Trip to Kodok

Due to security concerns related to the civil war still raging when we arrived in South Sudan in 2017, and since my role at Nile Theological College does not require travel, I had not left the city of Juba these last five years except for several trips to a Catholic retreat center seven miles outside the city. My understanding of the geography and geo-political realities of the country have come through conversations with my students and fellow faculty members, through studying maps, through reading, and through teaching which requires more reading and ongoing learning.

Map of South Sudan - Kodok is in the
northeastern corner of the country

However, within the last three months God has opened the door for me to make two important trips, including a recent trip to Kodok in Upper Nile State. Kodok is the historic capital of Fashoda County, a region of Upper Nile State which belongs to the Chollo (Shilluk) Kingdom and is the home of the Reth, their king. My colleague John and I traveled to Kodok primarily for doctoral research purposes regarding contextual theology, exploring the intersection of the Gospel and local culture along with the social/political realities and milieu of a people in their context and lifeworld.

We were given a "lift" to Kodok from Malakal by
a humanitarian organization; we ran out of gas 
enroute due to the weight of supplies and people

  

I have selected as one of my case studies the life and ministry of Rev. Johnson Amum. Johnson is the son of Ayik who served as the singer/poet for six Chollo Reths (kings). Ayik groomed his son Amum to take his place as singer/poet for the king, but sickness took sixteen-year-old Amum to the town of Malakal where his life would be forever changed through his encounter with the church and the person of Jesus Christ. While Amum inherited the natural gift of song composition and song presentation from his father, he was encouraged by his pastor from those early years as a young Christian to use this natural gift and translate it into use for the church, to bring praise, honor, and glory not to the Chollo king but to the Lord Jesus Christ, the King of kings. In Kodok, we spent time with local church leaders, church members, and respected community members who shared about the life and ministry of Rev. Johnson Amum. It was a significant journey.

Standing with Rev. Johnson Amum (to my left in the photo) and 
local church leaders  

What came as a surprise during this trip was how my eyes were opened. After five years of being sequestered in Juba and only hearing stories about displacement and suffering caused by war, I now stood in locations previously described to me by students who fled the fighting in 2014. Rev. Johnson described the ongoing trauma experienced by his daughter due to the crisis and war. When I asked him if he also was traumatized, he affirmed what we have commonly heard, “Yes, all of us in South Sudan are traumatized.” As I think about contextual theology, one cannot avoid the context of South Sudan, a land broken and devastated time and again by war.

In Kodok many such mounds of sand can be found, evidence 
of locations where homes have been destroyed 

On our way back to Juba, we stayed in the major port city of Malakal at the “Hub,” a maze of offices and an alphabet soup of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) working in the region, serving the humanitarian interests of the people. At the Hub, it felt like everyone was walking a bit faster; an air of importance and urgency permeated the place. Replete throughout was a sense of timeliness, order, speed, technological sophistication, accountability, and other highly prized values of western donors and aid agencies. In contrast to the Hub and its calculated efficiency was the large population inside the massive United Nations “protection of civilians” site (POC). Inside, protected by barriers and armed UN personnel carriers, the POC felt like a very large African village/town, suffused with life in all its strengths, weaknesses, and inherent glory. Children were playing everywhere, shopkeepers were relaxing after a long day, women were cooking local dishes in small restaurants, and almost everyone gawked at the strange “kawaja” (white westerner) walking with his South Sudanese friend to buy dried fish at the market within the POC. 

Displaced youth in Upper Nile (Wau Shilluk, Fashoda County)

Protection of Civilians (POC) site, Malakal

Leaving Kodok, navigating narrow channel out to 
the river (the Nile) 

John and I, returning from Kodok to Malakal

Being in the POC in Malakal reminded me that no matter how squeezed and pushed down a people are by deplorable circumstances related to the devastation of war and displacement, the reality of life and the hope of life will inevitably reveal itself. Lord of life, may the hope of life, the hope for a better life, and the hope for eternal life be the song which keeps our hearts light and our feet moving, one step at a time. In your mercy, hear the cries of your children.

Pilgrimage to Iona

 In June we took a long-anticipated journey to Scotland. Our primary goal was to have some time on the island of Iona, but we also enjoyed a couple weeks of vacation exploring the dramatic landscape and history of Scotland. Given the current challenges of Covid that make travel unpredictable and risky, we almost did not make it to Iona. But by God's grace we were able to be there for a few days, although shorter than planned. We wanted to share a few pictures and highlights from our time on this special island.

One of the ancient crosses near the abbey

For 1400 years, pilgrims have been traveling to the island of Iona, one of the islands of the Inner Hebrides of Western Scotland. Iona was founded as a monastic community in 563 CE by an Irish monk, Saint Columba. It has been described as a “thin place,” a place where heaven meets earth.

On the north coast of Iona

We were greeted by ancient rock formations reportedly formed by volcanic forces more than 1 billion years old. The island feels extra-terrestrial, otherworldly. There are no trees, or only very few. It is like standing on an ancient rock surrounded by icy cold waters, small, yet full of force and vibrancy. It is green, there is lots of mist and rain, and almost everywhere you go you will hear sheep baaing. Crossing the short distance from the island of Mull, one is captivated by the Abbey rebuilt in the 13th century in the very location of the original Abbey of Saint Columba from the 6th century, rebuilt again in the 20th century. 

The Iona Abbey, rebuilt on the same place as Columba's abbey in 600 AD.

They hold daily services in the Abbey

Bob enjoyed some time alone of prayer and reflection

in a quiet corner of the sanctuary

Our experience was filled with holy moments, divine encounters, kindred spirits and new friends along life’s journey, a spirit of worship and hospitality, and hearing the calls and seeing rare and interesting birds, most notably the Corncrake and the Puffin. One highlight was hiking to the very spot where Saint Columba and his companions landed from Ireland in 563 CE, the place from which Columba could no longer see Ireland, thus, the place to start a new community of faith which would spread upwards and outwards. 

Bob talking to a fellow hiker as we approach Columba's Bay

Along the hike, with Columba's Bay in the background

Tiny clusters of orchids along the hike

We passed many sheep as we hiked, in beautiful fields
brightened by tiny daisies and buttercups

We read a biography of Columba (which was written in the seventh century!) during out travels, and were inspired by the powerful ways that God worked through Columba to reveal God's truth, love, and power to people throughout Ireland, Scotland, and Britian. We are so grateful for the introduction that we got to this special part of the world with such rich spiritual history. Truly, God's creation, God's people, and God's Spirit were a source of refreshement that made it feel like we had been on the island for a week rather than just 3 short days.

"...In repentence and rest is your salvation,

in quietness and trust is your strength,

but you would have none of it."

Isaiah 30:15

An African Lament

Recently I taught an intensive course on Spiritual Formation at the Tyrannus School of Ministry in Juba, South Sudan. I spent a week with twenty-eight wonderful young men from different parts of Sudan and South Sudan. It was an incredible time together. In this course, I highlight and teach on the spiritual practice of lament. Lament is a practice found in many of the psalms and even whole books of the Bible, such as the book of Lamentations.

Tyrannus School of Ministry, class of 2022
led by our friend Hany from Egypt

Praying with and being prayed for by students

Theologian Emmanuel Katongole suggests that hope lies within this practice, the practice of lament, a practice whereby individuals and communities argue and wrestle with God. Lament grounds a person and his/her community in hope despite multitudinous dislocations and challenges. Lament is a means of mourning and protest; it is a way to engage God. “Lament,” writes Katongole, is “a way of acting in the midst of ruins.” Lament sustains and promotes Christian agency and grounds the Christian life in hope (Katongole 2011; Katongole 2017).

On that note, I gave my students the opportunity to write a lament, coming out of the depths of their souls, representing the heart cries of their peoples. Several students shared their lament with the class. It was a powerful and poignant time, hearing the heartaches and hopes of God’s children. Below is one of the laments from a student whose initials are YSA. He gave permission for me to share his lament with a wider audience.

From student YSA of South Sudan -

God, you are so powerful. There is no one like you. You have created us in your likeness oh God. Lord, we have seen and acknowledge your goodness in the land of Africa, your greatness, your majesty, and beauty are seen in the land of Africa – green land, full of resources, gold, silver, mountains, rivers, animals and with all kinds of trees. By your goodness you make the land of Africa green and different than any other land worldwide. And by your grace you create us in it. Thank you, God.

But, my God, let me ask some questions. All other people compare Africa with none other than paradise. But we Africans, we do not see the benefit of this land and the benefit of the resources in it. Why, why God? We plant and we plant, but we reap no thing in our land. Your people are dying because of hunger and from thirst. Where is the benefit of this land for us God? Africans lose hope from their lands; they are hoping outside their land. Believers draw back and worship other gods like you are not here. We service idols and are reigning under evil spirits which cause hatred, jealousy, and war among our nations within Africa. People become like cannibals. We are hunting ourselves like nothing.

We Africans totally lose any confidence in this land. We are secreted all over the world. We are secreted like simsim* mixed with soil. Who can separate simsim from soil? Only you God can do that. Not only people are secreted, even the animals and the birds of our land are fleeing away to places where we do not even know. We who remain in Africa, we are struggling with a bad situation and there is no change.

We really, really lose hope oh God. I think if we get wings today no one will remain in this land, oh God.

Why are we suffering like this God, especially in Sudan and South Sudan. Those who are living in the desert are better off than us who are living in green land of Africa.

God, why are we suffering like this, oh God?

In night our dreams come to pass but when we wake up in the morning, we feel bitter and more bitter. Why do we rejoice and enjoy beauty at night and mourn in the morning? We lose tears from our eyes. Why? Why…oh God? We do we see the sun rising with a new condition every day, and at midday we hear sounds of many people crying everywhere.

The number of dead people increases every day. People are dying everywhere. I think the blood of African people is raining like water in the river under the ground of land. I think their souls are crying before you. When will their voice and the voice of their children be heard, oh God? When will you respond?

African orphans hope that things will change, but today things become worse and worse than yesterday. Every year becomes more bitter than last year. The hours of yesterday are better than the hours of today. Africa is like a fatherless child who sees his friend walking with their father, feeling happy and enjoying life. White people help us every year from generation to generation. God when will you help us so that we can reward our brethren white people?

God, hear my prayer. Forgive my people and heal our land. Forgive all Africans their sins.

God, one day one time you gather us like a hen gathers her brood in her wings. Your name is most higher. God thank you for hearing this prayer of mine. I believe my dream will pass. In Jesus’ name I pray.

*simsim is a colloquial term or translation in South Sudan for sesame seeds

Facing the past to find healing

 In a workshop we conducted in Kajo Keji in May, Tracey, who is British, volunteered to be the first one to confess the wrongs done by her people to South Sudanese during our Standing in the Gap session. Kneeling on the ground in front of the participants, she acknowledged that the actions done by her ancestors during the ‘scramble for Africa’, the slave trade, and colonization were harmful and selfish. She said “I know that colonizing Sudan and South Sudan was terribly wrong, and that our attitude of superiority disrespected and hurt the South Sudanese people. We imposed our government and demands on you, and people are still suffering today as a result of the wrongs during colonization. I am so sorry that this happened and for the ways that you were hurt. Will you forgive us?”

Confessing wrongs done by Europeans in Kajo Keji

As she spoke, I watched heads nodding and faces fight back tears as they heard this truth spoken. When she finished, the local pastor came up to Tracey. “What you said is right,” he said, “And there is more. The British handed us over to the Arab government at independence, who oppressed us and deprived us of justice. And it was the British who introduced guns to our people, which are now killing so many people in our communities. Before the British came, we were just using bows and arrows, which did not kill so many people. But we forgive you. We forgive you.” Pastor Edward then embraced Tracey and thanked her for her confession. I could tell by his response that this confession was meaningful and needed, because of the hidden wounds that many people had and resentment towards Europeans for colonization and exploitation.

Pastor Edward’s additions struck me—they are things I would not have thought of. I have heard more than once someone in South Sudan lament the invention of guns or the fact that guns were brought to their country. South Sudan is a country where attacks and killing happen regularly, carried out by civilians who have guns. There are many factors, of course, that precipitate these killings, but it is notable that one thing people lament and blame is the import of guns. 

After Tracey’s confession, several others followed. One of our facilitators who comes from the Dinka tribe acknowledged that there had been many people killed or attacked by Dinka people in this region of Kajo Keji. The participants were really moved by his confession, and one woman said later that she never thought she could see a Dinka person confessing to these wrongs. Other participants acknowledged the wrongs done by youth in their community, or by one community to another.

When Jesus died on the cross, he took on himself the weight of our sins and our pain…but sometimes it is so hard to forgive ourselves and each other. Being vulnerable and honest – that opens the door for God to bring forgiveness and healing. Not automatically, not always. But it helps all of us to recognize our interconnectedness and lean into God for healing. Bryan Stevenson, the author of Just Mercy, emphasizes that facing the past is a key to healing in the present. “We cannot heal the deep wounds inflicted during the era of racial terrorism until we tell the truth about it,” he says. 

Taking our pain to the cross in Kajo Keji

Bryan Stevenson quote from: https://www.facinghistory.org/holocaust-and-human-behavior/chapter-12/acknowledging-past-shape-present

Training new facilitators

I am a little behind in sharing one of our great joys from this year so far. In March, we had a training for new facilitators of the healing and reconciliation workshop, organized in cooperation by SSPEC, the Episcopal Church, and Mission Aviation Fellowship . The training happened over 2 weeks, with 4 different stages (initial workshop, training of trainers, training of facilitators, and practicum workshops), with parts held in 5 different locations around Juba. You can imagine how overwhelming it felt to organize that. I was also coordinating travel for our 6 participants coming from remote locations in South Sudan, and travel in South Sudan is rather unpredictable and challenging. A few times I was really struck with amazement that all the participants made it and that the training actually happened. Truly, God worked and answered prayers to overcome many obstacles.
 

A drama about exchanging our pain for healing through the cross

Participants during the training of facilitators

At the end of the training, the new facilitators were put into teams that conducted workshops in three locations in Juba. It was amazing to see how God worked in the hearts of participants and facilitators alike through these workshops. One man shared that normally when he sleeps he experiences sharp pain in his heart, and in the morning he drinks cold water to cool his pain. But after the session about experiencing God as a Loving Father, he was able to sleep peacefully without pain. One woman was grieving her daughter who had committed suicide by burning herself exactly one year earlier. She went to church, but she said every time she tried to read the Bible she experienced such anger at God that she could not read it. During the session of bringing our pain to the cross, she was able to give God that pain and experienced healing. She expressed so much joy at experiencing God’s love in the midst of her grief.

Giving pain to God during one of the workshops

A drama about forgiveness in one of the practicum workshops

We are grateful for some opportunities to do a few workshops in the last month, so several of these new faciliators have already had opportunity to practice teaching in the workshop. Several of them are pastors, so they are experienced preachers and teachers - but making a teaching interactive for a workshop and incorporating dramas and practical exercises is something new that takes time and practice. Please continue to pray for these new facilitators, that God will continue to use them and mold them for the important work of helping people experience God's love, forgiveness, and healing. We are excited that our team of facilitators is growing, which makes it easier to meet the demand for workshops. We are praying that God opens doors and provides the resources to go to some of the remote parts of South Sudan where a few of the new facilitators are based.

New facilitators and the training team

All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; thiat is, in Christ God was reconciliing the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. 2 Corinthians 5:18-21