It's the children who suffer... couldn't agree with this joint statement of NGO's working in Kenya more. Pray for all those working to protect the welfare of children in Kenya today.
blessings,
Eric
Statement released by members of Child Line Kenya on the situation of children
While politicians dispute, people demonstrate and security forces battle on the streets, it is the children of Kenya who have the most to lose.
Thousands of innocent children are suffering in displacement camps or on the streets, lacking the basic essentials of food, warmth and security - the right of every child.
Camping in the open, they are susceptible to sickness but lack access to basic health care. Many are prey to sexual exploitation and abuse, because their parents, killed or lost in the post-election chaos, cannot protect them. Traffickers become the next danger.
Some have been traumatised by watching their parents, siblings, friends and neighbours murdered with machetes, or gang raped. Others have been raped themselves. Who will comfort them when they go to sleep tonight?
Riots bring further danger. At least one child has been killed as he innocently played with friends - playing being the right of every child. More have been maimed in the cross fire. And, unless they are allowed to return to school, many will lose the chance of economic prosperity that is also their right.
The children of Kenya are not the future - they are the present. If we do not protect them today they will have no tomorrow. For their own social and economic stability they must be allowed to live as children again. We call on the Government of Kenya and all responsible parties involved in the current dispute to remember that children have the most to lose and to take the necessary measures to protect and care for them, so that they can enjoy the respect, security, love and dignity that is their undisputed right.
Statement released by members of Childline Kenya : SOS Children's Villages Kenya, Childline Kenya, Goal Kenya, Plan International Kenya, The Cradle, Hope World Wide, Kuna Tumaini Counselling Centre, Children's Legal Action Network (CLAN), ICT Policy Centre, Shangilia Mtoto wa Africa, Bosco Boys, Gender Violence Recovery Centre of Nairobi Women's Hospital, Naivasha Community Project
[ 2 comments ] ( 146 views ) | related link
Took this photo out the window of our van one afternoon on the mara. It came out looking airbrushed... but it's untouched... just a big old lion, looking regal, strong- afternoon wind blowing the tall grass -a great symbol for all of Kenya... resting, giving us little or no thought. Each time I've seen wildlife it's been from a safe, protected position. I don't know what it's like to live in fear of an animal like this, can't begin to imagine it. I was frightened getting stuck in a huge rainstorm, safely in our van, yet surrounded by a large pride of lions. The prospect of getting out to push our way through the mud, through the lions... well... let's just say we were thankful that the roar of a stalled engine won out over the roars of hungry lions!
Sometimes things shut down... and then begin to work again... just when we need them.
My Kenya blog was down throughout most of the elections and the following violence. At the time I was frustrated, feeling as if I had no voice... no way to convey my love to so many of you facing life challenges in Kenya. In retrospect, it seems that all things work together for good... Sometimes we can say things that don't need to be said. Say things that in retrospect and reflection we might wish had gone unspoken. Heat, emotions, fear, uncertainty... each of them can push our buttons... even from afar.
I want to learn the lesson of The Lion: not the one in the photo, or even the symbol of Kenya, but The Lion of Judah; Jesus. Today I'm thankful for the downtime during the crisis. Thankful for my forced time in reflection. Thankful that God's reminded me that He's in control- in the darkest moments of life. He's in control today: here in California, in Kenya... He's in control. We can trust Him: all things work together for good for those who love God and live according to His purposes. I'm trusting Him for the peace and safety of Kenya today. I'm trusting Him to guide my steps when it's time for me to act. I'm trusting Him for peace.
May His Peace surround you in all you do today,
Eric
[ 7 comments ] ( 581 views ) | related link
Two weeks from today, January 13, 2008, I was to preach in a thriving church in the heart of Nairobi. We were excited about visiting with old friends and meeting new ones. Last week the church was burned to the ground. The pastor lost his home and all their personal belongings. Many families... like tens of thousands across Kenya... have taken losses that will take years to rebuild. Unles The Lord intervenes- I won't be in Kenya in the next two weeks, possibly not for months to come. Seems impossible.
I don't understand the social/political issues tearing Kenya apart today- not well enough to comment on them. I understand being angry, feeling cheated, like the bottoms fallen out on our hopes and dreams... people everywhere know pain. Mostly right now I just feel so far away from people I love. People I was looking forward to sharing a cup of tea with. A community that's opened their arms to us with a gentle embrace... and I'm heart broken for their losses and praying for healing.
To my friends in Kenya- I love you, we'll be together soon, hold on to hope... hold on to The Lord. He'll never let go of you... even when His church is burning. Pray that He'll open the door for us to be together again soon. Know that we're praying for peace.
much love and many prayers,
Eric
[ 3 comments ] ( 117 views ) | related link
http://allafrica.com/stories/200708241090.html
One of the highlights of our first trip to Kenya was the drive from Nairobi to Kitale. Each turn held a new discovery: from the vistas stretching out across the Great Rift Valley as we left Nairobi, to the incredible shades of millions of pink flamingos on Lake Nakuru, to construction rest stops- thick with baboons fighting for the trash thrown off by passersby… it’s an embrace by Kenya not soon forgotten. It’s a long drive. The road is sub-standard and under repair. Those who travel to Kitale more often than we do- fly to Eldoret, to avoid the hassle. Sitting in my office just now, the drive in sounds like a dream, surrounded by all I know so well and far from the fond memories of those long, dusty, bumpy rides… makes me want to return just to cross the country.
The article, in the link above, was in today’s news: it seems more controversy’s brewing over the repair to the Nairobi/Eldoret roadway. Nakuru is a beautiful city beside the lake, just off the main road. The road through Nakuru has numerous historic points of interest, however, to the casual traveler, what stand out are the thousands of Jacaranda trees. In dry season they provide shade for weary workers and travelers- in spring, beautiful purple flowers welcome all who pass by. I can’t imagine anyone cutting these gorgeous trees down- but that’s what’s happening.
Growing up in Long Beach, California, Jacaranda’s were a part of our landscape. They scatter the city and make a mess as their blossoms fade and fall. But on the streets that are lined with the trees- one street is lined for over a mile with them –people take pride in their beauty. Nakuru’s trees are so much bigger and they line the city streets for miles. Some were planted before independence; other’s by Kenyatta himself, others by his wife and hundreds of trees put in the hard ground by good working people with a vision of miles of blossoms… miles of shade… a living invitation to their home… something to set them apart from other growing cities in the valley.
Now they’re being cut down to make a road more passable… short sighted construction at best. Kenya has huge problems. The coming elections are bringing many to light. But Kenya is also filled with people of hope, beauty and fellowship- community’s who appreciate simple things: like trees planted by those who’ve gone before us and now leave a memory in all who pass by.
I’ve made fun of the ongoing construction on the Nairobi/Eldoret roadway. I’ve complained about the bumps, ruts, mud and general neglect that hamper ease of travel. I’ve always looked forward to that oasis moment, the streets lined with Jacaranda’s, our brief time in Nakuru… in fact I’ve made it a detour in sunshine and rain: someday I plan on hanging out there for awhile. When I do, I hope the streets are lined with shade giving trees, each with their own story, giving rest to the weary… I’ll gladly suffer the bumps through that section of town.
This Beautiful Photo taken on The Shores of Lake Nakuru
[ add comment ] | related link
I spoke with our daughter Julia last night. Their trip to Rwanda was an incredible success and they’ve now begun their work in Kenya. One of the concerns we face each time we go to Africa is what we’ll do if someone gets sick… it happened in Rwanda and the someone was my sister Kathleen. She was able to get medical treatment in Kigali but unfortunately was forced to cut her trip short, returning to the US with her husband, leaving her children, now adults, and Julia, behind. Pray for her continued healing. Pray also for Phil, Erica and Pat, who I’m sure are each worried about their mom in the midst of being excited about their work in Kitale.
Sad news was that David, owner of the camp we’ve stayed at in Mariche Pass, while working in W. Pokot, was killed in an auto accident recently. Hard to imagine that with all the miles we log on our freeways each day, while David’s working a lifetime away from the nearest freeway or traffic jam in one of the most remote places on the planet, could die while traveling around Kitale. He and his wife Hadat have always been gracious hosts and welcomed us in whether we had reservations or not; their generosity to so many will not go unrewarded.
David was very good at sharing the stories of the wilderness over a cup or chai late into the night or a bowl of ugi in the morning. He had ventured into a desert region and set up his little outpost as an academic research station used by universities and educators from around the world. In an area with almost none of the creature comforts of modern society he had created a little oasis beside the river that enabled groups like ours to work on the edge of a frontier that would have been otherwise completely out of reach.
It wasn’t modern… not by a long shot… the only electricity during dinner, from one small generator and that only when they had diesel. Oil burning lanterns were left each night at the doorstep of thatched huts we slept in for those willing to brave a walk in the dark to find an outdoor latrine, (David’s advice was to stay as close to the hut’s step as possible after dark and just go!). And wonderfully powerful cold water outdoor showers, in the midst of the desert, shaded by giant acacias filled with monkeys, curious and laughing from above.
In February of this year we were there during a wind storm that blew lanterns and anything else not tied down clear out of the grounds… fortunately there was only one other guest and all was well. Last October we received over two inches of rain while we were trying to sleep… the most they’d had in decades in their parched part of the planet… and our thatched roof leaked life a sieve. David greeted us in the morning with a smile, fresh from measuring the new rainfall and checking it against records, anxious to share the blessings. Rain in the desert can save entire communities.
Every visit to Mariche Pass held adventure and David helped make each of them possible. It’s going to be a much lonelier planet without him on it. I was fortunate to not just know him, but to call him a friend. He extended his arms to strangers, developed pre-school programs for tribal children, facilitated the building of medical clinics and schools in rural villages that had never received modern medical support and so much more. He was well known, well loved by people in the region and by those of us who travel to lonely places in Kenya and he’ll be greatly missed. Please keep his wife Hadat, the staff of Mariche Pass, his son who’s traveled from England to help in this time and all those they employed, educated and undergirded with their work in your prayers.
Characters: David was definitely one of them and Kenya, as well as the world, has lost a bit of its character with his passing.
I’ll miss him.
[ 8 comments ] ( 277 views ) | related link
http://news.bbc.co.uk/media/avdb/news/w ... 6x9_bb.asx
A letter came in the mail this week from a friend in Kenya. It’s always fun getting mail from other countries. The three stamps, 1, 35KSH and 2, 30KSH, are beautiful: one has a picture of a coconut, the other two of “groundnuts,” that look just like peanuts. Opening it, reading the greetings, the few lines to catch me up to speed and the plea for help, the cry for money… I thought of this friend… and I remembered Kenya. Not the Kenya filled with violence reported almost daily internationally, but the Kenya filled with friends and I realized how deeply I miss them, how I miss our work, still in its infancy and how much I’d forgotten about this land and these people we’ve come to love.
Local news doesn’t cover so much of the world we care about; places we’ve come to love and have invested our hearts and ministry in. Last year violence erupted in the community around our children’s home in Mexico. Local police were kidnapped and decapitated by drug lords. Fear and tensions ran high. It barely made the news, even here in Southern California, just minutes away. Entire communities could die off- some communities ARE dying off –in Kenya, and we’ll not hear about it. I’d like to think that it has more to do with our busy lives and just not having time for an entire world’s worth of news… but then Paris Hilton captures world headlines… for no particularly good reason and I’m reminded of how easy it is to not just forget Kenya, but to ignore her completely.
The letter came from a man who’s headmaster of a little private school in a small community. He dreams of completing his education- he doesn’t have a college degree and he wants one desperately. His work hasn’t required it. It’ll cost more money than he’ll ever recoup in salary but he dreams of a greater education: he loves math. He’s been accepted to a university- he sent his acceptance letter and tuition needs… and asked for my help. I’m praying he sent it to several dozen other friends as well- praying that someone is able to come along side him and scholarship his entire education –he’s worthy. He’s one of so many needs in Kenya that cross my desk on a regular basis. Now they have names, pretty stamps, hand written requests… each one touches my heart, most, never even receive a reply, much less any money.
The letter closes with regards to friends that have visited the school with me in the past, an invitation to those planning our trip this August led by Pastor Ken, a reminder of his desire to begin an exchange program with teachers from the US and finally, blessings and prayers: he closes the letter simply- “from your brother.”
“Your brother…” and my heart is stirred again to remember- I’ve been warmly embraced and welcomed into communities that had no reason to love and welcome me- and yet they did. I’ve sat with the staff of this school and led an impromptu in service for her instructors- my first career was as an educator –and their commitment, their desire to serve and see the best in each of their students, inspired me. I’ve stood on the simple soil- wind blown, barren and dry –and in the wet season, grass tall, green and beautiful, just to play and celebrate life with their students. I have a debt to pay for their love, a debt to pay for their open arms, a debt to pay… and so I write… and pray… “Our Father,” that I might never forget my brother, who in his simple surroundings, prays for me, saves his shillings, sends a letter reaching out and hopes that I might be the one who can help in his time of need.
Elections are coming in Kenya. Violence is moving through her communities. Lines are being drawn and lives are being lost. In the midst of it all there are dreamers, believing that something better is out ahead of them. They’re willing to do the work but they need someone ready to help them pay the price. If you’d like to help, click the money button today. I promise to see that a man worthy of our support is lifted up and when we lift up one brother, we lift up the hopes and dreams of all mankind. Don’t forget Kenya.
Your brother,
Eric
[ 1 comment ] ( 48 views ) | related link
Kenya has produced the world’s greatest distance runners for decades. They’ve become national heroes and among those of us who run recreationally, a source of constant inspiration. Experts attribute their ability to run great distances at speeds the rest of us can barely maintain on a bicycle to a collection of factors, number 1 among them being Kenya’s great altitude; most of the populated areas of Kenya are well above 5,000 feet, usually followed by a running tradition that has taken on a “snowball” effect among the general population. The same way kids from my generation wanted to play ball because of Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays or Sandy Koufax. Larger than life heroes drew us in to a sport we might otherwise have only paid casual attention to. The great Kenyan runners are considered great- not just because they’re fast- but because when they earned success on the international stage they never forgot Kenya. They took pride in being what we call them: Kenyan runners.
They run fast- but they don’t run away.
Everyone in Kenya knows how easy it would be for them to run away from their home country. Lord knows there’s reason enough… but when they run… they run for Kenya, not from Kenya. That said, to introduce an email I received this week from a friend who pastors in Nairobi. This man is part of a group of pastors serving some of the poorest people on the planet in conditions most in the states will never see and can’t imagine.
THE EMAIL
Just imagine pastor
How people are killing one another in Kenya for nothing. We have seen things that are putting this nation in fear. Many people have been killed through tribal clashes on Mt. Elgon. My pastor you could not bear to see people who lived together fighting. And not only there- but all the slums in Nairobi. We are in prayers. Remember many people have no houses, children no schooling. Burning of houses created nakedness to many families.
Your coming this time must take you more days to visit with any support to them. NO more death recorded. Last week was 240 Mt. Elgon, Molo 139, Nairobi slums 65. The most affected are those.
We thank God your words to pastors were not in vain because now we are praying together. Unity is there now. We can pray together now and work in unity. When you come it will be better now. WE shall have revival and a conference together. All our church members need to hear that. All have agreed that.
This pastor, along with his brother’s and sister’s in the ministry, are watching an already bad situation in their country, get worse. Tribalism, or the return of first loyalty to a person’s tribe and away from their patriotism to Kenya, is on the rise. And it’s not just in rural areas like Mt. Elgon: it’s in the heart of Nairobi, in Molo, a city that we’d consider close enough to be a suburb of Nairobi and the fear is that it will continue to spread.
The hope of Kenya rest not with might, but with those who serve The Lord. Those willing to run well the race marked out for us. Those willing to go without fear into places like Molo, where press coverage will not follow and media attention will be scant. The hope of healing Kenya is in her pastors… in her church… in our Lord.
The Good News for Kenya is that her people don’t run away from a problem. While Nike and Adidas poor millions into runners that show promise, comparatively, money and support from the church barely trickles in to meet the needs of pastors of promise. Thousands of leaders are working to leave a lasting impression, not their own, but that of Christ Jesus. Many serve in solitude: walking from one rural community to the next, their very lives a prayer. Others, minister in the midst of the masses, quickly overlooked in their own community, feeling lost, isolated, yet yearning to do something great for God, to serve as an instrument in His Healing Hands. Most are quick to learn and ready to receive all we share with joy and celebration.
We don’t have to go with a solution in order to serve. The people of Kenya are waiting for you and me to come along side them in love, to let them know that they’re not alone in these trying times, to tell them that we won’t run but that we’d love to learn to “run our race to win” side by side, stride by stride, along with them.
Yesterday, May 22, CNN headlined the violence currently spreading across Kenya in a well written article you can find at here: http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/africa/05 ... index.html
It’s sad. Makes one want to run. We have a choice- we can run to help, or we can run away. What will you do?
[ 4 comments ] ( 388 views ) | related link
So many sad bits of news have arrived in my email box from Kenya recently. It becomes easy to dread one more note of heart break or to avoid hearing about what’s happening. It’s easy to fall into the frustration so many share with me when I tell them about our work, sometimes they say it straight out, other times you can see it as their eyes glaze over: “What do you think you can accomplish?”
It’s a fair question.
The brutal battle for land and power continues on Mt. Elgon. I’m no closer to understanding the reasons behind it… and I’ve read everything that’s come my way… It’s just so difficult for me to imagine justification for the slaughter. But I remember a friend in the Maasai community telling me bluntly: “Murder is very common among the Maasai.” The admission seemed impossible to me. Even watching the our own evening news, with the violence on our streets as well as thousands of young men and women killed on the mid-east battlefield, I would swallow hard before saying that “Murder is very common” among us.
One thing that’s been clear to me as each note, shared journal, news article or email has arrived is that something deep inside me feels as if I’m abandoning friends as I live my life of comfort. Particularly disturbing was the news of the recent out break of violence and death in Kitale as refugees from Mt. Elgon seek the nearby town for safety. The faces in the news papers now look like faces of friends. It’s no longer “just” nameless Africans in one more nameless catastrophe… it’s now people I love in a place that I know.
A friend recently told me that until we began our work in Kenya she had no idea of the pain and suffering going on in Africa. She’s educated, well read, and lives with a mind to learn… it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen the pictures out of Biafra when over one million died in the late ‘60’s, that somehow the deaths of hundreds of thousands in Ethiopia and the Eastern Horn had escaped her during the drought and famine years of the ‘70’s or that she’d not heard about the rise of HIV in Africa that’s killed millions since the ‘80’s, or even that she’d somehow missed watching “Hotel Rwanda” and learned of the genocide of the ‘90’s. Most people, at least most who’ve read newspapers or watched TV, have always had an image of the loss in Africa… even if it’s like Rwanda, a decade late and a million lives short of being any help, we know it’s there. It’s just become acceptable to us: Africans die faceless, nameless deaths. What can we do about it?
People ask me why I go and I always give the same simple response: “So I’ll never forget.” A “once in a lifetime” mission trip is a fantastic opportunity to serve. It’s also an easy way to excuse our indifference as if we’ve somehow “done our part,” “pleased God,” and that’s it. We’re not all called to the same part of the planet; however, Christ sent each of us with the same command: “Go, into the whole world and make disciples.” It’s hard to “Go!” if you’ve scheduled a life that overlooks the heartbreak of the world around us. Harder still, if when millions are dying, one child in poverty every 3 seconds, we’re so busy feeding ourselves that the suffering that cries out- decade after decade –generation after generation, continues… without us stepping up and saying: “Hear am I Lord. Send me.”
A group of young men- just teens really –dressed up like police, jumped in the back of a pick up truck and drove through the marketplace in Kitale last week and opened fire with AK 47’s. At least 10 people were killed during a 20 minute spree of violence. Some store owners were pulled out of their shops with their children, forced to kneel on the sidewalk, then brutally slaughtered. Just a third the loss at Virginia Tech in one morning, not a fraction the loss in Iraq, more die in killings each week across LA, of hunger and exploitation in Tijuana… but somehow, last night as I watched video from our October trip to Kenya, when we spent a couple of days working in Kitale, I saw the face of death on each person in the scenes of us walking through the marketplace and I heard The Command of Christ to “Go.”
We go because He sent us. We go to serve. We go because, now that we know, how can we stay home? We go because our hearts have been “wonderfully broken” by Africa. We go because “You can leave Africa but Africa never leaves you.” We go because God’s opened the door… and who are we to say no…
What do we hope to accomplish? We hope to serve, meet a need, to grow, to share in God’s great adventure and at the heart of all we are… to please Him.
We have a trip going in August ’07 – and February ’08, Lord Willing. You’re invited. Enjoy the video. Keep the people of Kenya, Kitale and Mt. Elgon in your prayers.
Blessings,
Eric
PS
To view the video click on the following link: http://video.yahoo.com/video/play?vid=497567
[ 1 comment ] ( 82 views ) | related link
My sister helped found a weekend seminar for teenage girls called “The Promise.” It’s goal is to give young women Christian support and guidance, allowing them to make the best decisions possible for their lives. It’s not easy being a teenager. Society forces young women… sometimes when they’re just girls… into making decisions they’re probably not ready or equipped to make. I’m not sure, but I think the promise is meant to be part of a positive “rite of passage” from girlhood to womanhood here in the US. It’s a lofty and worthy goal in a community that’s surrendered most “rites of passage” for their teens over to peer or commercial control.
The young women pictured above, little more than girls themselves, know exactly what to expect at their rite of passage. The Maasai, like many other pastoral people groups in Africa, “circumcise” their girls before they spend time together- then time alone- and finally are married away to a much older man who may already have one or more wives. The “circumcision” now commonly referred to as “Female Genital Mutilation” (FGM) is a physical and expected “rite of passage.” It seems brutal and primitive to many in the developing world and it’s long been illegal in all of Kenya, however, the practice continues in full view today. You can read much more about it at www.maasaieducation.org, (MED), the group that hosted us into the interior regions of their homeland this year.
Lillian Seenoi, head of the FGM Rescue Project for MED, enters villages on wedding day and snatches young girls away from their community, families and waiting husband as if she were pulling them out of a burning building. Families that have already paid large dowries and waiting husbands are not amused and she often needs to enter the community with well armed assistance. There is no 911 to call and her work is being carried out hours away from Nairobi, where the laws against FGM were laid down. Still, people are aware that these rites are no longer legal and that marriage under the age of 18 is punishable by jail time in Kenya. When she leaves a village with an 11 or 12 year old girl in tow just moments away from a life that left education, career or something as simple as a monogamous marriage behind her, she feels little guilt.
Lillian is a hard working Maasai woman, from an educated family, with a supportive husband, father and brothers, working with her, who believe there is more for these children to discover than the burden of a child barer, water carrier, who always walks behind. They have a mission statement: “Reinventing the Maasai Woman through Choice and Voice.” It’s more than a slogan.
Once the girls are out of the village they are placed in a rescue house. Here they begin their new education. Together they go through new rites of passage. They learn that there is more for them than life in the village. They are invited to experience a wider world in computer labs. They’re trained and equipped to discover a career path. And most importantly, their families and community are invited in for a time of reconciliation. The ripping out on wedding day leaves scars: emotional, spiritual and financial. The people at MED realize and address these issues. The process is not short: it can take as long as several years. It’s not inexpensive: funding comes in from around the world. Tragically, it’s not wanting for participants: they sometimes have in excess of 100 girls in their rescue center at a time.
Kenya, like many nations in Africa, is divided; divided between those with an education and those without. Much of the developing world still struggles with the battle people like Lillian are fighting. We look to the undeveloped peoples and see something of the “noble savage” of the America’s who were brutally destroyed and wonder if this movement isn’t another form of “westernization” and eventually annihilation of cultures and people groups. MED sees it differently. They see it from the inside, looking out. Inside a culture that treats girls like women and women like property. Inside a culture controlled by the past and losing the strength of their youth. Inside a people of beauty and power, who once equipped with education and the tools of today, will carry the Maasai community into regions of new discovery.
Most days, it begins with the rescue of a little girl and the promise to carry her through to a new image of the Maasai woman: reinvented into a woman of choice, a woman with a voice, a woman with a future and a hope. Their work deserves our prayers. It’s happening on a shoe string budget, with women and men on a mission operating with nerves of steel. It’s lifting up “the least of these” in places most of us will never even dream existed. Check out their site today. I look forward to going back and sharing their work again soon. You can join me.
[ 1 comment ] ( 51 views ) | related link
This Posting is on my personal blog and the Kenya Blog today. Our hearts go out to all those who grieve today- especially the families caught up in the tragedy at Virginia Tech.
Loss at Home
Shock and heartbreak have again touched our homes as the tragedy at Virginia Tech continues to play out on the news. Adjectives we rarely hear in reference to campus life; “massacre,” “slaughter” and a collection of others more commonly associated with horror films, now top web pages at CNN, MSN and front our daily headlines. Well meaning people are talking and writing about how we all grieve the loss of these young lives, this seeming loss of innocence on a university campus.
Watching the news, reading profiles of the victims, we can’t help but have our hearts go out to these families- only the coldest of individuals could not be moved by the devastation wrought in a matter of seconds… minutes… hours… lifetimes… by this young gunman. It’s enough to make us question our own humanity and value system as a people- and we should. This culture of death, violence and corruption is quickly who we’re becoming. This is “us.” We can’t escape the unwanted glare of the spotlight down this dark alley of neglect we’re so quickly accepting as another facet of our daily news programming. Tragically, with each event, we’re a little less shocked and few solutions are lifted up.
But for dozens of families- most we’ll never meet- many we’ll only see a picture of on TV or hear an uncle or aunt interviewed as the only willing participant in the media coverage, they truly grieve… life will never be the same. The deepest investment of their heart- the reason for their home and so many late nights at work- the child they coached and encouraged through dreams that were always looking forward… “You can do it son.” “Just stick with it sweetheart.” “We’re so proud of you.” Have come to an unwanted end and won’t be coming home after this semester. When the murdered and wounded of Virginia Tech fall off our “news cycle” like Columbine did, like the killing of the little Amish children did, there will still be an empty bedroom, t-ball trophies on the wall, unfulfilled dreams and clothes in the closet for families of each individual killed.
These families grieve. We sit in the shadow of their grief and in our best moments, pray for their comfort- wish there was more we could do… and more often, embrace our own children, with a phone call- or, if we’re close enough, hug them tightly –maybe buy them lunch, and silently thank God they were spared… whisper a plea for continued protection over them… this is how it should be… this is not grieving.
Both of our children went away to college and lived in dorms. Both of our kids returned- like the great majority of young adults do –safe, forever changed by college life – never the same little boy or girl we sent off to college –but safe. I’ll never forget the tears we shed or the moment we said “goodbye.” It was like confronting an unexpected sadness that we couldn’t shake for weeks.
Our daughter went to a state university: we’d gone to the parent days and walked through each step of the assimilation process with her- but she was our first born- first out of the house, I was devastated. I’d unwisely promised to keep a church obligation later the same evening, leaving my wife to finish the final hours with her at the dorm after we’d kissed, cried and said goodbye… I felt like such a big baby. That night, people moved around me, talked, asked me questions and I responded like a man in a trance- my heart, my mind, “I” was someplace else. For weeks, I’d walk by her empty bedroom, sometimes sit on the edge of her bed… heck, sometimes, if no one was around, I’d throw myself across it and weep openly.
My daughter wasn’t brutally and unexpectedly murdered- she was just growing up –and I couldn’t deal with it. I felt like no one knew my pain…
Our son went to a private Christian university that offered an entire weekend for mom and dad to take a bath in letting go of their kid. Having been down the road once- knowing fully how much it hurt –we jumped in with both feet and sought all the help they offered. It was good. I was smart enough not to schedule a thing for days around the big goodbye- I’d learned. Even still, when they sent “the kids” off to the dorms after a worship service together and a few final moments to say goodbye… my wife and I found a bench on that little campus, held each other as tightly as we could and cried our hearts out. Our little boy was “grown up” and moving away to college… hours away. Even watching other parents go through the same ritual, we felt uniquely alone, surely no one could know our pain at letting go… our joy, our pride.
Our son didn’t have his life shattered by a gunshot, his dreams ended by a young man he’d never even met. He was doing what every parent prays and works for their children to do- living out his dream- growing up. We were still ill prepared to confront the moment.
The families of the dead wake this morning with no hope of graduation. Loved ones murdered: today their hopes are in Heaven. The tears they shed are not those of a mom or dad learning how to let go of a growing child- they’ve done that. They now grieve the ultimate loss… their children will never come home. Their only hope of reunion is in The Lord. Like King David and every other parent forced to release a child to death too soon, they’re invited to embrace The Hope of our future Homecoming. The trance they walked the night their daughter moved out- now an attractive memory. The final embrace as their son walked to a new dorm- a precious part of letting go they hope never to lose.
Grief: it touches us all. Love is always tempered by the reality of life and death. Carol Kent, in her book on loss: When I Lay My Isaac Down, openly discusses the pain and suffering that comes with the midnight call every parent dreads. The loss of hope when a child- in her case –a son, who was president of the National Honor Society, a graduate of Annapolis and just beginning the joy of family life and career when they received the call that shattered everything; death… gunfire… murder in a random parking lot. Unbelievable tragedy, an entire gun emptied into the back- instant death –so many lives changed forever. Their son, their only son, who’d given them so much promise, joy, hope… had been a valuable reason for living… was now a murderer. Life would never be the same for two families. One man would never breathe again.
How does one continue? She tells the story of Abraham and his faith in giving his son Isaac back to God. She recounts how she day by day, is able to face her new reality, the mother of a murderer… now living behind bars for life. Reading the book this week I couldn’t help but think of the families of the Virginia Tech students and professors as they each in their own ways, in the ways families always have, try to survive this darkness and find reason to live. We all pray they experience comfort and grace beyond any they’ve ever imagined in the days and years to come. Each of us must ask ourselves: “How do we continue?” The temptation is to pray for something to take the spotlight off of this dark moment… but that won’t change the path we’re on.
The families who’ve lost a loved one this week will never be the same- and they know it- we all know it. American society will also never be the same… we just don’t know it yet. How many mass killings will it require until we’re ready for change? Our children pay the price. Until then, we lay our “Isaac’s” down at the altar of an uncertain world.
Talk with your family about the tragedy in Virginia. Give your friends and loved ones the opportunity to vent their fears, pain and grief – it’s the least we can do. Pray for those who are directly impacted, who’ve lost loved ones, who are in positions of authority and now seek a solution. Turn to The Father. His Heart breaks. He holds The Solution to our heart break today. We can trust Him. May He richly surround those in loss and suffering just now with The Fullness of His Mercy, Comfort and Healing Grace in this time of deep loss and death.
Blessings,
Eric
PS
Thanks So Much to our friends in Kenya and around the world who are lifting up the US today. Keep all our pastors and church leaders working with the families of Virginia Tech at the front of your prayers. Thanks
[ 1 comment ] ( 29 views ) | related link
Next
Calendar
