued to scold the pastor thoroughly. Then a few weeks later the bishop was visiting the church. “Oh, pastor,” he said, “What has happened to your church?” The pastor smiled and said, “remember that cat I baptized?” And the bishop said “Bring that cat to me, and I will confirm it!”

Ok, so it’s probably not as funny without Bishop Alapayo telling it. My favorite part is the “Oh Pastor,” the way Bishop Alapayo says it, and the way you can see the punchline building in his grin and the twinkle in his eyes. And then he tells the punchline again, and we laugh again. In my family we like to retell punchlines too!

Part of the humor of the joke is how important roofs are here. The vast majority of villages in south Sudan are made up entirely of thatched buildings. Houses, schools, churches, stores all thatched buildings. I have seen some impressively huge thatched structures. But thatch has to be replaced at least every 3 years, and mud buildings get infested with termites and bats, and have to be rebuilt at least every 10 years, and it is a lot of work, and a lot of materials. So an “iron sheet” roof, which we would call “corrugated tin”, and which is actually zinc, is the desire of every church that meets under a tree or a thatched roof. In communities where no other building has a permanent roof, the people make the church roof their first priority.

Pray for Peace

2009-06-03T13:51:00.000-07:00

The UN has officially recognized death tolls from violent conflict are now higher in south Sudan than Darfur. Leaders in the government as well as other leaders including Archbishop Daniel, have sounded the alarm that the peace agreement which ended the longest running civil war in Africa in 2005, is now in danger of failing. But there is still hope!

Please pray for the peace process, pray for the leaders of Sudan, pray for the Church, pray for the people.

ECS Agriculture Gifts

2009-06-02T17:17:00.000-07:00

For those of you interested in supporting the specific projects of the ECS Agriculture Office, here is your opportunity!
Click Here for a brochure that has funding options from $40 to $70,000 to support the work of the agriculture department of the Episcopal Church of Sudan, which I am helping to establish. If you are interested, please contact Frank Gray (info on brochure).
(photo: demonstration garden at the ECS guest house, paid for by small gifts fundraising)

God can revivie us!

2009-06-01T17:46:00.000-07:00

The hot winds blew across the parched ground. The rains are late this year in Abyei. There are scattered scrub trees, but the grass has long since been grazed to nothing on the flat, dry plain. We gathered at the site of the ECS church and school, which were destroyed in violence that flared one year and two weeks ago. The church is now just a grass mat shade structure under a partially burned tree, with indistinct piles of rubble around. The mother’s union came to greet us with song, dance, and welcome banners carefully lettered in English and Arabic. Just like churches everywhere, the ladies wore nametags, and just like churches across Sudan coming to greet their Archbishop, they jumped and danced and clapped and sang with glee. The Sunday school came out in a line, dancing and singing with hand-cut tissue paper flowers in their hair. There were cold sodas, and loud speakers. Everyone wore their best clothes. It was a celebration of great joy.

Bishop Francis Loyo of Rokon Diocese was with our delegation. He had been the ECS representative sent to Abyei last year to distribute emergency assistance after the conflict. He spoke to the people, “Following Christ is not an easy task. It is founded on suffering.” Bishop Loyo is a man of tremendous faith, and unquenchable joy.

One of the representatives from the government addressed the gathered congregation, “Despite everything we have suffered, we still trust in God who can revive us.”

God can revive us! That thought has remained with me. As in the other desperate and conflict torn places in southern Sudan, there was unexpected hope and abundance among the ashes.

Visiting Abyei was part of the Archbishop’s tour of Wau diocese. We spent a week in the town of Wau for a diocesan meeting. It was the longest I’ve spent in any town besides Juba, and it was a bit like going on a short term mission trip with the staff from the provincial office, and several bishops. We spent a lot of time chatting together, meeting people, and putting on workshops. A group of women priests (photo above) waited on us hand and foot, and it seemed as though a goat or sheep was slaughtered every night for a feast. When we left, we were presented with gifts. The men received walking sticks, and I was given a beautiful carved tea tray, and an embroidered bed sheet. This is the paradox of mission work, you go to serve, give, and work, and in turn you are served, given gifts, and revived!

God can revive us! This is a theme that has entered my agriculture workshops as well. It has surprised me how closely agriculture and theology can be related. Without realizing it was happening, the lessons I have learned traveling with the Archbishop have worked their way into my teaching. Peace, development, and agriculture improvement do not come from stuff, they come from a changing of the human heart, and that is the work of the Spirit. Should we pray for our land? Should we pray for the knowledge to help revive it? Are the answers already written in creation around us? Yes, yes, yes! Our job—each one of us, as members of the human race who hope for a better tomorrow—is to plant the seeds. We can plant the seeds of hope in everything we do. The Spirit will water them.

Q&A with 7th Graders in Georgia

2009-05-22T09:33:00.000-07:00

My cousin Hayley’s 7th grade advanced social studies class at West Side Magnet School in LaGrange, Georgia sent me questions about life in Sudan. Some of our conversation is included below. If anyone has more questions, you can leave a comment on this post, and I’ll answer.

”What food do you eat?”
Stew, roasted meat (goat or cow), greens, rice, stiff porridge of flour, bread, beans, fruit, and vegetables.

”What is the weather like in the place you're at?”
In Juba it is hot all the time 80-100 degrees. The rainy season started in April, and we get a good storm a couple times a week. The rain will last until November here in Juba. Climates vary tremendously across Sudan. With tropical forest, grass land, mountains, the largest swamp in the world, and desert.

“What are the conditions for people?”
In south Sudan the situation is dire for many people. Returning refugees do not have access to the food and water they need. Education and health care facilities are rare and poorly staffed when they exist. Maternal and child mortality are some of the highest rates in the world. Hunger is widespread.

”What is your job, specifically, in Sudan?”
I work for the Episcopal Church of Sudan, which is the largest Christian denomination here. I work for the provincial office, which is the office of the Archbishop for all of Sudan (north and south). I am a missionary of the Episcopal Church USA, assigned here to work for the Archbishop at his request. I am an agriculturalist, and so my job is to start an agriculture department for the church. I have been helping in the planning process for larger scale food production projects, and I assist the regional bishops with training and advising for their agriculture programs. I do workshops with subsistence farmers and pastors, teaching them improved farming techniques, that allow them to increase their food production without having to purchase expensive inputs (sustainable techniques like composting, mulching, adjusting plant density, etc). I spend most of my time traveling in the south to the rural areas. When I am at home in Juba, I attend a lot of meetings, and work in the office.

”Do they have any similarities to us? If so, how?”
People everywhere are essentially the same they have the same concerns: family, friends, making a living. People argue and tell jokes, they go to work, they go shopping, kids play games and make toys out of anything they can find. Soccer is the favorite sport. People go to church, sing songs… the similarities are endless. There are 5 kids in the family I live with and we don’t speak the same language, but we still play tons of games together, and laugh all the time.

”Life is obviously different there; how did you adapt?”
Its not so hard to adapt. The food is different, but good. Learning the meaning behind different sayings and how to be polite is difficult at first when you come to a new culture. What is difficult now is worrying about the future of the country and the increasing violence. But it is also hard missing my family and friends.

”Where and how do you get most of your water from?”
At home we have running water in the house. When I am traveling in areas that don’t have running water, someone goes and hauls water by the bucket from a hand-pump well, or from a river. Many diseases are spread in water, so drinking water must be boiled or purchased.

”What is your living system (daily routine?)”
When I am in Juba, I get up around 7, have tea with family I live with, drive or walk about ½ mile to the office. Where we have power, internet, printers, scanners, etc. I research on the internet, communicate with bishops and others about projects, planning (calling, meeting, writing). When I am traveling, which is more than ½ the time, it is different. We drive down dirt roads, stay in local accommodations which are usually tukls (huts), we are greeted by the people, eat, meet with bishops, tour the diocese, see agriculture projects, conduct workshops, and pray together.

”Do you know anyway that we may help?”
You can write to President Obama and to your Members of Congress and Sentors. Tell them that the Comprehensive Peace Agreement in Sudan is in danger of falling apart, and the country going back to war. Remind them that the US is one of the countries that signed the agreement as a guarantor of the peace, and it is our responsibility to do something before it is too late.
You can also give money to groups working in Sudan. And you can pray for Sudan.

Special thanks to Hayley for organizing this discussion, and to she and her classmates for their concern for the people of Sudan!

Hope and Fear

2009-05-21T16:30:00.000-07:00

More than 1,000, possibly more than 2,000 people have been killed in south Sudan in tribal clashes over the last two months. It is hard to know for sure, because it doesn’t seem to be on the news. And the LRA is still killing and spreading fear throughout Western and Central Equitoria states. I have noticed that the conflict in Darfur has captured the hearts and minds of people all over the world, but people fail to realize that Darfur is part of Sudan, and if there is no peace between the north and the south, there will be no peace in Darfur. The peace today stands uncertain.

The Archbishop of Sudan, Daniel Deng Bul, sounded the alarm this month in a letter to the international community. “Arms smuggling, re-armament and incitement of tribal violence is being carried out by enemies of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement… Why is the international community allowing this violence to continue? I beseech you to act now to prevent it and protect the peace of my people.” (full text)

The Archbishop is a man of tremendous vision, and I am honored to be working for him. In his first year in office he has been working tirelessly and without pay to bring development to Sudan. But development work cannot happen in the presence of violence and insecurity. I had an agriculture workshop scheduled today, which was canceled because of insecurity in the area. Now, as the CPA is threatened, the Archbishop has become an outspoken advocate of peace. Last week, the front page of the Juba newspaper had his photo and the title, “Church sounds the alarm”. He is struggling to find the means to travel to some of these conflict torn areas to preach about peace, and reconciliation. His voice makes a difference. The Church makes a difference.

It is easy to feel hopelessness in the face of mounting uncertainty for the future of Sudan. It is easy to see only the bad things that are happening anywhere in this world. But this week, I am inspired by this leader who stands firmly with the Gospel message of peace and reconciliation. And I am honored that my presence here is helping support the programs of the Church, which bring hope.

I had my first agriculture workshop last week in the diocese of Lainya. I met with 17 pastors and lay leaders for a day-long discussion and practice. We started with a bible study on passages that talk about stewardship of the land, and a discussion. “We need tractors, tools, seeds…” this is a refrain I have heard everywhere. But this time, we used it as an opportunity to talk about what they do have, and how God might be calling them to act with what has been provided in creation around them. One thing we came up with was that they could plant a teak plantation using seeds from the wild trees, and use that for an investment for the church and the pastors. We also went out into the field to observe and practice some improved techniques. By looking and evaluating, the participants came up with 7 different benefits of mulch! Convincing people to mulch instead of burn is one of my priorities as an agriculturalist. Since we talked about what happens in both mulching and burning, and looked at the results, and connected that to what we read in the bible about learning from creation, it seems to have made an impact. It was a good and hope-filled day.

God has been moving in my heart on the subject of hope. As I sat praying a few days ago, demanding answers to my worry and longing, a single word came to me – patience. And all my questions and demands of “why” and “when” and “how,” seemed to be clouds of darkness and confusion, and at the center of it all was a dazzlingly beautiful light, that was the love of God. This seemed to be the answer to my questions… take a step back, remember what is important. I find it immensely difficult to trust God, because after all, bad things happen to good people. But this picture in my heart is a reminder. There is no truth in these questions I ask, no hope. Hope is in the love of God, everywhere and eternal.

Patience is a choice, focusing on the love of God is a choice. I have been frustrated that I don’t find these choices to be natural. It takes me whispering the words “rely on God” before I can even consider that patience is a choice! But I think this is the work of life to which we are called. We can choose whether our work is fulfilling or not, based on the choices we make every second of the day. Many of these choices are too hard, too different from our normal way of being. But we have the Holy Spirit inside us, just waiting for us to remember that we can’t do it alone.

So in spite of all that is going on, and because of it, I feel the presence of the peace which passes understanding. And I am assured that it is through our weaknesses and failings, and through the troubles and hopelessness of this world that God’s glory is revealed.

ECS Website

2009-05-21T03:06:00.001-07:00

For more news about what's going on in the Episcopal Church of Sudan, check out the ECS website
http://sudan.anglican.org/

See the Archbishop's appeal to the international community for urgent assistance in safeguarding the peace in Sudan: click here

See the planning document for the ECS Agriculture Department which I am working on establishing: click here

Frisbees and Easter Season Thoughts

2009-05-09T17:09:00.000-07:00

The five kids I live with and I made an important discovery today. The lid of the common laundry soap tubs, can be used as a Frisbee. Bul and Ayak, the oldest two, are quite good at playing Frisbee. The twins Achan and Angar, have recently become interested, and will catch it if it’s thrown to them at a range of about two feet. But the youngest, Nibol, puts us all to shame with her fierce bravery. She is two. She grits her teeth, and gets into her Frisbee stance. If the Frisbee is thrown low enough, she can stamp it out of the air, and she chucks it at least ten feet. She jumps up and down and claps her hands, and we all join in. The importance of the soap container discovery is that Frisbee has now become, to use the development work lingo, a locally sustainable game. And because the lid is lightweight, it means it doesn’t hurt if you hit someone with it. Since the Frisbee I brought is made of heavy plastic, and half our players are under the age of four, this is a big improvement! The kids (except Bul) don’t speak English, and I can only say a few things in Arabic, but we have found a common language in Frisbee, and funny faces, and games where someone pretends to be a crocodile or monster and eats the others. They also taught me a game much like “this little piggy” only it’s counted on fingers, and involves tickling at random intervals. Much to their pleasure, they have discovered I am extremely ticklish. Giggling is the universal language.

Today I took a trip out to one of our project sites in Panyikwara, and two of my friends, Rev. Charles and Tito came with me. I decided since we are friends, and it was Saturday, and the trip was 3 hours and more than 100 miles each way, that this officially counted as a road trip. So I described the importance of a road trip in my culture. Since the road was dirt, and full of potholes, I decided it could also be classified as off-roading. In order to complete the experience, we took the requisite goofy this-is-us-on-a-road-trip photos.

When we got to Panyikwara, I got to meet Charles’ family again, and this time I learned the names of his kids, and how to say “thank you for the delicious food” in Acholi. His youngest Odira, is the exact same age as my nephew, not quite two. I loved watching him, and realizing that my nephew has probably learned some of the same motor skills these months I’ve been away. When Charles handed him a little money, I was amazed, that he toddled off to the corner store (only 100 yards from the house), to buy a cookie. We did get down to business by discussing the salary structure the employees were proposing, and we engaged in a discussion with the county ag advisor about aide and whether people value things that are free. We also attended part of a workshop on seed production.

Charles is leaving to start seminary in Uganda tomorrow. I am happy for him, but sad for all of us who will miss him. Nearly every trip I have been on around Southern Sudan, Charles has gone too. And I have come to rely on his eternal optimism, constant laughter, and unquenchable joy. His cheerfulness seems to provoke my crankiness when I am frustrated or haven’t had lunch yet, and he has put up with me with patience and good humor. Every day, he reminds me “It’s in God’s hands.” Charles, and most of the pastors of the Episcopal Church of Sudan sacrifice so much to do the work they feel they are called to do. I am constantly humbled by Charles’ cheerful sacrificing.

There is God. This answer comes at the end of a week I have found difficult. This week I have felt more susceptible to cynical and hopeless trains of thought. The violence in Jonglei state is escalating, with more than 1,000 killed in the last two months. But violence in other areas continues too, with the LRA in Western Equitoria, and fighting over cattle raiding in several other states as well. We met more IDPs in our visit to Lainya last weekend, displaced by the LRA. I have found it hard not to focus on the question “why?” I have found it hard to believe in the peace. But into this struggling searching frame of mind, today comes the Frisbee discovery, and five giggling kids, and travels with friends.

As I sit here writing to you, my heart is full of a renewed sense of joy. Whenever I write to you I am reminded of your love and prayers which sustain me daily. I am reminded of all the things I love about my home and my diocese, all of you, and this job. And I am honored again to be entrusted to this work, to be the physical presence of the love you have for the people of Sudan. And that work I think is just as much about throwing Frisbees as it is about teaching agriculture.

God is all around us, calling to us in the beauty and wonder of humanity and creation. Some days it’s easier to see that than others. But if God is there, solidly present in hope and joy and the peace which passes understanding, even in the homeless shelter in Atascadero, and in post-Katrina Mississippi, and in impoverished Central American villages, and in post-war Liberia, and in conflict-ridden Sudan, then surely God is everywhere, and God’s love can redeem it all. We are not living in a world where evil and death and hopelessness get the final word. We are living in a world of Easter. Christ is risen indeed!

Peace Journey to Easter

2009-04-20T05:56:00.001-07:00

The convoy of three flat bed semi-trucks, half a dozen pick-ups and SUVs, and assorted government and police vehicles, thudded over potholes, fish-tailed through muddy slews, trundled over bumps and rocks, and occasionally zigzagged out into the bush or open plain searching for a passable route, all the while accompanied by the sound of drums and song coming from the 200 singing evangelists aboard the semi-trucks. In all we were, the Archbishop and his wife, three bishops, a hand full of staff, at least 30 pastors, and the 200 strong marching choir. In a week and a half we traveled approximately 550 miles, averaging less than 20 miles per hour, through forest and plain and swamp, across territory plagued by cattle raiders and rogues, stopping at every village and town to greet the crowds who came to welcome us, preach about reconciliation, and pray for peace and justice. This was the Archbishop’s peace, reconciliation, and evangelism tour of Jonglei state.

The Episcopal Church of Sudan is praying for Jonglei State in this time of insecurity. In March more than 750 people were killed, and on Palm Sunday 40 were killed in one village. Cattle raiders ambush the cattle keepers, kill them, and steal the cows, then fighting breaks out between the groups.

We set out from Juba on Holy Wednesday. On Maundy Thursday we were in the town of Bor, which is the capitol of the state. Our marching choir, the “Youth Mamas”, and the youth of Bor, led a prayer march around the town. We stopped, and the Archbishop prayed first at the hospital, then the prison, then at the government offices. Finally we ended up at the town square, where the bishops led a prayer and preaching rally, attended by thousands of people.

Most of the church women in Sudan and some of the men, carry crosses with them. They wave them when singing songs, hold them aloft in testimony, or just hold them as a tangible reminder of their faith. As we traveled along the road, I saw that people carried their crosses not just to church, but everywhere they went: walking to the next village, collecting firewood, hauling water… I wondered if they clung to their crosses because of the insecurity. The Archbishop told me it had become the way they lived their lives—carrying the cross. I was presented with a cross by one of the women, because I greeted them in the name of Jesus, in the Dinka language. So on Good Friday, I had a cross to carry and wave.

One of the villages we stopped at on Good Friday was the village of Kapat, where 40 people had been killed by thieves less than a week before on Palm Sunday. Jerry Drino tells me that some of our Sudanese brothers in the Diocese of El Camino Real lost family members in this village. It is a small village, and the people were obviously crushed by such a tragedy. And yet the Mother’s Union still came out to greet the delegation, singing and waving their crosses. We stayed a bit longer at this village. One of the women was asked to pray, and though I couldn’t understand the words, I could hear the passion of her faith behind her tears, and it moved me deeply. With the cross in my hand and Kapat on my mind, I thought about the meaning of Good Friday. And it seemed that this path we were on was the way of the cross. The suffering and fear and despair along the path is too great for us to bear. But Christ has borne it, and the people have found comfort carrying the cross of Christ.

On Easter, our open-air service in the village of Wangulei was attended by nearly 5,000 people. We continued northward to places so remote they had never been visited by an Archbishop or any dignitary. But the church was still there, cut off most of the year by impassable roads. We passed the conflicted boarder between the Dinka and Nuer tribes, into the Nuer territory. In the town of Ayod we were greeted by the choirs of 4 different denominations, for a wonderful display of Christian unity. We stayed two days, and I noticed the feeling change as we were there. Excitement and hope were building. The Youth Mamas were a particularly powerful witness, made up of many different tribes, on a mission together for peace. People were gathering where the Youth Mamas were camped-out to talk with them and learn from them. The people insisted we stay an extra night so they could slaughter a bull for a feast. The local witch doctor cast aside his magic accessories, and went to the Youth Mamas for prayer. 63 people were confirmed, three evangelists were commissioned, and three people ordained. And after the prayer rally, 5 thieves were caught. The group that gathered to see us off was a very different group indeed than the one that greeted us. Their faces were alight with something I had not noticed earlier—hope, courage, joy.

It was a Holy Week of walking in the way of the suffering, and it was an Easter Week of transformation by the risen Christ. The problems continue in Jonglei, with another clash in the east two days ago, and reports of more than 500 killed. But into this broken and hurting world we proclaim the hope of Christ crucified and risen. And I can tell you with certainty that that hope makes all the difference.

The Youth Mamas

2009-04-20T05:30:00.000-07:00

While in my culture the phrase “Youth Mama” might refer to a teenage mother, in the Episcopal Church of Sudan it is a group of marching singing evangelists. The Youth Mamas are made up of youth (into their 30s), Mothers Union, and old women and men. They come from many different tribes, they come from different places around Sudan, and they come together to share their love of Jesus and their passion for preaching the Gospel of love, reconciliation, peace and unity wherever they go. They perform choreographed song and dance routines, they march, and the travel far and near on the backs of semi trucks, carrying their food and mattresses too.

Their costumes may look strange to westerners, but there is powerful symbolism. The colors are the colors of the Sudan flag. They wear crowns of the Prince of Peace, emblazoned with the dove of peace. The over dress (in this case white) is part of the traditional clothing in many parts of Sudan. And because they all are wearing the same thing, it shows the unity among them, across the tribes of Sudan, and among the believers. They march in formation, an army for prayer, and army of peace.

I had the great honor of traveling with the Youth Mamas as part of the delegation accompanying the Archbishop on his peace, reconciliation, and evangelism mission to Jonglei State. Wherever we went, the Youth Mamas brought enthusiasm, hope, joy, and life to grieving communities. People just couldn’t get enough of them. In the evening people would search them out wherever they were staying, just to be near them, to talk to learn, to pray.

I would challenge anyone to not want to be an evangelist after traveling with the Youth Mamas! I have been wondering what lesson the Church in the US could learn from the Youth Mamas. Evangelism is very different in our different contexts, but we could use some of the Youth Mama’s courage, conviction, joy, and enthusiasm. They know in their hearts that Jesus’ message of forgiveness, love, peace, and reconciliation is the only thing that will be able to bring their people together, who have been torn for so long by tribalism, violence, and war. Perhaps in our country we have lost touch with the urgency and relevance Jesus’ message has in our own context. We could all use a little more peace, love, reconciliation, forgiveness, joy, hope… and not in a “it would be nice” kind of way, in a “the future of the world and humanity depends on it,” kind of way!

Prayers for Jongoli

2009-04-19T07:39:00.001-07:00

Please join the Episcopal Church of Sudan in praying for the people of Jongoli State. Violence has been escalating with an estimated 750 killed in March, and more than 100 already this month.

Photo: Archbishop Daniel and Bishops Nathaniel, Paul, and Ezekiel gather with people representing the 6 tribes of Jonglei to pray for peace, during a recent peace rally in Bor.

BBC Article: Sudan Cattle Clashes Kill 750

Bwana Asifiwe!

2009-04-07T06:46:00.000-07:00

That’s Swahili for “Praise the Lord!” That and “Asante sana” (thank you very much) were the two most important phrases I learned on my recent trip to Tanzania. I got to be a part of the inaugural visit for the three-way diocesan companion relationship between our diocese (El Camino Real), the diocese of Gloucester, and the diocese of Western Tnaganyika. It was a small group of us, Bishop Mary and one of our cannons Brian from our diocese, and Bishop Michael, along with several people from Gloucester. At every turn we were overwhelmed with the generous hospitality and kindness bestowed on us, not only by Bishop Gerard and his wife Margaret, but by everyone we met.

We were greeted at the airport by a reception line that stretched from the plane all the way to the terminal. And outside the terminal we were greeted by throngs of people who were singing, dancing, cheering, and waving branches. The women were wearing special outfits they had made for a march for women, and I noticed that they cheered extra loud when Bishop Mary was introduced to them. The crowds of people piled into the backs of pickup trucks, and the singing and dancing continued as our convoy processed down the road. Children along the side of the road joined in the dancing as we passed. And that was just the beginning.

I’ve put off writing this reflection, because I can’t imagine being able to capture this experience in words. I think the best descriptor I can come up with is—the fruit of the Spirit. Bishop Michael envisioned this relationship, linking an African, American, and English diocese, as a way of bridging the divides that threaten our beloved Anglican Communion. Being in communion is in the end about relationship, and these three bishops are building a strong relationship, working through difficulties, discussing the issues that divide us, but most of all, walking together in prayer, faith, love, and joy.

Throughout the week, we visited church after church and school after school, where we were greeted with more of their unparalleled hospitality. The choirs sang songs they had composed for the occasion, the dancers pulled out all the stops, even dancing with pots of fire on their heads at one school. But it wasn’t all moving from place to place, there was also time for discussion and reflection. Bishop Mary and the women in our group had a meeting with a group of women from around the diocese, who wanted to know more about what our lives were like, and share some about theirs. There was also time to visit school children. Mary, Brian, and Michael visiting one kindergarten, presented each child with a cross. And each child in return, performed the traditional greeting of an elder—“Shikamoo” while placing their small hand on your head.

One day was set-aside for the bishops along with the leadership of the diocese, and the visitors to sit together and discuss the issues of the church and share stories. It was a meaningful and open conversation, at times touched by passionate disagreement, or hearty laughter, but the underlying trust, respect, and relationship that had already developed was always present. I kept thinking that what I was witnessing was the knitting back together of the Anglican Communion. Bwana Asifiwe!

On the last day, Bishop Gerard said, “We have been on the mountaintop, I wish I could build three tents, for us and Moses and Elijah, but the time has come for us to come down off the mountain, the world is calling to us, and there is work to be done.” His words spoke deeply, I think, to each of us. As is the case with mountaintop experiences, coming down I felt differently about a lot of things. We speak of being brothers and sisters in Christ, and that has had some meaning to me in the past, but it is much more real to me now. This relationship, cultivated by the Sprit, is deeper than a friendship. On one level, I know that I, or anyone from El Camino Real, has family now to visit in Gloucester and Western Tanganyika, but more than that, I am comforted knowing that my walk with Christ will be deepened and stretched and enriched by the conversations and journeying ahead.

After leaving Western Tanganyika, my travels took me to Dodoma, where I visited my friend Elizabeth who is a missionary there, and met many of the missionaries working in that area. It was wonderful to see their work, and to learn new things, but mostly it was wonderful to have time with a dear friend.

I return to Sudan just as excited about my work as ever, but also inspired to look for the ways that the Spirit is calling me into deeper relationships, conversations, and journeying together.

So my thought for today is—cultivate relationships with people who you consider different from you! It is of our differences and our disagreements that the Spirit weaves a most beautiful tapestry of reconciliation and redemption.

Mangos and Other Happy Thoughts

2009-03-14T09:29:00.000-07:00

In these dark and difficult times in the world, finding joy in the simple things in life is particularly important. So I will share with you some random thoughts.

Mangos: Mango season has begun. For those of you who have never happened to visit the tropics during mango season, you might say, “so what”, but for those of you who have ever tasted a mushy stringy mango freshly fallen from the tree… well, you know! I keep being presented with bags of mangos, and I have decided that this is a sign of friendship. I live in a duplex with the Archbishop and his wife Mama Deborah, and several members of the provincial staff. The Archbishop and Mama Deborah, and several of my housemates are gone traveling this week, and so those remaining are particularly concerned with my wellbeing (which is good since I still haven’t learned how to light a cooking fire). Before the group left, I was presented with a bag of mangos, and though I am not quite halfway through, yesterday evening, another bag showed up in the living room! I have always been a hoarder, but this is a plethora of mangos, which I can eat with wild abandon.

One of my housemates, and I were discussing just last evening, whose teeth were better suited for mango eating. We disagreed. He said mine were closer together (I say crammed together) and therefore better for scraping the last bit of mango away from the seed. And I said his, because the mango strings didn’t get stuck in his teeth as much. As for me, my dentist has finally gotten his wish, I floss several times a day. But I still have bits of mango string stuck in there. It is worth it. The mango season is longer in Sudan, because the well-watered mangos along the Nile start producing early. So we have almost 4 months of sticky, slimy, sweet, delicious, jucy, messy, goopy, amazingness! With flossing afterward for some of us.

Water bottle woes: At home in the states, I am practically militant about drinking tap water, and not buying water bottles. In Sudan I buy an average of 4 per day. And here, coming face to face we have two environmental dilemmas: Do I use coal to boil my own water, or do I buy bottled water… Well I’ve already answered that for the time being, because I just can’t get the coal to light. But the silver lining is that I’m finding all kinds of uses for the water bottles. I am cutting the tops and bottoms to make pots for seedlings, and planting a whole bottle with a hole in the bottom next to a tree seedling for drip irrigation. A water bottle can also make a cup and funnel if you cut the top off, but there are only so many cups and funnels one needs. Any other ideas? Juba is nearly surrounded by a mile swath of water bottles, plastic bags, and soda cans. I dream of recycling plants!

Language learning: There are at least 300 languages spoken in Sudan. Arabic being the most universal, English being the semi-universal language of the well educated in the south, and then hundreds of tribal languages. Now for a girl who found Spanish to be ten times harder than Calculus, this is daunting. My Arabic is deplorable. It consists of only the most necessary words: a greeting, thank you, water, and mango. I am making an effort, and as of today, resolved to do better. I am furthest ahead in Dinka, because one of the bishops spent several hours tutoring me, and then quizzes me whenever he sees me. My goal is to learn the phrase “I greet you in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” in as many languages as possible. This is the appropriate way to greet a group of Christians, and everywhere a visitor goes, they are expected to greet the people with a speech. So far I have mastered it in Dinka, Bari, and Acholi, which has made me very popular in certain places. The most necessary phrases after that are “thank you” a greeting, “my name is” and “I am not married”. I can also say “I teach the church people agriculture” in Dinka.

This is my job: So in the last month I attended the bishops and spouses retreat (though I am neither a bishop nor a spouse). I’ve been to England for a meeting at Lambeth palace. I’ve finished my diocesan agriculture profiles for all 25 dioceses, and the overall planning and visioning report for the ECS Agriculture Department. I’ve met with a chief, landlords, and a county commissioner, and I’ve started the budgeting process for the department. Wow, it has been a busy month! And only 5 days of it spent in an office. As Buck Blanchard would say “I love my job”. (sorry you have to be in-the-know for that one). But the point is, I love my job!

May you be overwhelmed by abundance in the world around you, may your mangos always be ripe, and may you bubble over with the joy of God!

Lambeth and Canterbury

2009-03-11T08:31:00.000-07:00

I returned last week from a couple weeks in England. I was there for a meeting, and stayed to visit a friend, and explore. The meeting was a roundtable discussion on health, theological education, and agriculture in Sudan, and the Archbishop of Sudan, three other Sudanese bishops, and some of the ECS staff, as well as partners from the US and UK were all there. The roundtable was held at Lambeth palace, the residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, just across the Themes river from the houses of parliament. It was quite an experience.

On the first evening, they held a welcome service for us at Westminster Abbey. We stood in the heart of the Abbey, surrounded by the tombs of such notable people as Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, Charles Dickens, and what seemed like most of the former kings and queens, right back to St. Edward the Confessor. The voices of the spectacular choir echoing marvelously, surrounded by all that history and wealth. There was one tomb of a missionary in Africa in the 1800s, whose body was “carried by faithful souls over land and sea”. And there we stood, being welcomed with a liturgy that included some of the favorite hymns in Sudan (“What a Friend we have in Jesus” and “Stand up, Stand up for Jesus”), and prayers written by women in Sudan.(see post script). The simultaneous juxtaposition and unity between life and worship in England and Sudan, was wonderful to behold. We are different, and yet the same. And those moments of unity, when we reach beyond our own norms to embrace each other in welcome and worship, are beautiful, and are the commonality we need in order to engage in discussion and relationship.

I am reminded again and again of the importance of prayer. Before we (the ECS community) do anything, have a meeting, drive a car, eat a meal, we pray. And that prayer helps us to stay focused on what’s really important. I was complaining about something just the other day, and one of the pastors said, “Let us pray,” and as we focused on prayer, the frustration was put back in it’s rightful place of insignificance. I am constantly amazed and inspired by the faith of the church leaders around me. “It is in God’s hands,” “God will Provide,” “It is to the glory of God,” are phrases I hear daily.

In England I also got to make a pilgrimage to Canterbury, because a friend of mine happened to be there. There is not a place in Canterbury Cathedral which is not incredibly moving. The holiness, the sense that your prayers are joining the prayers of millions of other pilgrims, is palpable. There is a simple candle that burns at the place where the tomb and shrine to St. Thomas Beckett of Canterbury, used to be, until it was destroyed by Henry VIII. Where Thomas was martyred, there is a kneeler that the Pope and Archbihshop of Canterbury once knelt on together in prayer. At the front of the Cathedral there is a chapel dedicated to the modern martyrs. There is a simple altar, and a small statue of a martyr being bared along by mourners. There is also a binder that has stories of the martyrs.

As I knelt at the chapel of the martyrs, I wanted to be overcome by sadness, morn the tragic loss of these brave and faithful people, morn the suffering and evil in this world, but I was interrupted. Perhaps because it is the place where so many have come to pay there respects to the martyr Thomas, but in that place the martyrs seemed more real to me than ever, and they seemed alive. I thought about who they were, and how they lived their lives, about the joy they felt in their walk with Jesus, about how even death itself could not tear them from the love of Christ. And that is the great secret of the martyrs isn’t it? Their foes finally kill them, as they killed Jesus, thinking that they have silenced these lovers of Jesus, these non-violent justice seekers. Only to find that even death cannot conquer the martyrs. I suppose the martyrs can be an example to us in faith and courage and all that, but let’s face it, we are always going to fall short of their example. More than anything, I think they are calling us to not be afraid, reminding us that nothing, absolutely nothing can separate us from the love of God. Not the economy or unemployment, not persecution or hunger, not our daily annoyances and frustrations, not even death can separate us from the love of God. And that is a lesson everyone everywhere can share in!

Prayers Adapted by the Cannon of Westminster from prayers written by women of the Episcopal Church of Sudan (1997) for an ecumenical day of prayer:

O God, into the pain of the tortured,
Breathe stillness

Into the misery of the displacement,
Breathe comfort

Into the hunger of the very poor,
Brethe fullness

Into the death of the innocent,
Breathe life,

Into the pain of the widowed and orphans,
Breathe Hope,

God our Father, you are the source of all truth and peace: look with mercy on your children in all the world. Purify our hearts form all hatred, falsehood and prejudice, and so guide us by your loving wisdom that peace and righteousness may be established among all nations. Come, Holy Spirit; grant us the peace of mind and soul, so that we may receive the great blessing of love, peace, and reconciliation , wherever there is conflict and loss, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen

Prayer Request

2009-03-05T04:05:00.001-08:00

Please pray for peace in Sudan, given the current events today (ICC issuing a warrant for the President).

Pray that the Comprehensive Peace Agreement between the north and the south will remain strong. Pray for peace in the continually troubled region of Darfur, and pray for the people of Darfur, now left without assistance.

Thank you.

Abundance

2009-02-10T06:06:00.000-08:00

Last week, we headed west to visit some of the dioceses affected by the LRA attacks in January.

As we began our journey, the bible passage I was reading that morning had the following “you can not serve God and wealth”. Now I had always taken that to mean, let go of materialism, and I smugly patted myself on the back for being a missionary. But in one of those paradigm shifting moments, I realized there are different ways of serving wealth. I serve wealth every day with my attitude of scarcity. I say there isn’t enough. I scale back my plans. I shake my head and say “no way”. I say, “look they have nothing.” Perhaps serving God involves looking instead for the abundance already there in the world around us, in our lives, in our relationships.

So armed with this new realization, I headed out to try to see the abundance in the world. I forgot to most of the time, but occasionally, that word abundance would sneak into my mind. Bishop Justin of Maridi took us out to meet some of the 10,000 IDPs that are living in Maridi town. Rather than set up some kind of camp with them all in one place, they dispersed throughout the community. So as we drove along there would be the normal house, a nicely maintained tukl,(traditional hut) with it’s cleared yard and assorted out buildings. And then next to it was a shelter erected from sticks with a tarp. We stopped to talk with one family. They were all women, they said the men had gone to look for food. A child in the background was grinding peanuts that the neighbor probably gave them, into the traditional peanut butter, and one of the women was cutting up some edible leaves she had found in the forest. Right then, that word popped up, abundance. Somehow 10,000 extra people are being fed in the town of Maridi tonight, with no help from outside agencies. Yes they are hungry, they are afraid, they are angry, tired, worried, stressed, and anything else you might imagine. But they are making it. The people of Maridi, especially the church, are pulling together to do what they can for each other.

The last thing I usually want to do is pray out loud, but Bishop Justin asked me to pray before we left the women. So I prayed, even though it was a language they couldn’t understand. I thanked God for their courage, for the love that they had in their hearts, for the leadership of the church, for the abundance of creation, I prayed that fear might leave and assistance come… and I can’t remember what else. I have never prayed like that before. My response to the suffering of the world has always been to ask why; and then struggle to carry some portion of that burden. Bishop Justin helped me to put that burden in God’s hands, where it belongs. And when I had done that, for a small moment before leaving, I could look those women in the eye with love rather than pity.

Abundance.

In Mundri, the first town we stopped, there are about 1,000 IDPs, but they are receiving aid, and there seemed to be more optimism there. We went and visited the new diocesan office, and it was beautiful. Expecting something much less, I was overjoyed at all they have been able to accomplish, but that was only their first priority, now they need a house for the bishop, they need to work on education and agriculture and health programs… the list seems a mile long everywhere. I told Bishop Bismarck, if that’s what they did with their first priority, I couldn’t wait to see the next!

In Ibba, the last and smallest town and diocese we stopped at, the feeling was different. There is still so much fear there. They know the LRA does not attack big towns, but Ibba is a small town, and has no cell phone service. The attack on the outlying towns around Ibba happened on January 23rd. The IDPs weren’t even sleeping under their makeshift shelters, they would leave their shelters as decoys, and sleep in the bush under a shrub. One of the little girls we met there, just stared at us without smiling. Even severely malnourished children I have met will point and laugh, but this girl didn’t. I realized that perhaps it is fear, not suffering that kills joy. It was hard to see abundance in the presence of such fear. The church leaders we met with were so shocked and happy to receive us. They had never had visitors from the US church, and they just couldn’t imagine we would come in the midst of their troubles, their welcome was certainly abundant.

On our way back we met some UN people, and heard the “unconfirmed” report that 200 LRA had surrendered just over the border, including the second in command.

In Torit, at the sight of a LRA massacre from 1995, Bishop Bernard prayed for the LRA, and for Kony himself, saying “I know you forgive him because he doesn’t know what he is doing”. I was shocked at the beauty of his prayer, because I wanted revenge not grace in that moment. So I ask you to also pray both for those affected by the violence, and for the LRA themselves, many of whom are children, or were when they started fighting.

God’s love and forgiveness is abundant. Only the most frightened, broken, and messed up people in the world know just how abundant it is.

Travels in the west

2009-02-09T06:44:00.000-08:00

I just returned to Juba, from traveling to Western Equitoria state where we visited several dioceses, and saw the situation of the IDPs (internally displaced persons, as opposed to refugees who by definition have left their country) who were displaced by the recent violence by LRA rebels/terrorists in the region.

Please continue to pray for the IDPs in this area, and for returning refugees throughout southern sudan who are suffering from hunger.

I hope to send out an update about this trip shortly, which I will also post.

Administrative note

2009-02-09T06:40:00.000-08:00

If you think you are on my email list, but did not receive the latest update titled: Travels in Sudan, than your email program may have blocked it. I have received a lot of returned messages, I think because my list is quite large.

If you would like to receive my emails, please contact me: redenney AT gmail.com

Presiding Bishop’s Call to Action for Sudan

2009-02-05T00:49:00.000-08:00

See the following article by the US Presiding Bishop, about the current situation with LRA rebels in South Sudan, and how you can get involved:

http://episcopalchurch.typepad.com/episcope/2009/01/presiding-bishop-issues-statement-on-the-situation-in-sudan.html

Bishops Jones and Gray who she mentions, will be joining us in our travels next week.

Travels around Sudan

2009-02-05T00:48:00.000-08:00

I arrived in Sudan one week ago today. It has been an eventful week. I have been traveling with a delegation from the US, Buck Blanchard from the Diocese of Virginia and Phil Darrow from the Diocese of Chicago, who are working on helping the dioceses here develop partnerships with dioceses in the US. We traveled more than 36 hours this week, on dirt roads that sometimes were so bad that the beaten track left the road and meandered out into the bush for a few miles. And these were mostly the main roads leading from Juba to Kenya, to Uganda, and to the north.

We traveled around the diocese of Torit and to the diocese of Bor last week, two of the largest dioceses in the south. In Torit, we saw the devastation left behind by years of LRA occupation, which ended about 8 months ago. Bishop Bernard hosted us, and took us to see what had been Kony’s base camp in the village of Kubi, where the people showed us a big pit not far from the church, that was the mass grave of more than 270 people who were killed by Kony in one day back in 1995. The atrocities in Kubi continued through the years until the villagers finally managed to push him out by force. We met many malnourished orphans in Kubi, and learned that there was no school in the area for them to attend.

In Torit, we traveled as far east as Kapoeta where the two Episcopal Churches in town get a Sunday attendance of more than 1,000 people each. There were many people living in Kapoeta who had been displaced from the diocese of Bor during the war. We were warmly greeted in Kapoeta and everywhere else we went with song and dance, food and beverage, speeches and prayers.

In the town of Mugwe, in Torit diocese, I saw some of the most beautiful agricultural soil I have ever seen, deep black soil, so soft you could stick your hand into it, even without tilling. Yet the people of Mugwe were starving. More than 50,000 people who had been refugees in Uganda have been resettled in Mugwe in the last year. The UN provides them with 3 months supply of food, and basic materials, but the food had run out, and they hadn’t arrived in the planting season (which starts next month), and so are left without food until the first harvest of “hungry food” in June. We sat with the church council leaders, and the pastor, and the leaders of the youth group, in their mud and thatch church. They told us about how their pastor was killed by the LRA two years ago. They were thin and tired, and the children gathered outside had swollen bellies with their ribs poking out. The youth spoke of how they were glad to be home because it meant freedom that they had never experienced, but one young lady spoke up and said “I cannot hide the truth we are starving”. The youth said that they wanted to learn about agriculture, and I promised to return with moringa trees and an agriculture workshop, and the province is planning a large-scale agriculture project for food security and income generation in that area, which will help tremendously. Bishop Bernard said “We hope that hunger will not be a problem with these people next year.” The church people have also taken matters into their own hands, planting a cassava field.

My heart was broken in Mugwe. As we drove away, I knew the church could do something for their future, and that I could help, but the weight of their suffering right now was heavy on me. I felt as though the task which God had given me was impossible, and full of heart ache. Just then, Phil said, “Look at that rainbow”. And it was as though God had set Noah’s rainbow in the sky again, it’s foot this time in a cluster of tukls (traditional huts). And it was a reminder, that my job isn’t to hold onto the suffering of the world. My job is to, as Susan Copley says, “just love the people”. And I will do my best to keep my eyes and ears and heart open. And do my best to communicate the suffering of the people to those who will pray, and to find the appropriate channels for getting assistance.

In the Diocese of Bor, I was excited to find that most parishes have some kind of small agriculture program to help the needy and give support to the pastors. In Bor they don’t know how many Episcopalians there are, but it’s more than 200,000. And the number grows and refugees return from foreign lands. At the cathedral on Christmas they had 12,000 people! A vast majority of the population are ECS (Episcopal Church of Sudan), approximately 80%. And the church does it’s best to assist the people and organize schools and agriculture projects. It was so inspiring to see the church totally alive, serving the poor, preaching love and reconciliation in a place torn by war and division… and all with so little resources.
Blessings to each of you. Thank you for your prayers, and thank you for making this work possible. And remember that you can get more involved through prayer, advocacy, and helping to alleviate hunger in your own community. We do these things, not out of obligation, but out of the love we have received in our own hearts. Because by giving we receive, and are transformed.

December Reflections

2008-12-30T13:17:00.000-08:00

As I prepare to leave for Sudan, I am both excited and sad. I am so excited about this new opportunity for transformation, for service, for discovery, and for journeying together. But it is also sad, as I have to say goodbye to ministries I have loved, especially my work with the World Mission Network of the Diocese of El Camino Real (http://worldmissionnetwork.blogspot.com/), and with the Outreach Committee and Vestry at my home parish, St. Luke’s Atascadero. And as always, it is difficult to say goodbye to my family and friends. Especially as my nephew Jacob learns to walk and talk.

This month has echoed this joy and sadness for me. I had the excitement of attending the annual conference of the organization that has given me so much training and assistance in tropical agriculture (ECHO, Fort Myers, Florida). My time there was full of new contacts and exciting new ideas and resources, which I know will be of great value to me in Sudan.

But I have also had sadness this past month from losing a friend, who passed away just before Thanksgiving. Conney, who was a bible study friend of mine, was passionate about mission work, and she helped me to discern my own call to mission. She was beloved by all who knew her, and was taken from us far too soon. She continues to inspire me by the example of her kindness, her faith, her patience, and her passion for mission.

The lesson for me this month seems to be: let go of the question “why” which only brings emptiness and longing, and move toward the question “where is God in all this?” embracing the intention to rely on God. Very little in this world makes sense, why Sudan has suffered so much, why Conney was taken from us. But truth is found in what we know: leaning on the love of God we will be comforted, acting out the love of God we will be transformed.

Sermon- Visalia Episcopal Church

2008-12-03T16:33:00.000-08:00

I preached at the Continuing Episcopal Church of Visalia on November 30, 2008
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Visalia was the parish I grew up in, and I attended St. Paul's School from pre-school to 8th grade. It was wonderful to be back with members of the congregation who I hadn't seen for 13 years. While in Visalia, I also gave a presentation at St. Paul's School, and to the Visalia County Center Rotary Club.

This sermon is based on the readings of the day (see below). I talk about where I find hope in the world, and the hope and challenge of the Gospel reading.

Click here to see the readings of the day

Isaiah 64:1-9 Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19 1 Corinthians 1:3-9 Mark 13:24-37

Sermon- St. Luke's, Atascadero

2008-11-17T15:49:00.000-08:00

I preached at my home parish, St. Luke's Atascadero on November 16, 2008
The sermon was about letting go of fear, and based on the Gospel reading of the day

Click here to see the readings

Judges 4:1-7 Psalm 123 I Thessalonians 5:1-11 Matthew 25:14-30

Life Abundant

2008-11-10T12:16:00.000-08:00

(Photo: myself speaking at a church in Kampala)
I returned Monday from my visit to Sudan. It was an amazing, and transforming experience. I have accepted a position as the “External Agriculture Consultant” for the Province of the Episcopal Church of Sudan (ECS). I will be based in Juba, which is the capitol of the south, but I will also be traveling to the 24 dioceses while working on a strategic plan for agriculture development projects throughout the Province. I will begin this position in February, 2009.

I was nervous about this trip, never having traveled alone in Africa, and uncertain about the procedure for getting into Sudan, but it was a grace filled experience of learning to let go, and depend on others. I flew from San Francisco, to Washington DC, to Rome, to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, to Kampala, Uganda, where I was met and assisted by staff of the ECS office in Kampala. Two days later, I flew into Juba, where I was met by Bishop Alapayo of Rumbek, and two other staff members of the ECS, smiling broadly, and greeting me as an old friend. I would love to paint a picture for you of the incredible functioning chaos that is Juba International Airport, a two-room airport that can function without power! But, there is much more I want to tell you.

My first three days in Juba, I spent with bishops from all over Sudan who were gathered for a two week training course. It was a great opportunity to get to know some of them, and I took the chance to interview 16 bishops about the agriculture situation and challenges facing their diocese. These bishops are remarkable people, working against tremendous odds, with hardly any resources, to heal the brokenness that divides their people, and to provide desperately needed services. During the war, Christians were persecuted, people were massacred, and yet, the Episcopal Church of Sudan kept it’s churches and 2,000 schools open amidst the conflict. Now as they struggle to build infrastructure and services, their pastors toil without pay, and many of their churches and cathedrals meet under the shade of mighty trees.

Bishop Paul from Torit preached an inspiring sermon to his fellow bishops where he said “As long as we continue to see Jesus in our midst, we will inherit a double portion of the spirit”. Bishop Ezekiel from Bor explained to me that it is the message of love, absolute love, absolute forgiveness and reconciliation, that Jesus preached, which is the message the people of Sudan need so desperately. Bishop Ezekiel’s passion for preaching the Gospel, as the healing balm that is the only thing that can bridge the divides that racism, tribalism, genocide, massacres, and war have left behind – the only thing that can bring a lasting peace to his people; is a passion that is shared by the other bishops. Three days in their presence completely re-defined evangelism for me.

For these bishops, and the 4 million Anglicans in Sudan, the power of Jesus’ message of love isn’t just a choice of religion. Jesus’ message to take up your cross and follow him, is not a vague metaphor. These are powerful messages of hope, they mean the difference between suffering and healing, life and death, war and peace. The faith that they have is not reserved for Sunday services, their faith is something that affects the way they live their lives.

I spent some time talking to Daria Kwaje, who is the ECS staff officer for The Mother’s Union. This is a women’s movement throughout the church. Members mentor and guide young mothers and those who are new to the faith, in what it means to raise their children in love of Jesus. They give assistance to families who are going through rough times, and they gather regularly to pray.

“Even though our bodies may suffer now, we thank God, because we know that he is about to do amazing things in our lives” – one of the bishops praying on behalf of the assembly.

I also visited Rumbek while I was in Sudan, this is a town in the central part of the southern region of Sudan. In Rumbek, cattle herding is the way of life. I saw the mighty cathedral tree of Rumbek, and the Bishop’s office – a mango tree. I saw children coming to the bishops house to borrow chairs, and then scampering off to their school under a tent. I saw young men and boys with semi-automatic weapons sitting alongside the road. As I walked through town with the bishop’s wife Helena, I saw stores overflowing with cell phones, bicycles, crates of soda, clothing, and many other goods, all of which Helena said had not been available just a couple years ago. I saw stray goats and cows wandering past, children carrying chairs to and from school, young men driving huge herds of cattle, men and women shopping, a huge charter bus preparing for the several day journey to Juba on impossibly muddy roads. What I didn’t see on the streets of Rumbek was heaps of garbage. Helena explained to me that plastic bags have been made illegal, and residents are required to rake up and burn the garbage once a week, because the cows can die from eating the garbage.

While reading the Strategic Plan for the Diocese of Rumbek, The following line jumped out at me. This is a passage of scripture that is the vision of the Diocese:

“I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10b).

Life Abundant! This sums up for me, my first experience of the Episcopal Church of Sudan. In spite of, or because of all that they have suffered, they live life abundantly. And we from the developed world, have so much to learn from them!

May God bless you this month with an open heart, and the eyes to see how abundant your own life is!

Beginning Again

2008-10-17T14:27:00.001-07:00

I have exciting news to share with you. I have signed up with the Episcopal Church to be a missionary again. I have a possible mission placement, doing agriculture work in Sudan. I leave on Sunday for a two-week trip to Sudan to discuss and interview for the placement, and to get a feel for the goals, challenges, and working conditions. The position is based in Juba, which is the capitol of Southern Sudan, working for the Episcopal Church of Sudan (ECS), which is a province in the Anglican Communion. The ECS has more than 4 million members, which is almost double the number of people we have in the Episcopal Church USA. I will be assisting the church to develop agricultural programs. It is a very challenging job, as Sudan has many different climates: desert, grasslands, mountains, forests, and the largest swamp in the world. Sudan is the largest country in Africa (the size of the US east of the Mississippi river), and is bordered by Egypt, the Red Sea, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Kenya, Uganda, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Central African Republic, Chad, and Libya.

Sudan has been in and out of conflict since it's independence from Britain in 1956. The peace agreement currently in place was signed in 2005 between the north and the south (the Darfur region in the west is still in the grips of conflict). The peace agreement gives the southerners the ability to vote in 2011 to become their own country. I have heard that this is an exciting time for Southern Sudan, after so many years of conflict to be working toward the birth of their own nation. However, the obstacles they are struggling with are huge: insufficient food production, water, medical care, schools, infrastructure, as well as societal issues like: racism, slavery, and dealing with extreme poverty, trauma, and tragedy. I have heard that 7 out of 10 women in Sudan are widows. As the peace holds, refugees are returning to Sudan, and with them increased need, especially for assistance starting up farming.

I am passionate about sustainable, subsistence farming. If you can help people to become self sufficient, with sustainable techniques (like mulching and composting), you help them to insulate themselves from fluctuations in the world food market. Steady food supply, and the ability to provide for their children gives people hope, and promotes peace.

After I return from this trip to Sudan, at the beginning of November, I will begin my preparations to leave for a year, which includes fundraising, and additional training in semi-arid agriculture and tropical livestock production. I am planning to begin my next assignment February of 2009.

Once again, I am beginning a journey, and inviting you to join me on it! Without your prayers and financial support, my work would not be possible. After I return from my trip to Sudan in November, I will post on my blog (www.robin-mission.blogspot.com) information about my experience, photos, a video, and a proposed budget for the year. If you feel called to financially support my work in Sudan, you can make a tax-deductible donation using the instructions at the end of this email.

I have participated in several exciting mission projects this spring and summer, including: short term youth mission trips to Nevada and Honduras, a trip to El Salvador, working for the Mission Personnel Office, presenting a workshop on tropical agriculture at the Everyone Everywhere mission conference, and writing a handbook on tropical agriculture for the Mission Personnel Office. You can read about all this on my blog http://robin-mission.blogspot.com My letters from Liberia are still posted on my blog with pictures, and I also have a final report, and financial report from Liberia posted.

In such uncertain financial times, fears are plaguing our country, and one reaction people have is to focus inward, on their own lives. But I think that in such times, our need to touch the rest of the world is even greater. My work is equally about helping those I go to serve, and about changing the lives and perspectives of those who send me through a shared experience. We have much to learn from those who have survived great loss, and from those who live in poverty. Jesus calls us to reach out, with what we have, and with our very lives. To touch others, to love, to serve, and to be transformed. This is the path I believe I am being called to, I hope you will join me! But even more than that, I hope you will find in your daily lives, the Love of God, drawing you ever outward into the world around you.

Blog Welcome Page

2008-10-01T12:28:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my Blog!
(don't pay attention to the date on this post, I will keep it up to date for new visitors)

This Blog:
You can browse old posts by date, using the archive. General and background information, videos, and files are posted as links in the blue right hand sidebar. You can leave comments by clicking on the comments button at the bottom of an article. Send me an email if you would like to be added to my email update list: redenney AT gmail.com

Current Work:
I am a missionary of The Episcopal Church, USA. I specialize in agriculture, and began my current assignment as an agriculture consultant with the Episcopal Church of Sudan in January, 2009.

For a brief bio, and description of my work in Sudan, go to the “Mission Reports” section in the blue right-hand sidebar, and choose “Flier about my work in Sudan”.

A good overview of my work is my "Mid-year Reflections" which describes life in Sudan and my work. Also see "Q&A with 7th Graders".

Read about the conflicts that have been plaguing south Sudan, and the Archbishops call for support in "Hope and Fear" and "A song of the Saints of God"

Some articles about Hope, and God moving in this place: Fruit of Hope, Abundance or Move

I posted reflections each day of Holy Week this year, during the lead up to the Elections: Easter, Saturday, Good Friday, Thurs, Wed, Tues, Mon.

My work depends on the generous financial and prayer support of others. See my Prayer requests, budget information, and how to contribute in the blue right-hand sidebar. ---->

Videos:
I have two videos, the first is Sudan the second is Liberia, in the sidebar.

Sermons:
I have sermons posted, in audio form. Go to “Sermons” in the blue right hand side bar for links to all my available sermons.
Or click here to hear one: December 3, 2008 Visalia

Past Work:
I was in Liberia, as a member of the Young Adult Service Corps (the young adult mission program of The Episcopal Church), from September 2006- August 2007. While in Liberia I worked at Cuttington University (an Episcopal institution), where I taught agriculture and worked on developing agriculture programs, and worked on agriculture and development projects with some of the local communities. I recommend the following entries:

Overview:
Under “Mission Reports” in the blue right-hand sidebar, see:

“Liberia Report Summary” for a paragraph overview of what I did in Liberia.
“Growing in Liberia- Final Repot” for a detailed report of the context, work, and projects from my time in Liberia. (I also have a pdf version which includs my letters, and photos, which I can email you if you are interested).

Letters:

Beginning reflections of my work: Hand me downs and Blessings
My struggle with finding God in the destruction and poverty around me: Where is God?
A reflection on mission work, and overview of my work: Mission
After my return, text of a sermon, talking about global poverty, crisis of faith, etc: U2charist Sermon

Sermon- St. Paul's Cambria

2008-09-29T11:13:00.000-07:00

I preached at St. Paul's, Cambria on September 28, 2008
Click here to see the readings

Exodus 17:1-7 Philippians 2:1-13 Matthew 21:23-32

Sermon- St. Martin, Davis

2008-09-07T23:41:00.000-07:00

I preached at the Episcopal Church of St. Martin, in Davis California on September 7, 2008
Click here to see the Readings for the day

Exodus 12:1-14 Romans 13:8-14 Matthew 18:15-20

Sermon- St. John's San Bernardino

2008-08-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

I preached at St. John's, San Bernardino on August 10, 2008.
Click here for the Readings

Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28 Romans 10:5-15 Matthew 14:22-33

Working in New York

2008-06-16T21:52:00.000-07:00

It has been an exciting two months! I got to work for the Mission Personnel Office of the Episcopal Church, helping them prepare for and put on the two-week orientation course for new missionaries.

It was exciting to commute into Grand Central Station every morning, navigating the teeming crowds. I loved noticing the way the Chrysler Building makes a shadow on the mirrored surface of the UN building in the early mornings of spring, as I walked to 815 Second Ave, the Episcopal Church Center. I got to walk in Central Park, explore Time Square, and visit the Metropolitan Museum. But most enjoyable of all, was staying with my friends the Copley’s, being welcomed into their home and family, learning how to rock climb and kayak, going to church, discussing mission work, and on one occasion, attempting to help with math homework.

Working at the Church Center was challenging and interesting. I loved the team spirit of the Mission Personnel Office, and the chance to get to know David, Douglas, Yanick, Michelle, and Rebecca a little better. Getting to see all the work that goes on behind the scenes made me even more appreciative of all that they do for the missionaries in the field! We are in good hands.

The Mission Orientation I attended in 2006 was a life-changing event for me. Everything was covered, from the theology of mission in the Episcopal Church, to what medical supplies to bring with you. But most important was the community of support that developed amongst the missionaries. So I was very excited to be involved in another Mission Orientation. Getting to watch and participate in that community building was wonderful. It is an exhausting, action packed two weeks, with lectures, skits, games, enactments, worship, bible study, celebration, and pilgrimage. Each one of the new missionaries brings their own passion, skills, and desire to serve. I can’t wait to get their updates, and hear about all of their transforming experiences. You can learn more about them, and see their blogs by going to: www.episcopalchurch.org/missionworks

As part of the Mission Orientation, we took the group to the “Everyone Everywhere” mission conference in Baltimore (which will be held every three years). There were more than 400 people there, involved in mission work all over the world. It was great to get new perspectives, and make connections. I got to present a workshop on tropical agriculture, and handed out nearly 100 copies of the handbook on tropical agriculture, which I wrote for missionaries (if you’d like an electronic copy of this handbook, just email me, I will try to also post it on this blog).

I returned to California just in time for my mom’s ordination, and my god daughter’s baptism. It has been an eventful two months!

Hope

2008-06-15T21:28:00.000-07:00

Hope is such an illusive thing. When I think of the terrible weight of suffering in the world, when I think of the world wide shortage of food, when I think of all the obstacles that Liberia has to overcome just to maintain it’s fragile peace, when I think of the horror that is war anywhere and it’s aftermath… hope seems so feeble and far away. And yet the presence of hope is our only hope!

Since returning from Liberia I have felt the weight of these things pressing down on my very soul. It is only in recognizing and feeling this profound sadness for the world, that I am able to also experience the profound joy of finding hope alive in the midst of all this.

This summer hope has come to me in many forms, and I want to share some of that hope with you. I have been on two different short-term mission projects with youth and young adults through the Sierra Service Project. One trip was our diocesan youth mission trip to Nevada for a week, where we worked and lived on the Walker River Piute Reservation, repairing houses, and learning something about community, service, and spiritual journeying. As the week progressed, I worried that the youth were somehow missing the experience by being caught up in their caffeine cravings and boredom and heat exhaustion. Finally on the last day I realized that the experience had happened without me doing anything to push it. That community and spiritual growth and commitment to service happened in the midst of caffeine cravings and boredom and heat exhaustion. So many times I feel like I have to move the Spirit, I forget that all I have to do is show up and look. The Spirit was there, in all of it, and that gave me hope!

I just got back from my second mission trip this summer. I went to Honduras for two weeks with a group of young adults. We built (most of) two brick houses for impoverished families in Danli. The days were long, and the work felt back breaking. It is difficult to see hope when you have sore muscles and are surrounded by insatiable need. But I saw hope in the young people in our group. They are very much members of their popular culture and times, and yet they also were willing to sacrifice, to sleep on the floor, to go without running water, to work harder than they had ever worked, and to commit their remaining energy to building relationships with local people and learning about the struggle that is life in Honduras today.

I have found hope in other places this summer too. In Tegucigalpa our group visited an organization that takes in street children. We spent a couple hours there, and it seemed to me that hope was singing out of every wall, every bouncing ball, every footstep, every laugh. The door of this facility struck me as a sacred gate: its very existence gives me hope for the world. There is a door in Tegucigalpa, and any young person who approaches it day or night, will find it open, and behind it is a world of hope, sanctuary, and love. They will find there the Love of God, incarnate, and if they choose they will be transformed by it.

I have found that the reflections Bishop Mary has written to our diocese about her time at Lambeth Conference are full of hope, hope for our diocese, hope for the Anglican Communion, and hope for humanity as we struggle to live in a global community, a global communion, bringing our different truths to the same table.

There is a door in Tegucigalpa, there is a table in Canterbury Cathedral, there are young people stepping out in service, and there is you and me. Flawed as we are, we show up, we come to the door, we come to the table, we step out of our comfort zones, and the Spirit will do the rest.

Peace and Hope,
Robin
--------------------------

Bishop Mary’s Reflections: http://www.stlukesatascadero.org/bishop.htm

Casa Alianza (A home for street children in Tegucigalpa, New York, LA, Canada, and Guatamala): http://www.casa-alianza.org/en/news.php

Sierra Service Project (youth mission trips to Native American Reservations, urban LA, and Honduras): http://www.sierraserviceproject.org/

Update and Reflection from El Salvador

2008-05-30T20:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends,
It has been 9 months now since I returned from Liberia, how the time flies! I want to thank you all again for your support. I have compiled a 30 page report of my work in Liberia which I have delivered to each of my 9 sponsoring parishes. If you would like a copy, I can email you one.

I have been keeping busy, helping coordinate a new mission network for our diocese, finding paying work here and there, and getting ready for some short-term mission work this summer. Right now I'm working at the Episcopal Church Center in New York for six weeks, helping out with the mission orientation course for new missionaries, and staying with my good friends the Copleys. In June, I'll be presenting a workshop on Tropical Agriculture at the mission conference of the Episcopal Church, called "Everyone Everywhere 2008".

I am in the process of discerning a new mission placement, which will most likely be somewhere in Africa, beginning January of 2009. I will let you know as soon as I know where I will be going! I have begun fundraising for my mission fund again (details below), to support the two short term mission trips I will be going on this summer, leading youth to fix up houses on a Native American Reservation in Nevada and to build houses in Honduras (see blog entry below). The work that I do is not my work. It is made possible every step of the way by the financial support, emotional support, and spiritual support of those who choose to journey with me. It is our work.

I got back a few weeks ago from a trip to El Salvador. I was there visiting my sisters, who are both missionaries in El Salvador now. Amy is a priest with a church and a school, Audrey does youth leadership development through agriculture, and Amy's husband Vince has a music ministry with the diocese, and coordinates mission groups who are visiting. I was there for only 10 days, but had a wonderful time. I got to see a lot of the country that I had never seen before. And I got to do a little agriculture work of my own. I talked with an agricultural engineer about the importance of the Moringa tree, and advised him on the Moringa project he has started. I also gave a workshop with a group of women who make up an agricultural work group, on the use of Moringa. (Moringa is a tree that can be used to treat malnutrition. The leaves have protein, vitamins, minerals, and kill parasites).

I also got the chance to go to some of the pilgrimage sites in El Salvador I had not been to before. The most difficult and moving experience by far was our visit to El Mozote, the site of what is considered the worst massacre in modern Latin America. More than 1,000 unarmed men women and children were rounded up on December 11, 1981, they were separated, and all the girls age 12 and older and all the women were raped, the men were tortured, and then all of them were murdered. The youngest victim was only 3 days old. Only one woman in the whole town survived. The government soldiers who planned and implemented the massacre were armed with ammunitions provided by the U.S. and trained at the U.S. Government sponsored school "The School of the Americas" in Georgia (which is still in operation under the name "Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation"). The U.S. Government claimed that reports of this massacre were propaganda, and refused to send personnel to investigate. It wasn't until 1990, when human rights groups began a project to exhume the mass graves, that the truth of this massacre was finally recognized.

We arrived in El Mozote, expecting to find a ghost town, but El Mozote is alive again. The family members of the dead, who had fled to Honduras before the massacre, had returned to rebuild. Bomb craters still litter the fields, and there are still houses that are in ruins, but there are also new houses and fresh coats of paint. There is a monument to the dead, which has the names of those whose bodies were positively identified. We were given a personal tour by a local resident. She spent a couple hours with us, showing us the places where these things took place, and telling us the story. The church, where the children had been locked up and murdered, had been burned down afterward. But the people of El Mozote built a new church. I have never seen such a church. Covering its walls are vibrant, dancing, joyful colors: colors of triumph. On one side there is a mural of the history and culture of the town. The other side of the church is dedicated to the children. It has an incredible mosaic, with children dancing and playing with suns and balloons and flowers and stars. Along the bottom of the church are the names and ages of all the children. And all around there was a garden. In the moment I saw it, it was the most beautiful garden in all the world: flowers of all different colors, roses, and benches and paths, all beautifully, lovingly tended. I wanted to sit in that garden forever. It was not joy that I felt there, for how can you feel joy when our world contains such evil. The beauty of El Mozote is in those who live, and what they have chosen to do with their grief. They have poured love over these gaping wounds. Wounds where loved ones were violently ripped away from them. They have poured love over broken, burned, and bloodstained ruins. And over mass graves they have planted gardens of love. The violence, the pain, the loss, the evil of it all cannot be washed away. But Love somehow has conquered it.

We live in a world that seems to be teetering on the edge of destruction. We are daily bombarded with the reality of increased food and fuel prices around the world, with news of conflicts, riots, disasters, and wars. And it seems that everywhere we look in the world there is injustice, oppression, hunger, and fear. Who will deliver us?

Love. It all comes down to Love. Love doesn't wash away the pain and evil of it all, but somehow Love can conquer even this.

Upcoming Mission Trips

2008-05-15T17:04:00.000-07:00

This summer I am going on two short term mission trips with youth. The first trip is to Nevada for our Diocesan youth mission trip of the summer. We will be joining other groups of youth and chaperones from the western US at Walker River Reservation near Fallon, Nevada. The program is run by a group called the Sierra Service Project. My first mission experience ever was as a chaperone on an SSP mission trip to Nevada in 2005! (Photo above) I had such a wonderful time, working with the youth, meeting the local people, and learning a little something about their heritage. And I got totally hooked on mission! So I am excited to go back, this time with a large group from around the Diocese, and with our Bishop, to help people fix up their houses, to learn about their lives, and to help youth with processing their first experience of mission. Our trip begins June 29, and ends July 5.

The second trip is a two week trip to Honduras, and is also run by the Sierra Service Project. I will be the only chaperone for this trip, but will be meeting up with two project coordinators once we get to Honduras. I am excited about this trip because the schedule includes more than just building houses. We will be working with local people, and meeting with local youth. We will also be visiting cultural centers and museums to learn about the history and people of Honduras. The youth and young adults on this trip all have some prior mission experience, but I look forward to accompanying them through what may be their first international experience. For more information you can go to the SSP Honduras project webpage: http://sierraserviceproject.org/honduras_info.htm The dates are July 14-28.

I need to raise a total of $2,440 to cover the cost of both of these trips. The cost of the program includes travel and building materials on site. If you are interested in contributing to my mission fund, which will be used to fund these projects as well as my future long term mission assignment, please see the "Financial Support" in the side bar for donation information.

Thank you for your prayers and support!

U2charist Sermon

2008-04-07T09:28:00.000-07:00

I had the great pleasure of preaching at two U2charists in the last two weeks, one in Darien Connecticut, and one in Arroyo Grande, California. A U2charist is a service to bennefit the Millennium Development Goals, and it uses U2 music throughout the service. Both services were amazing. The energy and enthusiasm was unparalleled in my church experience!

Below is my sermon from Darien, using these readings: Isaiah 58:6-9a, 1John 3:16-18, Matthew 25:31, 34-40

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My name is Robin Denney, I am from California, and I was a member of the Episcopal Young Adult Service Corps last year. I served as an agriculture instructor at a rural college in Liberia, West Africa, for one year. I very happy to have the opportunity to be here with you today.

We are gathered here today to join in the struggle against extreme poverty. Extreme poverty is something that we see in commercials on TV: dirty children with flies in their eyes. On the news we see people with their faces contorted with suffering. Sometimes our hearts are moved, but the commercial changes, and we move on with our lives.

I want to take you on a journey with me right now. I want to take you to Liberia for a few minutes. Liberia is a difficult place. Their civil war ended in 2003, and claimed the lives of 10% of the population. Poverty in Liberia is widespread, with more than 80% unemployment. The war destroyed so much, everything.

My students at the university were studying agriculture. They saw improving agriculture as the way forward for their country, and their passion and dedication inspired me. They wore western clothes, and the ones who could afford it drank beer in the evenings, sometimes to excess. Some of them cheated on their homework. They would sit around and argue with their friends about student politics and current events. In many ways they are like college students anywhere. But every single one of them, at some point in the last 15 years had a gun pointed at their head. Every one of them saw someone they cared about, murdered, and everyone one of them was forced to laugh as they watched atrocities.

My students wanted to get out into the communities and practice the development work they were learning about. So we started a community tree-planting project. We established 10 different orchards of Moringa trees, a tree that can be used to treat mal-nutrition, and my students did all of the promotion, and education with the communities. It was wonderful to get the chance to be out in the communities. The villages in Liberia are comprised of mud buildings with thatched roofs, with the occasional corrugated metal roof. The background is the tropical forests of Liberia. The women in the village spend much of their time cooking for the family. They also do a good portion of the farm work. The men work in agriculture unless they can find some other work. The children do chores like carrying the water, and helping with the cooking, but when they are not working, they are running around together. They build things, instead of using Leggos, they use garbage, and make cars that actually roll. They laugh and scream and chase each other. And if they can find a ball, they will play soccer until they fall down with exhaustion.

My students and I planted one of our Moringa orchards at a local orphanage. When we arrived with the trees, the children saw us a quarter of a mile away, and they ran down the hill, and across the rice patties to help us carry the trees. The girls were cradling the trees in their arms, and some of the boys were balancing them on their heads. I heard one girl say, “this is my tree, I’m going to water it every day.” And one of the boys said, “We’ll be eating it, and climbing it!” We showed the kids how to dig the holes and plant the trees, and pretty soon there was dirt flying everywhere, and kids running around laughing and squealing. These are real children.

One in five of these real children will die before reaching the age of five. And of the girls who survive, one in six of them will die in childbirth.

Suffering and death are things that, in our culture, we don’t expect to happen, and we are consumed by the fear that these things will happen to us. But in places like Liberia, they understand that everyone suffers and everyone dies. But they live their lives anyway, and focus on the things that matter most: relationships, caring for people, laughter, singing, dancing, and praising God.

We have so much to learn from the people of Liberia. We have so much to gain from entering into relationship with people who see life differently then we do. It’s not about feeling guilty, it’s not about having pity, it’s about opening ourselves to the experience, offering ourselves up in action. And it’s not about the outcome of our actions. The outcome of life is death. But everyone knows that it’s not your death that’s the most important thing, it’s how you live you life in between.

God’s call to us is clear in the readings we heard today:
“To loose the bonds of injustice… to let the oppressed go free, to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house.” [Isaiah 58:6-7]
From the Gospel—to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit those who are sick and in prison. And the reading from 1stJohn “Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” [1John 3:18]

Why is God calling us to do all of these things? Is it because God messed up, and we’re supposed to fix it? Let’s look back at the reading from 1stJohn. “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” We do these things, because it is in the doing, and the trying, that the love of God abides within us. and that we become part of God’s redeeming love in the world. This is an epic journey that God is calling you to: a journey of extreme action. And God is calling you just as you are, right here, right now. This is dangerous work. It will open your eyes to the suffering of the world, and once the eyes of your heart are opened, they will never be closed again. The enormity of the despair of the world is so great, it feels as though we will drown in it. But it is only in being with that despair, that we can come to understand true joy: the joy that God’s love can redeem even this!

I invite you to take your service bulletin home with you tonight, and spend some time with these readings. Listen to where God is calling you in your life.

We are gathered here tonight to celebrate the Millennium Development Goals. The Millennium Development Goals are about action. In 2000, at the largest gathering of world leaders in history, they unanimously approved the Millennium Development Goals. 189 countries said, we are humanity, and we stand united. We believe that every human being deserves a life free from poverty, injustice, and oppression. We are the world, and we have the power to change the world, through partnership and action. These goals that they agreed on are for us, the modern translation of Jesus’ call to action. And they are this: To eradicate extreme poverty, achieve universal primary education, promote gender equality and empower women, reduce child mortality, improve maternal health, ensure environmental sustainability, and develop a global partnership for development.

We each are called, as surely as Mother Teresa was called into the gutters of Calcutta, to pick up the dying and care for them. God is calling us to offer up our broken selves, just as we are. Not some day when we have our lives together, and we are prepared. Right now, just as we are tonight. Sometimes we feel like God couldn’t possibly be calling us, God only calls people who have it together, and aren’t afraid. Let me tell you, I have never been as afraid as I was on that plane to Liberia. I was sure that I had made a terrible mistake, that God couldn’t possibly be calling me after all. Throughout my year in Liberia, I was messing up, doubting God, depressed, loosing my faith, and failing at every turn. But now I see that it was through moving beyond fear that my life, my heart, my self was transformed.

God is calling you beyond your fears to be transformed by Love…and action.

What's up Next!

2008-03-21T22:08:00.000-07:00

This year I am preparing for several exciting short-term mission trips including: Honduras to lead a youth group building houses, El Salvador to visit my sisters, brother-in-law and nephew who are missionaries there and to work on a tree project, and Nevada to lead a youth group repairing houses.

I am also preparing for another year long mission trip, which I hope to leave on late this year. I do not yet have an assignment finalized, but I will be going as a member of the Young Adult Service Corps of the Episcopal Church.

My assignment will be in agriculture. I am passionate about how improving subsistance agriculture and making it more locally sustainable has a huge impact on communities. Improved production leads to better nutrition, money for education and health care, and perhaps most importantly: hope. I want to work with community members, children, and orphans, and plant demonstration gardens.

If you are interested in joining with me on this journey as a pray sponsor, or donor, please send me an email! ( redenney99 at yahoo.com) I need to raise a total of $12,000 to fund all of these projects.

If you are interested in supporting me financially, please send a check to:
St. Luke's Episcopal Church
Memo: "Missionary Fund"
PO Box 1168
Atascadero, CA 93423
(in order for the donation to be tax deductible, the check must be filled out in this way)

I will be preaching at a U2charist in Arroyo Grande, CA at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church on Sunday April 6 at 5pm. U2charist is a church service with U2 music, used to educate people about the Millennium Development Goals, and to raise money to support these goals.

Convention Address

2007-10-29T18:04:00.000-07:00

The suffering in Liberia is not unlike suffering in other places of the world. Jesus calls us out into the world, to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, visit the sick and those in prison. We are called to be a people of action, people who go out and meet the needs of the suffering.

But it’s not just about what we get done or the outcome, it’s about relationship. It’s about allowing the people we call the “least of these” into our hearts, and being willing to be let into their hearts. And then we realize that we aren’t different after all. We are the same beloved children of a loving God.

I wasn’t sure what stories to share with you from a year’s worth of experiences. But after the Bishop Elect’s sermon yesterday, I want to talk to you about my own faith crisis. I signed up to be an Episcopal missionary because I was feeling unfulfilled in the work I was doing. I thought that somehow in becoming a missionary I would be zapped with extra special faith. That I would feel the presence of God with me all the time, and all I had to do was show up.

It didn’t take me long to realize that that wasn’t how it was going to work. And in the face of the corruption, hopelessness, and the evil that had come from the Civil War, my picture of God just wasn’t big enough to hold it all. I stopped going to church… I was a missionary who didn’t go to church. And I stopped praying. I would lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, defiantly daring God to show up. And all I felt was emptiness. I became depressed. I felt as though I had mistaken my calling. I felt unfulfilled just as I had felt in my jobs in the states. And I would have given up, if it wasn’t for all of you. You supported me financially and with prayer, and read my emails. I couldn’t bear to let you down, and I wanted to be the person you believed me to be.

A friend of mine emailed me some advice at that point. It was, “I know all you feel like is lying around, but that just makes it worse, you’ve got to get out and see where it is things are going right, where your passions are.” I didn’t want to listen to her, but the other way wasn’t working. I thought about it for some time, and realized that there were a lot of things that I loved about my life in Liberia.

I was an instructor teaching agriculture at a college, and I loved my students. I so valued the relationships and the respect that had grown between us. Their enthusiasm for learning was exciting to me. And I realized that even though I was completely unprepared to be a college lecturer (I hadn’t even known that that would be what I was doing), somehow the resources always showed up. Whether it was a book or a website or a good idea, it was always enough. And I finally saw that God was there.

I also loved the time I spent with my friends. We would visit each other’s houses in the evening or go to the local bar and watch the sunset under the palm trees, and we would talk for hours at a time, because that was all there was to do. And as we talked about it, the frustrating things of the day became funny. And God was there too.

I was able to go visit some villages near the university, and I so enjoyed talking to the women, and hearing their struggles, and what their lives were really like. And I could see God in them too.

I was surprised to realize how much of my life I was passionate about, but I didn’t know how to change things so that I could focus on the things I loved best. And then something happened to shake everything up. Some of the students staged a violent protest, and school was shut down for a month. Fellow teachers and I fled from our houses and from campus, on foot, a few miles away where we sought refuge with a friend for a couple nights. The violence only lasted a couple days, and the president of the country herself came to reconcile the two sides to each other. But what I realized was that while I was afraid, what I was most afraid of was being sent home. So with the month that we were out of school, I started to focus more of the things I loved best.

I ended up spending more time in a village called Melekie. I got to know the women’s group there, and they were remarkable. Melekie is a village of about 2,000 people which had no access to safe drinking water. One of the curses of poverty is that it can rob people of the belief that they can do anything to help themselves, but these women were different. With no resources, they had built a school building out of mud and sticks to serve as the facility for a skills training institute, because they believed that through skills the women would be able to lift themselves out of poverty and feed their children. But they had no money to buy the beginning supplies. We worked together on grant proposals, and they figured out how to make their program sustainable and prepared budgets. We were able to build the first latrine in Melekie, we got two wells drilled, and two more repaired, and we got the money they needed to start skills training in four areas. We accomplished a lot. But what was most important to me was the relationships. The women knew that this money wasn’t coming from some faceless benevolent source in the sky. It was coming from people who had heard their story, and were touched by it. People who cared about them, and wanted to help. And I was there on your behalf. And they were so excited, and they send their greatest thanks.

Another project I started working on was with my students. I had taught them about a tree whose leaves are essentially like a multi-vitamin, and it can be used to treat malnutrition and many diseases. The students were very excited about this tree, and they were passionate about development, but hadn’t gotten a chance to work on it. So we started a simple project, where the only cost was the seed. The students designed it. They chose ten communities near the school to plant pilot orchards, and then did 15 satellite orchards. They did all the work to engage and excite the communities, educate them on the uses and care of the trees, and assist with the actual labor. I got to go along and mostly stand aside and watch them shine. I was blown away. The same students I could barely get to do their homework the semester before, now they were dedicating their time and resources to volunteer. I was so inspired by them.

The last thing I did differently is I got more involved in the class I was teaching. I only had four students that semester, and I wasn’t taking it as seriously as I could. We were working on designing a cattle project, which is something I was supposed to have been working on all along. We would go out to the site, which was thick with jungle brush, and we cleared a path around the outside wielding machetes side by side, so that we could make a map and design the facilities. They taught me how to swing a machete, and I taught them how to use a protractor. And besides talking about business plans and improving livestock production, we talked about their dreams, their frustrations, the terror that they had experienced during the war. And we didn’t solve anything. But I for one felt completely different. I called them my boys, even though they were older than me. And they called me their fearless leader, even though I fainted the first time I used the machete. And we formed relationships that made it all worthwhile.

Not much had changed in terms of the circumstances between the first semester and the second semester, the same frustrations still existed, and yet everything had changed for me, because my attitude had changed. Finally I had opened myself. My expectations were not met, but the Spirit was there all the same, waiting for me to say yes.

Mission work will change your life. We are all called to mission work, out of our comfort zones, into the dark and scary places of our lives and of the world. Because it is in the dark and scary places that we finally are able to see that candle that Jesus lit in our hearts. It is in only in the very valley of the shadow of death, where everything else that distracts us falls away, and we realize that small flickering weak flame is the most important thing of all.

We are broken people living in a broken world. But how could there be miracles if we weren’t. God uses us, flawed as we are. Missionaries don’t have some extra special faith, we are just as broken as everybody else, but we said yes anyway.
What will you say “Yes” to? What will our Diocese say “Yes” to? The Bishop Elect said yesterday that we are working on building foundations, by listening and by acting. I hope that our Millennium Development Task Force will be part of that process, and that it will serve as a catalyst for each congregation to begin the process of discerning where they are called in mission, and where we are called as a Diocese. Because we are called to love and to go. To love God and each other, and to go out into the world and be the face and hands and heart of Christ in the world.

And to quote the Bishop Elect again, “Don’t call me Lord, and then not do what I say.” We are called out of fear into great joy.

I leave you with a quote from a song we sang yesterday, “Be not afraid, I go before you always, come, follow me.”

Home Again

2007-08-28T16:45:00.000-07:00

Well, my year in Liberia is now over, and I have returned to California.

For those of you who are from my sponsoring churches, thank you for your love and support. For those of you who have followed my emails, passed on to you from someone else, thank you for reading. Writing these updates has been a time of reflection for me each month, and I'm glad that so many of you found them meaningful too.

The transition back to "normal" life has been difficult. So thank you for your patience while I re-settle. I hope to start visiting the 8 churches that supported me in November. Hopefully by then I will know what I'm going to be doing next as well.

As I look back over all my emails from this year, one message rings out to me: On the other side of fear is an experience waiting to change your life and other's lives too. I won't call it an adventure, it's just life whether in the forests of West Africa or the suburbs of central California, there is fear and there is the wonder of moving beyond it. When traveling to Liberia I was afraid of what living in a post-war culture meant, I was afraid of failure, of making a fool of myself, of catching some strange illness… But after a while, I was too busy with my every day life to be afraid anymore. Perhaps it was the realization that even failure was better than nothing. And if God can make something wonderful out of all my feeble effort and failure, than maybe I should stop worrying about the outcomes, and concern myself with the doing and living.

May God richly bless you in all your struggles, and as you journey, wrap Her arms around you, drawing you ever closer to Her bosom.

We Have Work to Do!

2007-07-19T18:00:00.000-07:00

Last week I got to visit an orphanage in Gbarnga. My students and I are working on developing ten pilot Moringa orchards in communities near Cuttington. Once I am gone, the students will continue to monitor the orchards and advise the communities on the cultivation and use of Moringa to treat malnutrition, internal parasites, and much much more.

Last week we were planting at Felleta Children’s Village. There is no car road to their home, but when our truck pulled up half a mile away, the children saw us. Their happy voices echoed up to us from across the swamp, and they ran down the hill and across the rice paddies to greet us. They helped me carry the seedlings back up to the orphanage. The girls cradling them in their arms like a doll. One boy balanced his on top of his head with the biggest grin on his face. As we made our way across the planks which serve as bridges in the rice paddy, and up the hill I could hear the small girls talking behind me, “This is my tree, I’m gonna take care of it. I’m gonna give it water every day.” And a boy was saying, “We’ll be eating it, and climbing it!” I taught them how to plant the trees, and before I knew it, they were digging holes and planting trees like crazy. I was amazed to see even the small children join in like it was a fun game. They are such joyful children. It’s clear that their caretaker Samuel, who is a gentle soul, has had a very good influence on them. I wished I could spend more time with them, just being around them rubbed a lot of joy off on me.

I hesitated to tell you this story, happy orphans living in a mud brick house with dirt floors. Though it’s true, it certainly isn’t the bulk of my experience in Liberia. Just like every other place in the world, Liberia is a land of juxtaposition: joy and sorrow, wealth and poverty, frustration and elation. A few weeks ago I had to tell a student multiple times to put away his i-pod while we were doing a Moringa site assessment in a village. Last week I lost my temper with a student who was demanding I buy him books. I have been frustrated by corruption, disgusted by the common instances of what in the states we would call abuse and enslavement of women and children, and exasperated by the lack of justice. And at the same time I have been touched by the displays of affection between friends, impressed by the hospitality, dazzled by the bright colors and elaborate styles both in clothing and nature, amazed at the will and work by which people survive, and elated to find joy in the most unexpected places.

As I left the orphanage, I couldn’t help wondering what will become of the children. Will there be money to send them to high school? Family plays such an important role in this culture, will the other children and Samuel be as a family to them in the future? I don’t know, but what I do know is there is a lot of love in that mud brick house on the hill.

Orphanages are a relatively new phenomenon in Liberia. Before the war, orphaned children were mostly taken in by other family members, but the war left too many broken families, too many orphaned children, and too many people in dire need.

Everyone has a story about the war. My students have told me some of theirs: fleeing to live in a refugee camp in Guinea, walking for two weeks with no food, living for years in an internally displaced persons camp, working as security for the warlord Charles Taylor, seeing family members killed, and always narrowly escaping death.

It all sounds so foreign to our western ears, and yet, so much of the world has lived through coups and wars in this generation, a third of the world lives in abject poverty with no access to clean drinking water. Should we think of these things and feel guilty or blessed? Both attitudes just separate us from the suffering of the world. Both attitudes cause us to fear, and pray that such tragedy never befalls us. I know these attitudes because they have been my own in the past. But living in Liberia, and doing hurricane Katrina relief work has taught me that when the worst thing imaginable happens to people, when their deepest fears are realized, life still goes on, the community still exists, there is laughter and tears, there is work to do, an education to be had, food to cook, a house to build. Life goes on, and most importantly, Love abides. Just because our country is sheltered from much of the suffering of the world, does not mean that we escape it. If we can embrace that which we fear, reach out a hand, shed a tear, share a laugh… wouldn’t the world be a better place? Wouldn’t our lives be richer?

The other day I brushed the cobwebs off my bible, and opened it to James. “I by my works will show you my faith.” I don’t think doing good works is about getting into heaven, I think it’s about living into the best version of who we want to be, by letting go of fear to do, go, become, love!

It is up to all of us to change the world, there is no one else! In the words of my wise friend John, “Stop being afraid, we have work to do!”

White Woman Working?

2007-06-14T11:09:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I unintentionally caused quite a stir. I was up earlier than usual, and decided to enjoy the lovely cool morning, and do a little out-doors work. The short-cut that I walk often, through the overgrown field, and across the ditch, to Phebe compound was getting rather more overgrown than is pleasant to walk through, and the narrow plank which serves as a bridge over the ditch had become tipsy enough that it had almost pitched Mary, Martha, and I into the ditch on more than one occasion. So I got out my cutlass (machete), sharpened it, and headed out to do a little brushing. My students have taught me how to brush, and while my skill at it could be considered deplorable, I can at least reduce an overgrown area to a less overgrown area. I was a bit embarrassed at first, because people laugh at me just for carrying a cutlass or shovel, let alone using one. And I forgot that the shortcut is used by at least a hundred people. So I had to stop every few minutes to let someone pass by. They did laugh a lot, but they thanked me too. It is customary to thank someone who is working. It is a nice tradition. And as a person who was working, it was very encouraging to be appreciated (it counteracted the laughter a bit). It was also a nice change to be greeted with “thank you” instead of the more common “White woman! White woman!”. I also straitened out the bridge and stabilized it a bit. It was a good couple hours work, and I came away with several new blisters, and a cut from sharpening the cutlass (my technique leaves something to be desired). For the rest of the day, people were coming up to me saying “I heard you were working this morning” or “thank you for brushing”. They even stopped to tell friends of mine that I was working. Even days later I’m still getting comments from people who heard about it.

It is interesting to me that of all the projects and things I have been working on here, by far, the most appreciation I have received was for the simple task of clearing a path. Brushing is considered one of the lowliest tasks. College professors would certainly not brush. As “white woman! white woman!” I am automatically put in a different category. People expect us to ride around in air-conditioned cars, and eat “European food” and certainly never engage in manual labor. Mary, Martha, and I tend to challenge their stereotypes. We walk most places or cram ourselves into taxis. We shop for groceries at the local open-air market, and eat Liberian food. I tend to do manual labor from time to time. I think what is most surprising to people is the act of humbling oneself. Apparently by some of the things we do, we are making the statement, “I am not above joining you in this.” The power of that cannot be underestimated. The times when I have felt most connected with Liberians are times when we have worked alongside one another, or just sat together and watched the world go by. In these moments, we have been connected and our differences seem much smaller somehow. I regret that these times have been fewer than I intended.

Mother Teresa said, “The only way to learn humility is through humiliation.” Humility is something I have far from mastered. But I am starting to feel differently about it. I used to feel guilty that I wasn’t humble enough, and I thought that humility had to hurt somehow. But now I think that humility can be joyful. If we are willing to humiliate ourselves, we open ourselves to all sorts of meaningful experiences with other people. Through our humiliation we can connect with, and empower others. Through humiliation we can conquer fear, and barriers that divide people.

What if we did one thing a week, or even one thing a month, that stretched us outside our comfort zone, that made us feel foolish, that opened us up to the experience of another? Last year, on the “Day without Immigrants”, there wasn’t any demonstration scheduled in Atascadero, and I wanted to go downtown and hold a sign in support of immigrants, stage my own demonstration, but I was too afraid. I have wanted to go walk through the north side of Paso Robles, talk to strangers on the street, practice my Spanish, but I was too afraid. How many times have I walked past a person in a wheelchair, or a homeless person and not even looked at them, because I was too afraid. I believe that the more we practice doing things we are afraid of, the less scary things will be! When I was on the plane to Liberia, I was about as scared as I have ever been. I was pretty sure I had made a terrible mistake, that after all my talk, and everyone’s support, I wasn’t actually capable, and it was too late. But Liberia has been wonderful to me. The fear has been dissolved, replaced by love. My heart has been stretched to care about suffering around the world. And my old fears seem feeble in the face of all there is to gain in human relationships.

We don’t have time and energy to waste on fear, let’s get to work and see how it changes us!

Snapshots

2007-05-23T17:57:00.000-07:00

Community members, my students and I, after finishing planting a moringa orchard at the Leprosy Rehab Village.

Mary and I's godchildren Clarence and Clarencia, who are twins. This is a picture in our living room, from a day they came over to play. I would like to nominate them for cutest children in the universe.

My animal production systems class on our last day of lecture. (Senkro, Morlu, me, Jojo, and Beyan)

Martha and I peeling and eating Mangos that had just been knocked from the tree, at our favorite local establishment. Mango season was May and part of June. Mango trees are absolutely everywhere here, we could eat ourselves sick on them every day! Except it turns out Martha's alergic to the outside, and Mary to the inside, so that left more for me!

My students and I take a field trip to visit a school that has a cattle program. (if you look very close you can see a cow in the background).

Martha, me, and Mary at a shrove tuesday party.

My godson Clarence and I, after his baptism

Myself, Martha, and Mary at an agriculture field day where we discovered a group of napping cows (cows are not common in Liberia)

The house on campus where Mary and I live

Mary and I find local icecream after watching Cuttington win a soccer match.

Me and Martha with our new tropical christmas trees

May Update

2007-05-20T12:30:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting with my computer on the couch, it’s a Sunday afternoon and there is no power, because power shuts down at 10am on Sundays. We just had some friends over for our traditional Sunday lunch of egg salad. Our fan stands idle by the window. The window has no glass in it, none of our windows do, so the occasional breeze can come in, shifting the heavy humid air. Beads of sweat are forming all over my face, but I wipe them away before they start to fall. A layer of clouds outside is promising rain. It’s been 48 hours since our last rain, which seems like too long. From my window I can see the neighbors palaver hut (not too different from a gazebo), a few cranberry hibiscus bushes I planted which have finally outgrown their nemesis: the mealy bug, a couple wild baby palm trees, my rain gauge: a graduated cylinder, acres of green grass and plants that blend into “the bush”, rubber plantations, and the forest beyond. It smells damp and green. Occasionally someone drives by on the red dirt road, or a mango falls to the ground, or the neighbors stir the soup they are cooking on a coal pot in the yard, but apart from that it’s silent. A peaceful, relaxing afternoon.

After 4 weeks of the school being shut down, classes resumed last week. It has been a frustrating month, not knowing what was going on, or why classes weren’t resuming. After the first couple days of unrest, the remainder of the month was utterly quiet. This last week of classes was quiet as well, with students slowly filtering back on campus, despite new requirements and long journeys. There were rumors of a second protest, but it didn’t materialize. It seems like the students are afraid now, just to speak their mind. Even the weekly assembly, a forum for students to gather and bring up issues, was canceled. Most of the students’ demands were met, and facilities were improved during the “compulsory break”, but it seems to me that the real issue behind it all was a lack of communication and rapport between the students and Administration, and that seems worse than ever. But it is wonderful to be back in class again. It makes me realize how much I missed the students. The students are eager to learn, and I had two great labs this week where I got to swing a cutlass (machete) alongside my students to clear brush, survey a field, plant trees, and mulch.

Lots of good things happened this month too: I became a godmother, my Moringa orchard got planted, I was able to get a thousand more Moringa seeds and some legume seeds I was looking for, I started implementing a safe drinking water grant I wrote back in October, the Lifewater crew came to drill the well that St. Andrews, Torrance sponsored, and I got to spend a day at a health and sanitation workshop in a village. Having more time gave me the chance to think up new projects, and I’m going to try to get some Moringa trees planted in nearby communities, and teach them about the benefits: Moringa can be used to treat malnutrition, clarify water, kill internal parasites, and much more!

In past updates I’ve shared some insight or talked about some idea I was struggling with. But today I’m hot, and sticky and relaxing on the couch, thinking of playing Frisbee with Martha and Mary or watching a movie on my computer, or going out for an ice cold glass bottle of coke, and not particularly inspired about anything. It’s good to have days like this too, to be content in spite of and because of it all. Perhaps that’s the peace which passes understanding!

Where is God?

2007-04-20T17:53:00.000-07:00

Where is God in all this? A friend emailed me that question in light of Cuttington’s current crisis, and I realized I haven’t asked myself that in a long time. Sometimes that question is just too hard to answer, so I look at the easier questions: what’s going wrong, who is to blame, what do I do now, how do I distract myself. When I hear stories of the utter horror and loss of humanity that was Liberia’s civil war, when I see the destruction, when I come across corruption, when children and amputees ask me for money and I walk away, when I see young people fighting instead of talking, when hope for the future seems so far away… Where is God?

I’ve heard reports of a school shooting in Virginia, and I know that that must be at the front of everyone’s minds. Tragic events like these break through that barrier we think we have between the violence and suffering that plague the rest of the world, and us. We believe that these things aren’t supposed to happen, so where is God in all this? When tragedy strikes, we reach out to other people, we care, we come together… but we also get scared. We look for where we can assign blame, and so many times we forget that we are not alone in suffering. We care most about those who are closest to us; I understand that. But we miss so much when we close our hearts to the rest of the world. In January more than 100 union demonstrators were killed by their government in Guinea. The demonstrators were standing up against the corruption of their government (ranked the most corrupt in Africa). The people of Guinea are becoming united against their government, and most likely moving toward a coup. I’m sure Guinea wasn’t on the US news. When I first got here, a Liberian I was talking to was shocked that I didn’t hear that the presidential mansion had caught on fire. “But we get all of your news, you mean you don’t hear about what’s going on here?” I didn’t have the heart to admit I didn’t even hear about Liberia’s war when it was raging just over 3 years ago. In the states, when you do hear about the suffering in Africa, it seems so distant almost not real. And Virginia Tech seems very far away to me too. But perhaps when we speak the language of suffering we will understand one another. Where is God in all of this?

The last few days at Cuttington have been a mixture of scary, sad, and hopeful. The students staged what they claimed was a non-violent boycott of classes on Monday, to bring attention to the grievances they had against the administration. It began by a group of chanting male students, driving all students and teachers from classrooms, and not allowing them to re-enter. The female student leaders had not wanted the boycott, but the men went ahead. The tension on campus continued to escalate as both students and the administration issued demands and a forum for dialogue could not be agreed on. The students blocked entrances to the school, and threatened to break down the generator. The students concerns are valid, having to do with services they are paying for but not receiving, but their methods got out of control. In what seemed to be a moment of panic on the second day, the President of the University, issued a memo declaring that the school be closed indefinitely, and the dorms be vacated. None of the administrators made this announcement to the student body because they did not believe the situation to be safe. A mob of students began throwing stones at official vehicles, and all administrators’ vehicles fled across a field to escape campus (all the roads were blocked). All the ex-pats were asked to evacuate campus, so we packed our bags, and left via footpaths to avoid the roadblocks. We sought refuge with friends at the Phebe Hospital Compound, about a mile from campus. They call it “running” when they talk about the war, “when we had to run”. As Mary and I walked through an overgrown field, and across a stream, pursued part way by jeering students, with all our valuables on our backs, I thought to myself how unreal it was that I was running. Running from students I know and love and do not fear. Jumping from a ship that I couldn’t believe was sinking. None of it made sense. We were in classes last week, and everything seemed fine… how could all that be snatched away so fast? Where was God in all of that?

Mary and I were greeted warmly by our friends. We waited, and slowly the other six Americans arrived. We passed the evening talking, sometimes laughing. Several of my students called to check that I was safe. We got the news that the president of Liberia, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf (affectionately known as Ma Ellen), was herself coming to meet with the two sides in the morning. So Wednesday we all got up and headed back to campus. The men in our group were called to meet with the President of the University, to discuss the situation. The rest of us waited in the chapel for a couple hours with the students. Packed into the building like sardines, we could feel the energy and tension as though it were waves and all of us were the ocean. Waves crashed down as riot police and a huge caravan of UN troops arrived, and as troops marched in with metal detectors to secure the area. Finally the music director started playing songs on a keyboard, and the music calmed the waves. There was God!

Ma Ellen had a big task on her shoulders. She is so loved and respected here, I had high hopes, but it seemed like it was going to take a real miracle to change things. I have seen female politicians and scientists in the US, who have had to fight for every rung of the ladder they climbed, and in joining the “man’s world” they had to adopt a certain amount of cold aggression. I expected to see that, especially since women are given so little authority here. But Ma Ellen was the picture of a loving African matriarch. Refreshingly feminine, and very much in charge, it felt to me like she was reconciling two children who had had a fight. Without undermining either party’s authority or belittling their concerns, she managed to put the bigger picture back in focus, re-open dialogue, and restore peace. The dorms will remain open while dialogue continues (eliminating the need for a military forced evacuation), and academic activity will be suspended until an agreement can be reached. Ma Ellen said that the government would pay for the dorms to remain open, and in return the students would agree to stop their protest activities, understanding that any perpetrators of violence will be dealt with by the government. An agreement has not yet been reached, we expect to be out of school until the middle of next week at least, but we are home on campus again, and safe to resume life as usual. Our housekeeper asked when we got back from the meeting, “Did the woman come make everything alright?” Yes, the woman did. There was God!

When I think of it, it’s easy to see God in Ma Ellen, in the music director, in my students calling to check on me, in the camaraderie of friends during our one night of exile, in the student body president’s apology. But God isn’t just in the stuff that’s easy to see. If I think about it hard, God was in the jungle smell of the fresh green overgrown field we “escaped” through. God was in the sense of calm I felt, even when I was scared or sad. God was in the beating of every heart, whether in fear or excitement. And If I think about it even harder, God is in everything, everywhere, all the time… we are all the pieces of God woven together into a vibrant ever changing awe inspiring terrible wonderful creation.

Until today I have been afraid to ask, “where is God?” because I was afraid that I wouldn’t see God anymore. What other questions are we afraid to ask? What answers are we afraid to see?

Yesterday I heard the assembly of students sing the Liberian national anthem in the presence of their President, who came to spark reconciliation when others were afraid. “… the home of glorious liberty by God’s command!” How many times has that promise been broken? How many oppressive regimes have stolen the liberty of Liberians? And yet they sing. Yesterday I was privileged to sing along.

May the answers to difficult questions enrich our lives, and lead us ever outward, into the world.

Mission

2007-02-16T09:44:00.000-08:00

This Sunday is World Mission Sunday in the Episcopal Church, which has gotten me thinking about what mission means to me now.

I just turned in my final grades for the semester. Today I had to tell a student that she failed my class, despite the extra effort she has made to bring up her grade. With an F on her report card, her sponsor will most likely stop sponsoring her college education. She sat on my porch and cried. Another student came by to collect a book which I promised as a prize to the high grade in the class. He was so excited he was dancing around. He took the book and said he was going to be a veterinarian. That hadn’t been his dream before taking my Animal Husbandry lab. I am so proud of the effort some of my students have made, and for the ones who tried and failed, my heart hurts for them. I never set out to be a teacher, but I made it through the semester. The students learned something, and I learned a lot.

I thought, when choosing this path, that being an agricultural missionary would somehow feel different than “normal life”. That I would be constantly aware of God’s presence in the world around me, that I would feel inspired and fulfilled. But one thing I have learned is that life is just life. There are good jobs and bad jobs, fulfillment, and searching, regardless of the continent you happen to be on.

I am learning many lessons, not the lessons I expected, but I guess we rarely learn what we expect. I’m getting better at saying no. I’m getting more confident. I’m learning how to not be busy in the face of too many things to do. And most of all, I’m learning that God is Love. When I fail all day long, and feel discouraged and empty, I am refilled by the love of and for my friends. My friends have been the love of God to me, the real presence of that love, and I have felt Love growing in my own heart.

Liberia is a difficult place. There are no ATMs or credit cards, no telephone lines, no public utilities. There is no Mexican food, or salad bar. Everywhere you look there is poverty and need. There are children who are dirty and naked and hungry. There is so much hardship, corruption, abuse, disease, and death. One in every five children, born alive, die before reaching the age of five. Infant and mother mortality remains one of the highest in the world. Everyone suffers from the trauma the war inflicted on them. And yet there are bright colors, music, and laughter. Children play with hoops and balls, and build toys out of garbage. People just keep living. My students wear trendy jeans and drink beer, and study or avoid studying, just like college students anywhere. Life goes on.

I embarked on this mission thinking that I was going to encounter and serve “the other”. It was hard for me to imagine Liberia feeling like home. But Liberia does feel like home. And far from encountering “the other”, I have found that there is no other. We come from different cultures, we express ourselves in different ways, we have different complexions, but we are one people, we share the human experience of life, of struggle of pain of joy of love.

Mission is dangerous work, and I don’t mean physically. I feel like part of myself had been sleeping my whole life, but now it is awake, and there is no going back. When you step out of your comfort zone, when you allow yourself to look into the face of that which you call “other”. You may just see a mirror instead. Never again will I hear the phrase “starving children in Africa” and write it off as a cliché. Never again will I see the children in a “save the children” commercial as anything less than my neighbor’s child, or my friend’s child, or any child anywhere whether they are naked or clothed, abandoned or well loved. Never again will I value the life of an American above all others. The danger then is that my heart has been opened to love and ache for that which I cannot change. Even while I am here in Liberia, there is so little I can do to alleviate suffering. But my heart tells me that being open to love, even when it seems that love will only be grief, loving is what is important. Every day it seems I fail at this, every day I loose focus, or get discouraged, but there is no absence of love in my life, and that makes all the difference.

We are not all called to far away lands, but we are all called to Love. To take the dangerous path, to look at that which we fear, and choose to love instead.
May the peace and fire of Love be with you,

Joy Amidst Ruins

2007-01-19T10:36:00.000-08:00

Some friends and I traveled up-country to Zorzor, to spend New Year's with a friend who helps run a small hospital. Zorzor is in Lofa county, which was one of the areas most destroyed during Liberia's Civil War. We traveled three hours down a bumpy red dust road to get there. As you walk through the dirt streets of Zorzor you can see that it once had nice buildings and businesses, you see steps and foundations, sometimes half crumbled walls peppered with bullet holes. And in these ruins people have remade their homes. The traditional mud, stick, and thatch houses are built in-between and on top of the ruins. Small businesses or homes have been made in bombed out buildings even if they have no roof. But all of that is just the backdrop on which Zorzor is painted. Within that canvas, life goes on. The town teems with activity, people, and bright colors. As we walked through the streets on our way to church on Sunday morning, we were greeted enthusiastically by people along the road. One of my students ran up to us to say hello, so proud that I had come to his home town. I wanted to tell him how much I liked Zorzor, but I couldn't think of the right words to use, because we generally comment on the "niceness" or beauty of a town. The beauty of Zorzor is in the people, and it positively glows.

In church I saw more enthusiasm, and joyfulness than I have yet encountered in Liberia. We were crowded into the only part of the church that had been re-roofed, but they still found room for dancing. During announcements one man stood up to say that he and his wife had been in exile in a neighboring country since the war, and they had just moved home. When he shouted "Praise the Lord" we all shouted, "Amen!" The rhythm of the drum and shakers and the chanting, wailing, joyful sound of the music in the local language, flowed into each of us. The lady in front of me had a baby tied to her back (as is the custom here). The baby slept soundly as her mother danced and clapped, and a very small child standing just outside the door, was swaying to the rhythm. The same rhythm we were all experiencing and joining in, connected us. It was worship and community, joy, frustration, hope, longing. It couldn't be ignored, it was impossible to keep from joining in the stamping and the clapping and the swaying.

At 9:00 at night, we walked back to church for the New Year's eve "watch night service" which is the biggest attended service of the year. The town looked so different by the light of the moon and a few generator powered light bulbs. Everything looked softer, more lived in, less pock marked by bullet holes. The church was already full of people dancing and singing. When they saw us the crowd opened so we could be led to the seats they had saved for us. All the children were in the back of the church dancing, and they came running up to touch our skin, and squeal with laughter. The sanctuary was loosely defined by the crumbling walls, and the ceiling was the night sky. When the music and dancing paused for testimonies or sermons, the speakers had to compete with the boom boxes blaring just across the street, but when the congregation started singing, there was nothing that could compete with it. For the last ten minutes before midnight, we sat in silent prayer. It was a powerful contrast, silence isn't something you find much of around here. Then they rang the bell (an empty propane tank) 12 times, (only someone miscounted and it was 13). Everyone lit candles and processed around the town, chanting and doing a shuffling sort of dance. There was so much hugging, I was amazed that no one's head tie or shirt caught on fire. The pastor warned us before we headed out that the Catholics and Pentecostals would also be processing with candles, and that they were our friends, so if we noticed that any of them had a small fire on them, we should put it out.

My time in Zorzor was peaceful, and joyful. I saw people working together; I saw progress being made. It strengthened me for my return to teaching after the break. I feel like Zorzor has changed me, and I hope that if I look the right way, I can see that same joy other places too.

I hope that the new year brings you more than the post-holiday let down, dieting, and resolutions. I hope that you too will be struck by the abundant joy that can be found in what seems like the most unlikely of places. That's epiphany!

Hope from Advent

2006-11-30T09:46:00.000-08:00

I have been looking forward to Advent for some time. I always loved advent, as a child, because it marked the time of anticipation before Christmas. But I think this year what I've been longing for is the waiting and the hope that advent represents.

Here in Liberia there is much waiting: waiting for supplies, waiting for long overdue pay checks, waiting for clean wells to be drilled, waiting for the government to be capable, waiting for the peacekeepers to leave, waiting for stability, waiting for an economy, waiting for jobs, waiting for a better life. But at the end of 15 years of unthinkable brutality, atrocities, and horror, I'm not sure how easily hope comes. In the face of all they long for, and all they have survived, the people of Liberia continue to live. They live in the toil of their everyday routines, but also in their laughter, in their singing, in their arguing, in their bright colored cloth, in 9 people stuffed in a taxi, in their extended families, and in their dependence on one another.

The beauty of advent is the presence of hope in God's promise. On Sunday the preacher reminded us that God is, and was, and will be. And in advent it's the "will be" that we celebrate.

What "will be" for Liberia? It's difficult to hope in the face of the unknown, with only "small small" progress being made. What I learned about hope when I was doing relief work after Hurricane Katrina, is that the hope that made a difference to people was the hope brought by each volunteer, and each shipment of food. When they couldn't hope for a better tomorrow, they had hope from support, hope from friendship, hope from a helping hand, hope from love. That is the hope that sustained people.

I hope that by your support and prayers, and my presence here, together we are a "small small" ray of hope in Liberia. From day to day, I don't do anything too spectacular. I grade papers; I scrape together mediocre lectures; I supervise the planting of some corn; I show my students how to give injections to pigs; I walk from farm to class and back again; and I look forward to the weekend as much as the students do. Recently I have felt discouraged with myself because of how truly mediocre my service here seems to be. But with the coming of advent, hope has returned to me as well. Life is perhaps rarely spectacular, even for a missionary in Africa. Each of us, no matter where we live, are called to do our "small small" piece, and together all of our mediocre and feeble efforts, set the great tides of hope and love, which bring light to the darkest places and times in human hearts, and become the human experience of God on earth… something truly spectacular!

Yes, this season we await the promise, we await the kingdom, and we celebrate an experience which is beyond the confines of any religion: the collective power of this human experience of weakness, hope, and love.

Hand-me-downs and Blessings

2006-10-30T17:25:00.000-08:00

So many things, hand-me-downs, travel across the ocean, across continents, and end up here in Africa. I ran into someone wearing a shirt from Pass Christian Mississippi (where I went to do Katrina relief). I've seen a young man wearing a flowery old-lady's jogging suit. Most of the time, in the villages, the clothes are worn out, and the colors don't match, but the Western cast-offs are cheaper than traditional clothing. On campus, the science building, has a plaque on it "A gift from the people of the United States of America," dedicated by the US sponsored Liberian dictator of the 1980s. Students cram into rooms past doors that hang from busted hinges. Plants grow from the roof; lab counters are disintegrating, with rusty sinks that lost their ability to give water more than a decade ago. In the library there are more books than I expected. I eagerly picked my way along the agriculture row, squinting in the darkness, my nose full of the smell of molding books. There were USDA yearbooks from the 1920s and 30s, a book on pig production in England from 1944. And then I saw the only modern book on the shelves, "Range Management." I recognized the cover, I had seen it before in the US. Just what I need for establishing a cattle program, and teaching animal husbandry, or so I thought. But it turns out it's about semi-arid, American plains rangeland, not at all applicable in tropical Africa. So I went upstairs and sorted though the recently arrived agriculture books, where I found such titles as "The plant life of New Jersey"… hand-me-downs. It reminds me of the cliché "eat your dinner, there are starving children in Africa," and the child's response "why don't we send them my broccoli then".

I found out two days before class started that I'm teaching, Introduction to Agriculture and Animal Husbandry. My students are passionate, dedicated, intelligent people, and they are starving for knowledge. They are going to the most prestigious Liberian University (or at least it once was), paying a tuition they can't afford, studying an industry that is only at the survival level right now. Agriculture, they are told by their friends, is the work of the poor, why would you study that? But when I ask them why they are studying agriculture, their eyes light up. They speak with passion about how important improving agriculture is to helping their nation, how they want to help subsistence farmers to improve agriculture, how they want to bring businesses back to Liberia, how they want to grow food here to feed their people. These young people have known only three years of peace since their childhood. They have seen, and survived unthinkable evil. And now that they have made it to the University their plans aren't to flee for a better life elsewhere. They love their homeland, and they are committed to it's future.

I want the very best for them. But all I have to offer is me, with only a bachelor's degree and no teaching experience. With a hand full of irrelevant hand-me-down books printed more than fifty years ago. But I have the internet (when it's working), a few books I brought, and some creativity. I have deep respect for my students, and a growing love of Liberia.

So far I've taken on the role of a veterinarian (thank's Lucy for the advice! The cat is doing very well), a community needs assessor, a grant writer, a program developer, an ag engineer, and now a college professor. And I thought this Young Adult Service Corps was supposed to be "Mission work 101". The thing about a place like Liberia, is that through extreme need, it invites each person to become the absolute most that they can be with what knowledge and creativity they have. Reinvent the wheel? Why not! I don't think that I will ever help them as much as they are teaching and growing me.

Mary and I were just talking about how we entered this experience willing to sacrifice. And yet, far from sacrificing, we are being richly blessed, by all of you back home and by the people of Liberia. Serving in Africa seems like such a scary thing from the other side of the world, but from this side of the world it's not scary at all, it's beautiful. And any small discomforts (like not having cheese) pale in comparison to the constant joyful reminder of how lucky we are to be serving here.

Reading St. Luke's newsletter over email, I see how the fire of mission is burning strong back home, and it excites me in my work here. "It only takes a spark to get a fire growing". The extreme need in the communities that surround us, no matter where we are, is an invitation for extreme action. We don't have to worry about the outcome, we can leave that to God, we just have to take the fist step, and then see the fire burn in ourselves and spread to others. Love is greater than fear.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

2006-09-29T17:22:00.000-07:00

Yesterday evening a few members of the farm management team at Cuttington, and myself, bumped along a narrow, barely passable red dirt road, for several miles, through a rubber plantation, until we came upon our destination: the Leprosy Colony.

It looked like any other village in the area at first glance: a mix of houses constructed from sticks, mud, and palm roofs, and houses of mud bricks and tin. All the children in the colony came running up and swarmed around the car. "Alo, Alo!" they yelled to me. The ones I saw first had big happy smiles, though they were covered in dirt. Many of the small children don't wear clothes, but those who were clothed only had half a tattered outfit on (all western clothes), and flip-flops.

This was one in a series of stops we were making to do preliminary needs assessments in the communities surrounding the University. We had been notified of some potential grant monies for outreach programs, and were fact finding before developing a proposal.

As we went to look at the pigs and chickens people were raising, the children swarmed around me. They wanted to shake my hand, and as each one did, they would laugh with glee and then come back for another one. Some of them just poked me and ran off laughing. I'm used to children laughing at me, there are so few white people around. But these children's laughter was contagious, and pretty soon I was laughing at me too.

"We have 140 children," our guide told us, as they milled around us. "We have a school here, but no teachers, none of our children go to school." After looking at the animals, he took us into the old part of the village that was built by missionaries in 1950. "There are 54 leprosy patients here, and all of their families make 240. This boy here, his mother, there, has leprosy, and he has it." The boy he pointed to was about 10, or 12, it's hard to tell with malnourished children. His eyes didn't shine like the other children, he looked old. I said hello to him and looked around the group again. Their bright eyes had distracted me from their pain. Several had scabs all over their scalps, and many had distended bellies. "We need clean water," our guide said. "The pump does not work, so our water comes from the swamp, and when it rains everything is washed to the swamp. We have no latrines, we need latrines."

We also learned that the colony had organized into farming groups and had a vegetable project, and a fish pond, and that the nearby hospital ( Phebe Hospital, a Lutheran institution) provided free care to leprosy patients, but not their families. People in the colony cannot work, so they survive on subsistence farming and selling some crafts and woven palm mats.

As we were leaving, the children swarmed around the truck again. "Bye, Bye" they shouted this time. The boy with leprosy who our guide had pointed at was standing right by the car, and I shook his hand. He never smiled, just gazed at me.

As we drove away some of the children returned to playing soccer. The newscaster on UNMIL (UN Mission In Liberia) Radio said "150 million children die every year because they don't have access to clean drinking water. 2 Billion people world wide do not have access to clean drinking water." In the US we hear these numbers, and we see images on TV of filthy muddy villages with starving children, and we care, but at some level it remains unreal, so different from our own experience it's hard to conceive. Maybe we feel guilty for a few minutes, or maybe we get involved and sponsor a child, but in the end we return to our lives, because what else can we do. But I think what we miss out on is the humanity of it. When you look people in the eye, when you shake their hand, when you greet each other, you become equals, you see that they are no different from you, you touch their suffering.

Before I came here I talked about wanting to reach out and share the experience of the other. I have not shared their experience. I am well fed, and housed, and clothed, I have filtered water, and someone to haul it for me. But I have met them, and heard some of their needs and concerns. And what I have found is that there is no "other". We are one family. Children everywhere laugh the same and draw the same stick figures, and chase the same balls.

And adults everywhere worry about their children, and providing for their families. I wasn't depressed when I left the Leprosy Colony, something about them filled me up. Perhaps it was their inherent joy, joy without reason. The beautiful thing about Liberia is how much people realize their need for one another. And we (Americans) need them too!

I leave you with the song they sing at church while passing the peace: "Reach out and touch somebody's hand, make this a better place if you can."

First Update--Nuggets of Life in Liberia

2006-09-22T16:33:00.000-07:00

Mary Tom and I made it to Africa! And it’s been quite an adventure already. I already feel like I’ve been here forever, even though things are still so new. We spent a day in Monrovia, and then headed out to Cuttington, 120 miles away. We are all still figuring out just what we will be doing here. I’ve been spending time touring the school farm, and am spending this week shadowing the supervisor in each of the different areas. They have a rubber plantation, pigs, chickens, a fish pond in development, vegetables, and rice paddies. I met with the Dean of the College of Agriculture and Rural Development yesterday. It was surreal to look over course schedules and descriptions in his office, where the power was out, and where the walls were still stained from the damage sustained during the war. He said my arrival was timely and he hoped my presence would encourage women to join the
College of Agriculture, which is currently dominated by men. I have a month to work on the farm before classes start. I still don’t know what I will be doing except that I will be working with the students, and with the management team on the farm. The farm management team has welcomed me very warmly. Cuttington’s campus is 1,500 acres, and could be considered the most prestigious college in Liberia. Charles Taylor (the notorious war lord) and his troops occupied the campus for part of the war. They destroyed all the infrastructure, consumed all of the agricultural products and animals, burned all the documents and books, and destroyed the buildings by tearing off the roofs. Not to mention the torture, maiming, and murder they committed all over the country, ultimately resulting in the deaths of 250,000 people. The UN is still a very big presence here, and there are signs of a recent terrible conflict everywhere. Power is returning to parts of the capitol city for the first time in 15 years. Grant funding has provided for basic rebuilding of many campus structures at Cuttington, though running water is still hope for the future. I was surprised to see almost no guns in the streets, even the national police are not allowed to be armed. Progress is being made, very slowly, but a lasting peace will require major economic stimulation. Liberia is the poorest country in the world right now. Cuttington is located in a very rural and impoverished area, and is well placed to make a difference here, as well as educating leaders for a new Liberia.

So some of our adventures have included: Taking a taxi to Gbarnga (pronounced “Bonga”) where the taxies never drive off until there are at least 7 people in them. Shopping in Monrovia where there are absolutely no road signs or traffic signals, and people absolutely everywhere. Being told not to cross the road just in time to see the President’s motorcade speeding past. Hiring a car to take us from the airport who got two flat tires in the dark and pouring rain. Arriving to stay at the Lutheran compound (a veritable fortress) in Monrovia after dark and unexpected. Being taken under the wing of a young man who had spent the war fleeing from refugee camp to refugee camp, he escorted us from Monrovia to Cuttington just to be sure nothing happened to us. Trying to learn “Liberian English”. Learning how to snap fingers with someone who is shaking your hand (a custom). Eating the delicious Liberian cuisine. Our several hour walk around Cuttington’s campus which lead us through several traditional rural villages. Having a face off with the snails in our kitchen whom we will be eating in the next few days (we were feeling much more brave at the idea of snails, now that we have purchased them, they are a bit scary). Trying to figure out how to be a servant when you are being called “Professor” and have a staff of people taking care of you. Passing the peace on Sunday in a country where Peace means so much more than we could ever imagine. Being touched time and time again by people’s stories of pain and survival. Being warmly welcomed, loved, and cared for, by the Liberian people.