Learning We Were the Students

Day Two (Friday)
One of the frustrations about a trip like this is that it can never be fully communicated to those back home. I can upload photos to Facebook, post quick statuses to update people on what's going on, and blog to give the details about our mission trip. But the very air of Rwanda...the genocide history combined with the joy combined with the hope combined with the tragic loss combined with the children combined with the breathtaking beauty...words and pictures alone will not do it justice. But I'll do my best to write about it, because what we are already learning on this trip is a story that needs to be told. (It's a little hard to understand the rest of our trip's story, though, if you don't know the history of the Rwandan genocide. Please read the first few entries on this blog that detail the genocide history.)

We headed out this morning to see Pastor Deo Gashagaza, a man whom I greatly admire. He founded a ministry that reaches out to prisoners in Rwanda, mainly those who murdered and raped others during the genocide. Although his family was from Rwanda, he had not grown up here, and he had been separated from his sister his entire life. He had always wished to see her, so after the genocide he moved back to Rwanda to try to find her. He described coming back and seeing Rwanda 1 year after the genocide like this (I typed it as he was saying it).
"I couldn't believe my eyes. Everywhere, there were bones. Dogs and animals were running around with bones, and they were bones of people. And I couldn't help but think...my sister is one of these dead. I wanted to leave Rwanda. I couldn't stay here any longer. I couldn't understand WHY... Why would God let this happen? Why 1 million people? So I was going to leave. But my mom, she told me to pray. Now, I had always grown up Roman Catholic, and my priests and bishops always talked about hearing the Voice of God telling them to do this and do that. And I thought, I've never heard the Voice of God, never in my whole life. But I want to. I want to know why 1 million people. So, I fasted and prayed for 3 days, asking God the question WHY."
 Pastor Deo went on to say that God didn't answer his question. The first two days he heard nothing. But then, on the third day, he said he clearly heard the Voice of God, "burning like a fire in my heart." God told Deo to go into the prisons and tell the prisoners in there that they deserved forgiveness, and to show them how to get forgiveness. Deo didn't want to, but the Voice of God was too strong. He went and asked for permission to go into the prison, but even the guards said they didn't enter into the prison cells because of the danger. They finally said to him, "Fine, go, but you go if you want to die in there." He went. When the prisoners saw them, they were angered that he (obviously a Tutsi because of his tall stature) had survived the genocide, and planned to kill him immediately. However, as they discussed in a group how to kill him, one of them suggested they let him preach first, then kill him after. He said that was the most nervous he had ever been in preaching a sermon! But at the end, they were weeping. They asked him to come back the next week. And from there, the prison ministry began to grow. He was able to convince them that they deserved forgiveness, and he began to guide them in how to seek forgiveness from God and from others.

Deo looked at those of us sitting around the table, and he began to openly cry. He said,"Thank you for coming. Anyone can send money or gifts. But you came to hear, to listen, to encourage me. This shows love. God told me one day I would have a big family. You, those who make this long journey to get here and just come. You are my family." This is the second time in 24 hours we heard this sentiment expressed. When Manu, the Land of a Thousand Hills Director of Community of Trade in Rwanda picked us up from the airport yesterday, he said the same kind of thing. Manu said that it shows so much love to them that we took such a long journey just to come see them, and he thanked us repeatedly for giving them this gift of a visit. How sweet of God to affirm this trip for us!

 One of Pastor Deo's projects is a concept called Reconciliation Village. He found that it was actually much harder to convince the genocide attackers that they could receive forgiveness than it usually was to get the victims to forgive. As people were released from prison, it was difficult for them to assimilate back into a community they had helped to ravage. There were also many victims who had lost their entire family and/or houses. The idea for Reconciliation Village was that the perpetrators and victims would work hand-in-hand to make the bricks, clear the land, and build the houses together for them to live in. An entire community made up of those that Deo had helped to reconcile was born. Hearing second-hand that this idea works is one thing, and to be honest, the cynical side of me found it very hard to believe before going there last year that these people had honestly forgiven and reconciled something so horrific as the crimes that had happened. But at RV, they met with us in the center of their 58-house village. The murderers spoke of what they had done, and these men then took their seat on the skinny wooden bench right next to survivors that lost entire families at the hand of these actual murderers. We were given the chance to dialogue with them, and two conversations in particular struck me.  One was when Chrissie asked about how it is possible to truly reconcile. One of the men responded by saying, "You have to reconcile yourself with the Lord first. Otherwise it is all impossible. After that, you must reconcile with yourself. Then you are free to go to the other person and ask for forgiveness or offer forgiveness." That confirms it - true forgiveness like this is only possible through a relationship with Jesus. The other conversation that moved me was when a woman spoke to us about surviving the genocide. She hid in the fields for over 3 months, and now lives in a house next to a man who killed over 40 men in the area. She said that the man who killed all 7 members of her family came to her for forgiveness, telling her in detail how he had killed all of them. She said she could not offer forgiveness at first. That for a long time she experienced much trauma, she couldn't eat or sleep. She asked him to show her where the bodies were, and she took the bones and had them buried at the mass grave at Nyamata church. At the memorial at Nyamata, she cried out to God to help her heart to forgive. She said she prayed about it for several days, and at the end of her time of prayer she knew God had helped her to forgive. She called the man and met with him face-to-face and told him she forgave him for killing her whole family. She said then she could eat, then she could sleep, then she could laugh. It freed her. The  man began calling her to help her with things that she needed, and now they live nearby each other in Reconciliation Village, helping each other.

I think about the number of times I've savored bitterness in my heart towards someone, and the many instances of holding a grudge over things far less important than the torture and murder of those I love. I can't think of the last time I've spent days...DAYS...in prayer, begging God to help me reconcile with a fellow man. And these people not only forgave, they RECONCILED. They now live together in community...one of them said to us, "We don't need the police, we take care of each other. We help each other. Our kids all go to school together. We eat together, pray together, build together, share everything. The women started a basket-weaving co-op and the men own a farming co-op." 

Chad asked them how they felt about the fact that so many other countries are coming to hear their stories, and they smiled. They said "We are so pleased to receive you...we think of us as teachers, and you as primary students...A lesson to learn is that if you are every day called a killer, that's who you are and that is your life. But if you are forgiven, that's who you become, and that is your life."

I remember that last year when we went, we listened to a murderer, an old man, talk about all his killings, and then sit down next to the woman that lost all her family at the hands of that man. The woman held her new baby in her lap, and when the murderer sat down next to her, the baby reached for him. The old man grinned and reached for the baby, and the woman smiled and let the baby climb into the man's lap. As someone else spoke next, I was transfixed on this trio...the woman whose entire family was murdered was sitting next to the murderer, and her baby was playing with the man's face and hair while she gently smiled. They lived next to each other, and he helped her with things she needed help with. That was a true picture of reconciliation, one that will always stay with me.
 
We left Reconciliation Village shaken and ready, I think, to do a lot of soul-searching. From there we went to the Nyamata Genocide Memorial. Nyamata Church had been a Roman Catholic Church in the Nyamata area. Whenever tensions had arisen in the past, Tutsis had always been able to claim sanctuary inside the church walls. They might be murdered outside, but inside the walls the killers would not dare attack since the church was so sacred. So when the genocide began on April 6, 1994, many Tutsis in the area fled to the church to seek sanctuary. Over 2,000 of them, mostly women, children, and the elderly, packed in to the small brick church. They huddled inside and waited. Many brought blankets and some food, thinking they might have to wait out a few days of violence before returning home. However, the attackers, who were tipped off on the radio that thousands were hiding in the church, didn't care about church sanctity, and they saw the crowd of women and children as an easy target they could dispose of quickly. They attacked the tightly packed crowd with grenades and guns. Then they went in with machetes to torture and eventually kill those who had not yet died. Every single person in the church that day, over 2,000 of them, was killed. Those tasked with keeping the memory of the genocide alive set up the church as a memorial. The blankets and clothes of every victim were kept inside, piles and piles of them on the pews, altar, and stage of the church. Bullet holes still perforate the room, so much so that no other artificial light is needed as thousands of tiny sunlit pinholes stream in from above. Pictures are not allowed inside, and the air is so thick with the intensity of the tragedy that it's a moment that has to be experienced to be understood. I had read about it, seen journalists' photos of the site, and researched it extensively before seeing it. Nothing-NOTHING-could have prepared me for it. But suffice it to say that it is necessary to go through that experience before beginning to minister to the people of Rwanda. We have to understand, at least on some surface level, what it is that they are recovering from. We cannot learn from their reconciliation if we can't understand just how far they really had to travel to reach that state of forgiveness. Seeing little tiny sandals, an old man's pipe and hat, a woman's purse and blanket, and many more items the victims had with them that day all lined up on the altar in Nyamata church takes me one step closer to understanding a little of what they have been through. We almost all collapsed right then and there from the depression and the intensity of the horror that the memorial brings with it. But we had one more thing planned for today, and it was such a wonderful way to end the day. We were going to minister to Pastor Deo's Street Kids!

A short time after Deo started the Prison Fellowship, he was asked by some women who had been raped during the genocide (almost every Tutsi female survivor experienced sexual assault) why he was helping the genocide perpetrators and not helping the victims. As a result of that and God's leadership, he has one branch of his ministry that helps these HIV rape victims, and another branch that helps the street kids of Kigali. There are currently almost 100 children who are either completely homeless or live in a single-parent home where there is no one able to provide food or guidance. Deo feeds these kids 3 times a week and gives them Bible lessons, guidance, and hope. He seeks to help them grow into Christian adults through job placement and education. They absolutely adore him and his wife, and as we watched him with the kids, it is obvious they are his world. They had been practicing their singing for us, and as we came around the corner into the back courtyard where they were waiting for us, their sweet, beautiful voices rose to a deafening level, they were so eager to sing for us! It was a total worship experience. They worshiped God with their music, singing about God's goodness and faithfulness and love. The older teens (now mentors to the younger ones) talked to us about how they had been on the streets since the age of 4 or 5, been drug addicts, in and out of prison, and then they found Deo. He saved them, they each say. No, says Deo, shaking his head with a smile and pointing upwards. God saved you. God is good. The kids wait for their meal (one of only three that most will get all week) until they have all sung for us and talked to us and welcomed us. Then they walk quietly to the sidewalk where they will sit to be served. 100 children who are literally starving, and they worship God first with smiles on their faces, and then act with the best manners possible. Wow. We help serve them food, and then- best part- we get to play. Katie talks to the teenage girls about music and they do her hair. Jamie and Chrissie dance and play games with the younger ones. The older boys sing and rap and dance for us. We break out the bottles of bubbles and the kids go crazy. And then...the hugs begin. They stare into my eyes and hug and hug and hug me. And they say over and over "I love you! Thank you for coming!" I tell them they are beautiful, and their smiles light up their eyes. Ten of them hold my hands at once, and another ten try to crawl into my lap.

Now, I know that I can send Pastor Deo money to help feed these children. We probably will be setting up something to help his Street Kids ministry when we get back to the states. He desperately needs financial support to get these 3 meals per week for 100 kids. I know the money is important. But the love that happened between our team and those kids today CANNOT be bought. It can't be sent in a package. It can't be emailed or wired over. I held them. I touched their faces, I laughed with them, I danced with them. I watched Kris dance with them, which is a priceless memory right there. I was Jesus' hands and feet today as I touched their faces and danced with them. Praise God for sending me...for sending all of us...on this trip. And we haven't even gone to our villages yet!!! Can't wait to blog about tomorrow!!!

I ended the day with a freezing cold shower that abruptly cut off right as the shampoo got lathered up all nice and soapy in my hair. I had to use bottled water to get the rest of it rinsed out. The smell of OFF insect repellant saturates my bedroom, and the armed guard stands watch just outside my window. And I cannot explain how happy...how joyful...these entire circumstances make me right now. Why did God choose US to come here? I have no idea. I pray He makes it clear this week why He chose to bless us with this incredible experience. Thank you, thank all of you, for the prayers and support for this trip. So amazing. I know they still have much to teach me, and I can't wait to keep learning!