Sitting with Suffering

We Americans have many natural gifts and talents derived from the strengths of our culture.  We are good “fix it” people.  If there is a problem, we are right on it.  A natural disaster happens, a flood, a hurricane, and we have already mobilized first responders even before the catastrophe happens.  Months and even years later we give money and our time to help those in need.  We are creative problem solvers who cannot live with intolerable suffering in our midst.  On the other side of the pendulum, on the negative side, lies our propensity to shield ourselves from the pain of others, because often we cannot identify with their suffering.  When someone we know is in pain, we may try to placate the situation with statements such as – “Just give it time, things will get better soon enough.”

We, Americans, are good at "fixing things," but not always
good at sitting with suffering

Having lived in places like Rwanda, Congo, and now South Sudan, I have come to realize that our American propensity to fix things and to avoid pain with polite half-truisms will only take one so far.  What happens when the problem can’t be fixed, or be fixed expeditiously and efficiently?  What if time isn’t enough to heal generational wounds?  Here in Juba, South Sudan, it feels like every day we are bombarded from all sides with needs.  Every time we step out of our building we are accosted multiple times by men, women, and young children who have the look of hunger and hopelessness in their eyes.  They ask for a handout but obviously they need so much more.  How can one “fix” this problem?  What words will ever be enough?  Last week Susan, one of the cleaners of our building, came up to Kristi and grasped her hair, saying, “God must love you White People.  He gives you nice, soft hair and a good life.  God must love you more than the rest of us!”  Kristi, understandably, was at a loss for words.  How does one respond to such an honest lament?  How does one respond to the inherent injustices of our world, a warped world which favors some to the exclusion of others?

Two years ago I was asked to provide time for theological reflection for a divinity student named John who had come to Congo on a summer internship.*  Every few weeks John and I would sit down and reflect together on what he was seeing and learning.  In one particularly poignant session, we reflected on the nature of suffering.  John told me that the suffering he was confronted with in Congo made him want to turn and run.  The suffering John was witnessing was simply intolerable to his American, white, middle class sensibilities.  Yet, as we sat together with the Scriptures and in a posture of prayer, we came to see that Jesus was unique in that he was able and willing to sit with people in their suffering.  He did not turn and run from them.  This theological reflection became an object lesson for both John and I, that sitting with people in their suffering is a form of ministry, even when we are unable to fix their pain and don’t have the words to make things better.      

This lesson has become even more poignant to me on a deeply personal level over the last three months as I have been diagnosed with the Epstein-Barr Virus, an illness which has rendered me weak and tired, an illness which lingers and can last months and even longer.  It has been difficult for me and others to understand that this sickness has no medicine and no defined time frame for improvement.  It feels like there is no real "fix" to this ailment - just time and rest and a good diet.  I am thankful for many of you who have expressed both lament and support through this period.    

Beyond my own ailment, so often I feel rather helpless here in South Sudan.  I cannot fix the multitudinous problems and my words will never be enough.  What I can do, as I am learning even from my own situation of pain, is to simply sit with people in their suffering.  I can bless and serve them by looking them in the eyes and seeing them as human beings worthy of dignity and honor.  Of course I can also pray for healing and change and seek to find long term solutions, but perhaps what is most needful in the moment by moment realities of everyday life is to just accompany people, sitting with them in their pain, and being present to them with their questions.  Sitting with suffering, I believe, is what God is calling us to do, above and beyond what our cultural instincts might tell us.  Lord Jesus, may we heed this call. 

*John is a pseudonym for the divinity student mentioned.    

   

             

Life with the Epstein-Barr Virus

In the August 10^th entry of the popular devotional, Jesus Calling, Sarah Young writes “Energy and time are precious, limited entities.  Therefore, you need to use them wisely, focusing on what is truly important.”

Seven weeks ago I was diagnosed with the Epstein-Barr Virus (EBV).  Commonly associated with and commonly the cause of Mononucleosis (Mono), this virus is very common but only manifests itself in a small percentage of the population.  Essentially it renders one weak, tired and achy and it can take weeks and even months (and in some cases even longer) for the body to fully recover.  A former colleague from African Enterprise (AE) recently wrote, telling me of his experience with EBV.  He contracted the illness a week before his wedding and was essentially “man down” the first year of marriage.  It took him a full year to recover and five years before he could safely call EBV a memory.  In another case, a friend contracted EBV three years ago and is still dealing with the challenges of this virus which has morphed into Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

Does that sound encouraging?  No, it doesn’t, and it has not been an easy road for Kristi and I to walk these past three months.  Towards the end of June, our doctor in Nairobi gave us the go-ahead to return to Juba, but he cautioned me to take it easy and to “tithe it out.”  Since our return, we have been balancing my getting rest with learning a new language, building relationships in the community, and simply getting to know our environs.  I have begun a daily log whereby I record how well I sleep each night, how many naps I take each day and the length of each nap, each activity I do and how it affects me, and I rate my energy level each day on a scale of 1 – 10.  My energy level hasn’t been over 7.5 since I began recording eight weeks ago, and averages at about 6.5 per week.  I try to average 2 hours of rest each day, napping.  Our hope had been that I would be 90% strong before returning to Juba.  That didn’t happen…so here we are, having made the decision to return but still waiting for and seeking to promote healing, doing our best to navigate this place under less than ideal circumstances. 

So, how does one deal with a health challenge while adjusting to a new culture and language while also still grieving the loss of ministry and identity in another place?  Well, I am no expert and please do not look to me as a guide.  On many days I feel that God has dealt us an unfair hand.  It often feels like life has become unfair and the scales of the Universe have tipped against us.  “Why?” is a regular refrain on our lips.  We have prayed for healing as have countless others, but it feels like the heavens are silent. 

What I am learning, rather slowly and obstinately, is that the challenge and dark companion of an illness like EBV can actually become a teacher.  In the entry entitled “For a Friend on the Arrival of Illness,” the late John O’Donahue in his wonderful little book called To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings, writes most poignantly regarding illness, saying “You feel that against your will a stranger has married your heart.”  Those words have bounced off the echo chambers of my heart - so true!  While O’Donahue uses poetic turn of phrase to identify the pain and frustration of illness, he also encourages the friend to embrace the illness as a companion and teacher.  He encourages one to listen to the illness which can illuminate new qualities that will emerge within you.  He encourages the friend to ask why the illness came, what it wants you to know, what quality of space it wants to create in you, and to ask what do you need to learn to become more fully yourself so that your presence will shine in the world. 

Going back to the quote from Sarah Young’s devotional, I am learning how truly valuable and precious time and energy are.  I am learning that both are limited entities, having to choose only what is needful and necessary and not doing many of the things I would otherwise do and enjoy doing.  I cannot exercise as I normally would, and I am obliged to limit my outings from our apartment, only doing what feels most important.  Throughout the day I am constantly napping and needing to forgo the desire to be productive.  As an example of my limited energy, last Sunday we went to worship at a local church.   The entire outing was about four hours long and it took me two full days to recover. 

On a positive note, when I do go out, I tend to notice things and enjoy the experience more than I might otherwise.  Simple conversations and experiences are perhaps cherished more because they are in short supply.  I cannot say that I am good at embracing this new way of experiencing life.  There are many days when I feel somber and depressed at my current life state; I just want to curl up into a cocoon and bid the world “adieu.”  However, I am slowly learning to accept this illness as a companion and teacher that will indeed develop important qualities in me, qualities like patience, compassion and humility. 

If you are a person who prays, I welcome your prayer for me to learn all that God wants to teach me through this illness.  Of course, I also welcome prayers for healing and full recovery.  Whatever happens, my hope is that my life will be surrendered to God and bring Him all the glory.  Thank you for reading.                 

Walk slowly and carry a grateful heart

This morning we were sitting under a tarp sipping tea at a road-side stand in Juba. We watched people passing on the road, women frying bean-chapati wraps, and the three young women who were busy washing cups and serving tea in their makeshift stall. Business slowed, and they circled their chairs around a bowl of beans. One of them beckoned us over. “Come, eat,” she said invitingly, first in Arabic and then in English. They added chairs in their circle, and we joined them, dipping pieces of bread in the common bowl of beans. We only know a few words in Arabic, but we were able to introduce ourselves and ask their names, and it felt like a meaningful connection. “We’re eating local food.” Bob whispered between mouthfuls, “This is what we’ve been praying for!” Truly – just because of the way things worked out, we had no yet eaten truly ‘local’ food with South Sudanese people…until today.

We returned to Juba from Nairobi on Monday. Bob is still recovering from the Epstein-Barr virus, but we are slowly re-engaging with life here in Juba as his energy allows. Before going to Nairobi, we had been in Juba for two weeks, and had just begun to find our way around the city and get settled in our apartment. But those two weeks were enough to make it feel like we were coming ‘home’ this week, even though we had been gone in Nairobi for five weeks. We were so grateful to finally unpack our suitcases after our long absence and reconnect with new friends and colleagues.

On Tuesday, as we were eating dinner and reflecting on our first day back in Juba, Bob said, “Even though I don’t feel 100% physically, I feel much more ready now emotionally and mentally to engage in life here.” And it does feel like even with our current limited activity, we’ve explored new places in the neighborhood, practiced new phrased in Arabic, taken the bus to the end of the line near us, gone to the immigration office and gotten three-month visas, and as of today had tea at a road-side stall and shared a meal. So many little steps that go towards making us feel much more ‘at home’ here than before.

When we were preparing to return to Juba, my Dad suggested the phrase “Walk slowly, and carry a grateful heart” to use as a repetitive prayer, or ‘breath prayer’. As Bob is stil recovering, we need to remember not to push too hard or too fast. And we have much to be grateful for, and being concsious of those things helps us to have the right attitude that can weather the challenges. Yesterday when the sun finally cooled down around 6pm, we were strolling down a dirt road in our neighborhood, watching kids playing and men drinking tea. We recited to ourselves, “Walk slowly, and carry a grateful heart” and then we started naming some of the many things we were grateful for in that day. So many things! After our weeks in Nairobi dealing with sickness and being forced to take a slower pace, we are more aware of our own weakness, reminded of our dependence on our Good Shepherd, and grateful for the simple pleasures and victories of life.

Watching the sunset from our apartment – one of the many things we are grateful for!

Stirring the Waters

This last Sunday and the Sunday previous Kristi and I worshiped at Christ Church in Westlands, Nairobi, a wonderful community of faith which is walking distance from the guesthouse where we are staying.  The theme for this last month has been "Celebrating our Differences," a theme bent particularly on lifting up persons with physical and emotional challenges.  Two Sundays ago the church invited an African Albino man to preach.  Albino persons in Africa are often marginalized due to pigmentation of their skin.  This last Sunday a blind woman read the scripture passage using Braille.  It took a long time to get through the passage, but she persevered and the congregation was patient.  Also on this last Sunday the guest preacher was wheelchair bound doe to a work related accident sustained twenty years ago.  Before his preaching, a member of the congregation gave testimony concerning the challenges she faces raising her son who is afflicted with both Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and Dyslexia.

In all of these cases I am impressed by the Christ Church's willingness to highlight those we too often push to the margins.  The "differences" expressed by these children of God remind us all of our need to find meaning and help beyond ourselves.  The wheelchair bound preacher from last Sunday cited Paul's testimony regarding the thorn in his flesh.  Three times Paul petitions to Lord to remove the thorn, yet the Lord's gentle response to Paul is, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12: 9a).  The preacher gave testimony that had he not had the accident he probably would be arrogant.  He shared how God often likes to "stir the waters of our lives," shaking things up so that we recognize our dependence on Him.  The preacher also described how meat is only flavorful and juicy when it is cooked.  The fire or flame of the stove brings forth these juices.  The unspoken implication is that the fires of sorrow and suffering in our lives add new dimensions of growth and provide space for God's creative work to happen.

Two nights ago Kristi and I watched the movie "Joni" which chronicles the true life story of Joni Eareckson Tada who was paralyzed at the age of seventeen from a diving accident.  The film masterfully shows the horrific struggles she faced during the early years after the accident, but how faith in Jesus Christ took hold of her and she then blossomed in ways unimaginable.  In one poignant scene, she shares with a disabled Vietnam veteran how she would rather be in a wheelchair with Jesus in her life than be able bodied without Him.  I was moved by her words which affirm how our weaknesses and suffering humble us and force us to recognize our need for love and help outside of ourselves.  Our setbacks, our sorrows and our sufferings drive us to the One who can heal all of our inner wounds and pain and give our lives true meaning and purpose.

Joni Eareckson Tada has lived a life of faithfulness!
(Image borrowed from this website)

These last five weeks have been weeks of struggle for Kristi and I as I was diagnosed with the Epstein-Barr Virus.  It feels like God is stirring the waters in our lives.  The Lord has permitted me to fall victim to this Virus which has greatly weakened my body and caused severe achiness.  Kristi and I have been forced to radically adjust and change our plans.  The Lord has given us a forced season of rest.  We have been obliged to stop and take a good look at our lives and to surrender all to the Lord - our health, our hopes and desires, our plans, our sense of call, our reputation and even our mortal lives.  Our Heavenly Father, in His infinite wisdom and mercy, has upset our well contrived and manufactured plans.  The Lord Jesus has reminded us of our need, our utter dependency upon Him alone.  We can do nothing without the leadership and enabling of God's Presence and Spirit.

And so I pray,

Father, thank you for stirring the waters in our lives.  It has not been fun and it certainly was not expected, but I have now come to recognize this season of being set aside as necessary for the larger and greater work you seek to do in both Kristi and I, and for that I am profoundly grateful.  I bless your Holy Name.  Thank you for sending me this unexpected visitor called Epstein-Barr.  I love you Lord - keep me humble and needy!  Hidden in You, Bobby.  

I am grateful that my body now seems to be on the upswing.  With my doctor's blessing, we plan to return to Juba, South Sudan, on Monday.  For that we are profoundly thankful.  Yet, we are also grateful for being set aside and more fully prepared for all that lies ahead in our new call.  May God be glorified in our lives - particularly in those places of challenge and pain.

** This blog post is an amended entry from Bob's personal journal which he has been writing in quite frequently lately!  :)    

         

Detour

We felt like we were starting to know our way around Juba --finding things in the market, taking rickshaws, and practicing new phrases in Juba Arabic. We were reviewing our language learning books and preparing to start lessons this week with a tutor. And then a few physical/medical issues stopped us in our tracks and forced us to change our plans.

On our last evening in Congo three weeks ago, we celebrated with a nice dinner of fish. Bob ate his with bidia, which camoflauged a fish bone in his mouth until he felt it poking his throat on the way down. We hoped that the bone had not gotten stuck in his throat, but when he still felt like something was caught there two days later, it was hard to be sure. We saw a doctor as we passed through Ethiopia en-route to Juba, who said that there was no bone in Bob’s throat, but that there was some inflammation where perhaps the bone had poked him. He gave Bob some antibiotics and sent us on our way. Good news! Except that, two weeks later, Bob’s throat still periodically felt sore or clogged, and it was disconerting that it did not seem to be healing.

Just as we were wrestling with these thoughts of Bob’s throat, he started feeling very weak, achy, and tired. We went to the doctor in Juba, thinking perhaps he had malaria. The malaria test was negative, but the doctor prescribed the treatment for malaria anyway, given that it could be in the early stages.   He also examined Bob’s throat with a flashlight, but did not have any equipment beyond that to asses what was irritating his throat. After a couple more days of resting, praying for healing, and seeking guidance but not feeling any better, we decided to come to Nairobi to see a doctor and get more tests.
We arrived in Nairobi on Monday of this week, and saw a doctor and had a battery of tests on Tuesday. We are very grateful for the encouragement to come and get treated, for the reassurance of ruling things out or knowing what is going on physically, and also for the time and space to rest and recover. It is humbling to be forced to change plans and accept physical limitations. We had only been in Juba two weeks before suddenly leaving again for Nairobi. But sometimes being humbled and forced to change our timetable is exactly what we need to ensure that we depend on God and the people around us rather than just on ourselves. So we are waiting and trusting God to restore health and energy so that we return to Juba and to language learning. And in the mean-time we enjoy some ice cream, cool weather, and bird watching while we pass the time in the big city of Nairobi.

Relaxing in the shade at the guest house in Nairobi

We appreciate the lush trees and flowers at the Amani Gardens Guest House