Finding the Good Shepherd

This week I took a two-day personal retreat at the Good Shepherd Peace Center a few miles outside of Juba. Getting there was a bit of an adventure (of course!) as I tried traveling by public bus on a route we have not used before.  But as soon as I arrived, I felt myself relax and let out a big sigh, eager to leave behind the hustle, noise, and dust of the city for a few days. I spent long stretches of unstructured time praying, reading, watching nature, taking slow walks, and thinking. I felt like I was experiencing the verse in Psalm 63 that says “my soul is satisfied as with the richest of foods” as I reconnected with God, refocused, and was refreshed.

On my way to catch the bus…

Here are a few of the mental images that stood out to me during this brief retreat:

• The iridescent blue of the swallows as they swoop by me.
• Sinking knee-deep in mud when I tried to wade in the river
• The silhouette of an owl at dusk, perched at the top of a nearby tree
• A mourning dove’s call, like the purring of a contented cat
• Sitting alone in the chapel, enjoying the sense of God’s love and presence as I prayed.
• The amazing variety of patterns and sizes of the butterflies, dancing around the flowers.

           

• The greeting of the hunter I encountered on my morning walk, carrying a bow and arrow as big as he was.
• An inspiring conversation with a Catholic sister about her experiences in South Sudan, who declared “God sent you here! I’m so excited to meet you!”

The chapel at the Good Shepherd Center

I returned to Juba refreshed, refocused, and reminded that depending on God and focusing on Him is what will accomplish more than any effort I put in on my own. Does taking a retreat sound like something you need too? If so, I hope that you can find the time and space, in whatever way it looks like for you, to step back, disconnect from the demands and routine, and reconnect to the Source.

“…In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength.” (Isaiah 30:15)

Lord, in Your Mercy

Brief Caution:  Some of the content of this blog post may be disturbing.  Please be prayerful if/when you read, in a good state of mind.  

Standing in the hall 48 hours later, just behind the one-inch-diameter-hole with jagged rays emanating out from it in the large vertical pane of glass, felt a bit eerie and surreal.  I wondered what the tall, slight young man in the white shirt thought that morning when he woke up.  Surely, he did not say to himself, “Today is the last day of my life; I will be sure to make the most of this day.” 

Standing behind the window on the first floor
two days later; seeing my own reflection feels a bit eerie...

Friday afternoon around 3:30pm I was taking a short nap after a long day at the college.  I was looking forward to getting up shortly so that Kristi and I could go visit Mary, Galdino and other friends at the “mahel shayi” (tea shop) located in the “suk” (local market) across the busy Konyokonyo Road which separates our four story building from the market and the Malakia Police Station.  At first one might be tempted to think that the sound was the harmless popping of firecrackers, but quickly it was clear that these pops were something altogether different, something altogether ominous.  At least twenty gun shots went off in rapid succession in less than one minute in the vicinity of the neighboring police station.  Reacting, I did what most people unthinkingly do in such a situation.  I went to take a look.  I found myself in our hallway, observing the scene from three flights above.  Traffic had come to a standstill as people were either running, ducking for cover, or frozen in shock.   

Peering curiously down into the scene below I was suddenly jolted by the extremely loud gunshot which seemingly shook our entire building.  Hitting the deck, I began crawling on my stomach back to our apartment, now 20 feet away.  What was first a curiosity now turned into what felt like a war zone.  Halfway back, the tall, slight young man with the white shirt came ambling as fast as his wounded body would allow him, rounding the corner from our second floor stairwell.  My mind took a moment to register what my eyes were seeing.  The tall, slight young South Sudanese man was half bent over and his white shirt was soaked with blood.  His body, now not able to direct itself, careened into the wall just in front of our apartment as his head then slammed into the base of the wall, near our door jam, the pall of death glazing over his face as his eyes communicated complete consternation.  His writhing and semi-inert body blocked my return to our apartment. Kristi, hearing the commotion in the hall and my exclamation, wisely locked the door, not having seen what I had seen and not knowing what was going on outside.  Terrified, she locked the door, sat near it to welcome me in, and prayed.  I turned on my belly and crawled in the other direction where I found another young man who had been behind me, this young man holding a pistol, scouring the streets below with his trained eye for would-be assailants.  Thankfully he did not mind me as I continued crawling, now knocking at the base of the door of Leisa, our neighbor, colleague and friend.  Uncertain herself what was going on and what to do, having heard everything and seeing the man in the hall with the gun, thankfully she quickly opened her door after I calmly explained my situation.  We found sanctuary in her back bedroom where we phoned Kristi, our colleagues and friends upstairs, and the apartment manager.  We prayed, waited, and kept calm as our bodies and spirits trembled in fear and uncertainty.

Our hallway, the second door on left is ours; I crawled the hall
on all fours when I saw the man turn the corner and then come and fall in front of our door

Later we would learn that the tall, slight young man with the white shirt died from his gunshot wound shortly after I saw him.  What happened?  Who shot him?  Him being curious like many of us, he had been down at the window in the first floor hallway where he was struck by a stray bullet which came whistling up from the police station below.  We learned that the young man is a relative of the family who temporarily lives in the large apartment at the end of our hall; the young man patrolling our hall with the pistol is a bodyguard to a high-ranking military official who is currently renting that apartment.  That afternoon two other bullets struck our building, one in the ground floor showroom and the other on the fourth floor, the police shooting bullets in the air in seeming indiscriminate fashion.  The whole affair began when a man came to the police station with multiple grenades, ready to use them due to a domestic dispute involving his wife and possibly someone from the station.  He was shot by the police but not killed.   

The police station across the street from the first floor of our building;
three bullets hit our building from across the street

As for Kristi and I and our three colleagues/friends who live together in the same building, we are still in shock and we are still recovering.  Weekly, we hear stories of gun violence, robberies in the neighborhoods at the edge of the city, and killings across the city and country.  Within the last few months, Susan, a dear woman who cleans our building, lost her sixteen year old son, senselessly shot and killed while attending a neighbor’s birthday party.  A week ago Wednesday the home of Terenzo Lako, the new guard of our building, was attacked by robbers in the night.  Stories we have heard from friends and daily news reports have now became a close-up, lived and witnessed reality for us.  

Saturday morning Kristi and I went down to the quiet serenity of the Nile River to find a healing calm.  We read from Psalm 91, words which now possess new and special meaning at a moment when it felt like one of us could have suffered the same fate as our young South Sudanese neighbor.  We appreciate your prayers as we heal and recover from the trauma, as we seek to not live in fear, and as we seek wisdom for such situations and how we can best be equipped to serve in this needy land.  We invite you to pray with us for the family of the young man who died a rather senseless death.  Pray for wisdom in how we can show our neighbors love and solidarity.  Lord, in Your Mercy.