Counting the Cost

Our home church missions emphasis month is featuring the theme, Counting the Cost. I was reminded of it again yesterday when I read on another blog about the death of a young woman Peace Corps worker. She taught school in an African country. She got close to the girls and realized that they were being systematically sexually abused. After much consideration, she decided to report the matter to the proper authority--discreetly and anonymously. The day after her report, she was found murdered in her home.

As I read her sad story, I remembered how many times I have faced up to the fact that what I am doing could cost my life. I've thought about it long and hard and many times. I value my life and I enjoy living. I'm not afraid to die. I know that when I die, by God's grace I will be with Him, because I know that Jesus Christ paid my sin debt to God. But still, I've got eternity to enjoy heaven and not so long to enjoy this life, so I'm in no hurry to move on to the next life.

Every time I've thought about it, though, I have come up with the same conclusion. What I am doing is worth living for, and it is worth dying for. I remember one night in Congo when we were trapped in the war there. There was fighting all around us and it was not safe to leave the house where we were staying. One evening we heard that the soldiers were planning to raid our neighborhood that night. There was no way to get out. I really thought we might die that night. We gathered with our Congolese friends who were there and knelt together. We prayed committing our lives to the Lord. The tears flowed down my face, but there was an amazing peace in my heart. The soldiers never did raid the neighborhood. We learned later that the guard reported seeing angels over the gate that night.

But it could have been different. Many missionaries have been killed at their post of service. Am I better than they? No. I don't know why I survived the Congo war and others suffered so much. I only know I have counted the cost, and I am willing to pay whatever it is.

In fact, the very book that God used to confirm His missionary call to me many, many years ago was "Through Gates of Splendor," a book about the martyrdom of five American missionaries in the jungles of Ecuador. My reaction then, as now, was sober but peaceful. I will give my life for the children of Africa. One way or another.

Thoughts on the War in Eastern Congo

The pictures and recent reports of fighting, rape, killing and displaced people are so hard for me to read, me, one who has given her heart to Africa's children, one who lived for nine years in Congo, one who considers the Congolese like brothers and sisters. I ask myself what I should be doing. Surely I should be doing something. I find no answer but to pray. I don't even speak the Swahili language or the other village dialects of the area. If the war were in Bandundu Province where I could communicate fluently...but it isn't. Not yet. So I pray, holding up to the Prince of Peace the war-weary Congolese. Please, Lord, protect them tonight. I know You are a Great Healer, Lord. Bring healing to the little three -year old girl who was raped. Bring healing to her torn body and to her wounded soul. I pray for the women and young girls who have been raped repeatedly. Lord, bring them peace. Lord, put a wall of protection about them. I pray for the soldiers on both sides, crazed with power and orders and witchcraft and drugs. Break through the walls they have built around themselves and let them see and feel and know what they are doing. Bring healing to them, too. Lord, You cried at the death of Your friend Lazarus. I know you cry at the suffering of the Congolese. Lord, bind up their wounds. May their sufferings drive them into Your loving arms, for there they will find peace for this life and for eternity. May the courage and peace of those who know You break through to the soldiers who were do them harm and cause them to also come to You. Lord, why are You allowing this? I cannot see any good in it, but I know Your Word says that all things work together for good to those who love You (Romans 8:28). I trust You, Lord. I believe You in the night, and I ask that You may turn this evil around for good for the Congolese people. In Jesus' Mighty Name, Amen!
PS: Lord, please show me what else I can do for this part of my big African family.

Whose vision for Africa?

As I have thought and prayed about my BIG African family over the years, a recurring image has frequently come into my mind. I have seen a big map of the continent of Africa, as if shaped like a human heart. Down the left side a huge, horrifying dagger, dripping with blood, is tearing the continent apart.

Since God has given me a love for Africa, I have asked Him repeatedly what this meant. Why should He give me or allow me to have such a horrifying vision for a place and a people that are so much on my heart?

He showed me that this is not His vision for Africa. This is the enemy's vision. (I am a Christian. The enemy I am talking about is not any person or group of people. It is Satan, a spirit being who rebelled against God.) God was showing me what the enemy intended for Africa. It wasn't easy or pleasant, but as a mother of Africa, I needed to know and understand.

As I watched in my mind's eye, the dagger turned to a cross. It too, was dripping with blood, but this blood brought not death, but healing.

God was showing me that my beloved African children were going to suffer greatly. But He saw it. He had not forgotten them. He had already sent His Son to shed His blood to provide their healing.

When I first began to live and work in Africa 27 years ago, I could not have envisioned the sufferings that lay ahead for my African family. The terrible Congolese wars were yet ahead. I met only a warm, welcoming, peace-loving people. The Rwandan holocaust was unforeseen. The long war of northern Sudan against its southern regions was just brewing. The slaughter of Joseph Kony's LRA army in northern Uganda was not even thought of. The AIDS epidemic had not yet decimated countries. Millions of now orphaned children lived peacefully with the families. But God knew the sufferings ahead. He knew how wicked men would use the precious gift He had given them--freedom to choose. His heart ached.

Was it the heart of Africa I saw bleeding, or was it the heart of God Himself?