Work in Africa is not for the faint of heart. We realize that again and again, as we see those who are there long-term looking trauma, death, and dysfunction in the face. It can be overwhelming. How important to continually remind ourselves of the One we serve, the One who promises justice to the oppressed and healing for the broken-hearted! We must come back to Him repeatedly, not only on behalf of the suffering but also for those who work with them.
In our travels we have been privileged to meet quite a number of young people who are wholeheartedly laying down their lives in Africa. It may not be universal, but many of them struggle with loneliness. They know they are where God wants them, they experience fulfillment in their work, but they long for the encouragement and camaraderie and “coming-alongside” that happens in deep friendships. To serve in relative obscurity, to learn to know Jesus as their best friend and have few others, this is a lonely path.
The intensity of need is also heavy on these warriors’ shoulders. Listen as one bares his soul:
“I was angry, confused, outraged and full of compassion all at the same time. Two questions were asked in the sex education class I give each Friday to children between the ages 9-16 that made me react in that manner. After MUCH and extensive talk on what rape is, one of the teachers asked these questions that have changed forever how I see my children. The first was:
“Who has seen someone being raped?” To my disbelief, three children raised their hands and said the following:
" I saw a 20-year old raping a three-year old girl"
"I saw my uncle raping a girl in my room"
"I saw a man raping my neighbor’s daughter”
The second question was, "Who has raped someone?" To my horror and disbelief, four boys raised their hands and said:
"I asked one girl to have sex with me, she refused. I offered her money, she still refused, so I forced her to my house and raped her"(14 years)
"I have had sex and have raped so many girls, I don’t know how many"(14 years)
"I forced my neighbor’s daughter to have sex with me. I was ten, she was nine"(11 years)
"My brother got raped by a 15-year old" (he was eight)
As they talked, it felt like someone was jabbing a sword into my heart. I wanted to cry, I wanted to run, I wanted to hit something.
What about the girls? They won’t talk. They all say they have never been raped but some of them have this look of shame that I know so well. When they are ready they will talk. Maybe they will never talk to me, maybe they will talk to someone else, but I know that I have opened a can of worms and healing HAS to begin.
I haven’t cried; as you know, I hate doing that, but God is always merciful and faithful. He will make me cry again. Before writing this email, I lay on my bed and I had this thought: I am like Jeremiah in the valley of dry bones. God is telling me to speak to these dry bones so that they live again, but how? My children are the dry bones. My children are broken, broken. They don’t know love, they don’t know how to love. I am asking for prayers once again. In such a case it is so easy for me to be dragged down by the devil. I need your support through prayer. If the Lord gives you a word on how to go about helping my children, please feel free to tell me because right now I am still waiting for the Lord to tell me what to do with the boys. This problem is huge but I just want to concentrate on the ones that God brings my way and not to stretch myself too far. I want to find his rest everyday before I go to work because this is also a spiritual problem.”
Please, if you have ever been touched by the overwhelming need in Africa and felt that there was nothing you could do—please take a moment right now and pray for these who bear the pain of many to our Father. Your prayers are immediate and effective. If you can give, whether financially or in resources that might help in the issues being dealt with above,
contact us. Maybe you have a word of encouragement for those on the front lines. Finally, if you can go and be the hands and feet of Jesus, if you have counted the cost, there is a place for you.
Yes, there is a cost (and I’m not talking money). The life of Amy Carmichael, a single woman who served the poor in India, is a challenging example to us. She knew well the cost of following Jesus. She knew so well that she almost tried to discourage those who wanted to join her work. She asked potential workers the following questions:
Do you truly desire to live a crucified life? (this may mean doing very humble things joyfully for His Name’s sake.)
Does the thought of hardness draw you or repel you?
Do you realize that we are a family, not an institution? Are you willing to do whatever helps most?
Apart from the Bible, can you name three or four books which have been of vital help to you? Apart from books, what refreshes you most when tired?
Have you ever had opportunity to prove our Lord’s promise to supply temporal as well as spiritual needs?
Can you mention any experience you have passed through in your Christian life which brought you into a new discovery of your union with the crucified, risen, and enthroned Lord?
Amy was a gifted and prolific writer. We include here two of her poems, taken from her biography by Elisabeth Elliot, “A Chance to Die”:
Hast thou no scar?
No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear thee sung as mighty in the land,
I hear them hail thy bright, ascendant star.
Hast thou no scar?
Hast thou no wound?
Yet I was wounded by the archers, spent,
Leaned Me against a tree to die; and rent
By ravening beasts that compassed Me, I swooned;
Hast thou no wound?
No wound? No scar?
Yet, as the Master shall the servant be,
And pierced are the feet that follow Me;
But thine are whole: can he have followed far
Who has no wound nor scar?
Thank God our wounds and scars do not disqualify us for service to Him! Whether through our own poor choices in life or received in the line of battle, our injuries are able to be healed, redeemed, restored. In fact, they are to be expected, especially in working with the needy of the world. Here there is great victory, and around the next corner baffling defeat.
There are no magic formulae, no silver bullets. There is only a great and loving and faithful God, who will lead us as far as our faith will carry us.
Amy knew much loss during her life in India. The year 1912 was particularly difficult. First, her spiritual mother in India died. Amy had counted on her continual prayers and her comfort when times were hard. Four days later, “little Lulla, leader of kindergarten games and all nursery joys, died.” Amy loved each child who was brought to her as her own. “She was the sort of child who nestles into the heart and we could not help her slipping into that innermost place, which perhaps should never be given to any little child. And yet, we cannot love too much.” Shortly thereafter Thomas Walker, leader and Captain of the mission, died suddenly. How did she cope with such as this? She turned to the One who was watching still over her soul with utmost care and trust.
From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher,
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.
From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
(Not thus are spirits fortified,
not this way went the Crucified,)
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me.
Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire.
Let me not sink to be a clod;
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God.
In our travels we have been privileged to meet quite a number of young people who are wholeheartedly laying down their lives in Africa. It may not be universal, but many of them struggle with loneliness. They know they are where God wants them, they experience fulfillment in their work, but they long for the encouragement and camaraderie and “coming-alongside” that happens in deep friendships. To serve in relative obscurity, to learn to know Jesus as their best friend and have few others, this is a lonely path.
The intensity of need is also heavy on these warriors’ shoulders. Listen as one bares his soul:
“I was angry, confused, outraged and full of compassion all at the same time. Two questions were asked in the sex education class I give each Friday to children between the ages 9-16 that made me react in that manner. After MUCH and extensive talk on what rape is, one of the teachers asked these questions that have changed forever how I see my children. The first was:
“Who has seen someone being raped?” To my disbelief, three children raised their hands and said the following:
" I saw a 20-year old raping a three-year old girl"
"I saw my uncle raping a girl in my room"
"I saw a man raping my neighbor’s daughter”
The second question was, "Who has raped someone?" To my horror and disbelief, four boys raised their hands and said:
"I asked one girl to have sex with me, she refused. I offered her money, she still refused, so I forced her to my house and raped her"(14 years)
"I have had sex and have raped so many girls, I don’t know how many"(14 years)
"I forced my neighbor’s daughter to have sex with me. I was ten, she was nine"(11 years)
"My brother got raped by a 15-year old" (he was eight)
As they talked, it felt like someone was jabbing a sword into my heart. I wanted to cry, I wanted to run, I wanted to hit something.
What about the girls? They won’t talk. They all say they have never been raped but some of them have this look of shame that I know so well. When they are ready they will talk. Maybe they will never talk to me, maybe they will talk to someone else, but I know that I have opened a can of worms and healing HAS to begin.
I haven’t cried; as you know, I hate doing that, but God is always merciful and faithful. He will make me cry again. Before writing this email, I lay on my bed and I had this thought: I am like Jeremiah in the valley of dry bones. God is telling me to speak to these dry bones so that they live again, but how? My children are the dry bones. My children are broken, broken. They don’t know love, they don’t know how to love. I am asking for prayers once again. In such a case it is so easy for me to be dragged down by the devil. I need your support through prayer. If the Lord gives you a word on how to go about helping my children, please feel free to tell me because right now I am still waiting for the Lord to tell me what to do with the boys. This problem is huge but I just want to concentrate on the ones that God brings my way and not to stretch myself too far. I want to find his rest everyday before I go to work because this is also a spiritual problem.”
Please, if you have ever been touched by the overwhelming need in Africa and felt that there was nothing you could do—please take a moment right now and pray for these who bear the pain of many to our Father. Your prayers are immediate and effective. If you can give, whether financially or in resources that might help in the issues being dealt with above,
contact us. Maybe you have a word of encouragement for those on the front lines. Finally, if you can go and be the hands and feet of Jesus, if you have counted the cost, there is a place for you.Yes, there is a cost (and I’m not talking money). The life of Amy Carmichael, a single woman who served the poor in India, is a challenging example to us. She knew well the cost of following Jesus. She knew so well that she almost tried to discourage those who wanted to join her work. She asked potential workers the following questions:
Do you truly desire to live a crucified life? (this may mean doing very humble things joyfully for His Name’s sake.)
Does the thought of hardness draw you or repel you?
Do you realize that we are a family, not an institution? Are you willing to do whatever helps most?
Apart from the Bible, can you name three or four books which have been of vital help to you? Apart from books, what refreshes you most when tired?
Have you ever had opportunity to prove our Lord’s promise to supply temporal as well as spiritual needs?
Can you mention any experience you have passed through in your Christian life which brought you into a new discovery of your union with the crucified, risen, and enthroned Lord?
Amy was a gifted and prolific writer. We include here two of her poems, taken from her biography by Elisabeth Elliot, “A Chance to Die”:
Hast thou no scar?
No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear thee sung as mighty in the land,
I hear them hail thy bright, ascendant star.
Hast thou no scar?
Hast thou no wound?
Yet I was wounded by the archers, spent,
Leaned Me against a tree to die; and rent
By ravening beasts that compassed Me, I swooned;
Hast thou no wound?
No wound? No scar?
Yet, as the Master shall the servant be,
And pierced are the feet that follow Me;
But thine are whole: can he have followed far
Who has no wound nor scar?
Thank God our wounds and scars do not disqualify us for service to Him! Whether through our own poor choices in life or received in the line of battle, our injuries are able to be healed, redeemed, restored. In fact, they are to be expected, especially in working with the needy of the world. Here there is great victory, and around the next corner baffling defeat.
There are no magic formulae, no silver bullets. There is only a great and loving and faithful God, who will lead us as far as our faith will carry us.Amy knew much loss during her life in India. The year 1912 was particularly difficult. First, her spiritual mother in India died. Amy had counted on her continual prayers and her comfort when times were hard. Four days later, “little Lulla, leader of kindergarten games and all nursery joys, died.” Amy loved each child who was brought to her as her own. “She was the sort of child who nestles into the heart and we could not help her slipping into that innermost place, which perhaps should never be given to any little child. And yet, we cannot love too much.” Shortly thereafter Thomas Walker, leader and Captain of the mission, died suddenly. How did she cope with such as this? She turned to the One who was watching still over her soul with utmost care and trust.
From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher,
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.
From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
(Not thus are spirits fortified,
not this way went the Crucified,)
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me.
Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire.
Let me not sink to be a clod;
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God.
