The monks are singing in the background. Songs of praise to God. A young boy comes up to me and puts his hand on my leg as if we are best friends. He’s around 4. Thunder claps ring as background music to the harmony of praise, and I glance at the chapel beneath me. Knowing I will be there later on my knees in prayer. The singing gets louder.
I stare off at the sun that is slowly setting. Saying goodbye to this day and hello to what is to come ... what is to come.
Thinking of the email I received earlier today.
“There is a tentative attack on Goma this Saturday or Sunday…” It is Friday night. What will tomorrow bring?
We are on the Rwandan side of the border and for two days our friends have been trying to negotiate visa entries. Funny how, in a matter of seconds, frustrations of being unable to get a Congo visa quickly turn into prayers for safety for all who are already there. Feelings of anticipation with a tinge of frustration melt into anger at this situation and a protective wing appears. A wing that hopes to surround these children and those we love. Praying that the rebels' hearts would be softened tonight as they sleep. That God would somehow come to them in their dreams and speak kindness.
They are ... right there. Right down that road. Beneath the large shadow of that volcano.
The rebels. The children. Our friends.
I know they are in hands stronger than I can even imagine. In the shadow of wings that are larger than life. But there is fear. I have come to understand the beauty of suffering. A dependence on God and a perspective on the marrow of True Life that only pain can bring.
But times like these – I do not see beauty. I see loved ones who are fearing for their safety, and I feel a righteous anger that screams to my heart:
“This must end”
Pray with us.
Believing and standing in faith in the shadow of a God who is trustworthy and a sovereign Lord.
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness - a light has dawned" Isaiah 9:2
I am.
His, b