Forgiveness, Courage, and Love

Sometimes putting feelings into words can be the hardest thing. This may be why phrases like “I love you,” “I’m sorry,” and “Thank you” get used so much. They carry so much weight and can be shared quickly. The “why” behind them, however, is what makes those words powerful.

I knew that coming back from Rwanda, I would be asked how my trip was. I would be asked this by people in passing much like when we ask, “how are you?” and barely pause for a response. I also knew that the majority of those close to me would want more than a two-word response. To any of you who are looking for a quick response, I will give you the word, “powerful.” To any of you truly interested, I will make an attempt to share my thoughts here in print.

I knew that God wanted me to go to Rwanda. It was a mission in line with loving Him and loving people, and I had prayed for an obstacle if it wasn’t the right time. My time leading up to the trip was free from conflict so I trusted that He was blessing my step of faith. I didn’t, however, know why I was going.
Now that I’ve left I can say that I learned much of forgiveness, courage, and love.

Forgiveness

Prior to the trip I had read up on Rwanda’s history. I had been disturbed, challenged, and then inspired by the story of a country that is striving to rise from such devastation. I was touched, however, as much as I could be by text.
I wasn’t prepared for the feeling that I would experience in visiting the Kigali Genocide Memorial, Nyamata, and hearing from people who were directly affected by the genocide in 1994. This experience gave forgiveness an entirely new meaning to me. Standing in a church in Nyamata where Pastor Vianney’s wife, four children, and siblings were killed; and hearing him talk about the importance of reconciliation and forgiveness caused me to tear up as I truly questioned whether I could do that if I were in his place. As I teared up, Patrice, Pastor Theo’s nephew came over and put his arm around me in comfort. Well, this only caused me to simply weep. How could a boy, who directly suffered as a result of the genocide, take time to comfort me? It was beyond anything that made sense to me. I will never see forgiveness in the same light.

Courage

Another heart wrenching time for me took place at Bethsaida. This is a place where HIV/AIDS women and children have a safe haven. They are given the opportunity to sew clothing and make baskets to sell in order to provide for themselves and their family. The women here had joy in their eyes, and spoke courageously of the future.
I sat and listened to the women with a young boy sitting on my lap. Again, I wept quietly as I considered how he, and others in the room, had been victimized. Victimized by a disease I had watched a good friend in America battle; with all of the conveniences of modern medicine and comfort, and even then it was so painful and heartbreaking to watch.
To then hear these women share that while they had received medicine to help them, the medicine only served to increase their appetite. They also needed the food in order for the medicine to be effective… and food they did not have.
It was a time like this as I looked into their eyes that courage took on a whole new meaning.


Love

Love is a universal need. We need it from our God and we need it from each other. I saw love expressed in so many ways, and I saw love longed for in so many places. I was convicted while I was there about what I allow to permeate my life in America to distract me from what really matters.

The first Sunday we arrived, we went to a church in the East. This is the poorest area of Rwanda, as it receives very little rain and they rely exclusively on the crops they can produce.
The church knew that we would be arriving that morning, and yet as is typical in Rwanda, it was not expected that we be there at a certain time. Roads and weather play a huge part in timeliness, or lack thereof. Even with them not knowing our arrival time, as we drove up, there were children lining the sides of the rutted dirt road, holding flowers and singing us a song of welcome. They then proceeded to run the ½ mile remaining until we arrived at the church. We shared in a time of worship, and following, they hosted a luncheon for us. It was a luncheon of plates piled high with their best food that they had to offer. Everything in me wanted to offer it right back to them, but I had to realize that it was their way of expressing thanks and love. I was humbled.

It is the myriad of faces that I remember, those with eyes that shone of forgiveness, those with a smile of courage, those with an expression of love, and those who looked deep into my eyes searching for love and rescue that leave something in me that I will never forget.