Blessings

I cannot express what it means to know that people are standing with me in prayer as Kenya continues to walk this difficult journey of political unrest. For me, the issue I am really praying about is the idea of calm vs. peace. Like so much of the world, Kenya is used to living in calm but not peace. I do not want to simply return to the "calm" where we put up with one another (although it feels much nicer). There are deep issues of hatred between tribes that unless/until they are addressed will continue to resurface. In the midst of this evil, I believe that God is trying to reveal His heart for this place, for His people. There is a deep cleansing that needs to occur. So, we continue to pray. I wanted to share these reflections from an experience I had this past week...

Like so many other Friday’s, I went to the HIV/AIDS clinic this morning to treat patients. Like any other day, people walked to the clinic or were carried on the back of bicycles. They waited in the open air corridors of the clinic to be treated. One man arrived critically ill and desperately needed to be referred to a larger hospital just one hour away; but unlike other days, there was no vehicle to take him. The road towards town contains blockades as the post-election violence continues. So, the possibility of extending treatment or even relief to this dying man seemed impossible. Rachel, the Health Practitioner I was working with, unwilling to give up asked if I would go on a walk with her. I agreed, and we walked a few hundred meters up a large hill to the police station to request them to escort this man to the hospital. As we were walking, a group of women, displaced from their homes, greeted us. They explained that it had really been raining upon them over the past few days, and they asked her for her white lab coat. She responded that she still needed it for work.

I was not prepared for the sights I was about to see. A mere ten miles from my village I entered a refugee camp. As I reached the top of the hill, I was greeted by a lady who I used to eat in her little restaurant. With tears in her eyes, she said: “welcome to our refugee camp.” I looked into the faces of hungry and dirty children. They were playing in the middle of their refuge amongst 20,000 others who had been chased as their homes were burned to the ground. I recognized others I have treated as patients at the HIV clinic. A deep sadness entered my heart. Tears filled my eyes, and I feared if I allowed them to flow they might not ever stop. I talked with a little girl, and she asked me where I was from. I told her that I lived in Kipkaren; and she simply replied, “me too”. The only difference is that her home is no longer. She is struggling, along with 300,000 others who have been displaced within their own homeland, to survive. It is hard to imagine the kind of politics, the tribal hatred that could lead to this injustice.

After arrangements had been made with the police for transporting our patient, we started back down the hill. A little girl, maybe six years old, was carrying water on her head as she climbed the hill. Her name, Upendo (which means love in Kiswahili), struck me. She represents all that we have been called to do as followers of Christ. Overwhelmed by the devastation of this land, I remembered these instructions that say: “Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy” (Proverbs 31:8-9).

And then it began to rain. It was not a light, gentle drizzle but a big rain. For a moment, in a small way, I felt their struggles. This may seem obvious; but without a shelter to enter, it is cold and wet when it rains. Without food to eat, hunger is felt. Without peace, there is no rest. As we walked through the rain, Rachel said: “now I know why they needed my coat.” I am convinced, although uncomfortable, there are times we need to know. I recently came across this prayer that has challenged, once again, my view of what it means to be blessed.



May God bless you with discomfort

At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships

So that you may live deep within your heart.



May God bless you with tears

To shed for those who suffer pain, rejections, hunger and war,

So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them

And to turn their pain into joy.



And may God bless you with enough foolishness

To believe that you can make a difference in the world

So that you can do what others claim cannot be done.

To bring justice and kindness to all.



So, I am opening my mouth on behalf of those without a voice. God has shown us what is good and what is required. We are to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. May God lead our hearts to love more fully and to follow Him wherever He leads.