These Trees

IMG_8931

I wonder how old they were then. When Africans were hustled to the sea for transport. Some of their roots are above ground. These ancient roots are tangled perhaps from trying to see, then hiding from the atrocities that took place. They saw Africans, those who lived on the land; those who had families, tribes and villages. Africans who grew food and hunted among these trees were driven to the shore in chains and herded into ships hewn from the wood of trees. They were packed like sardines on wooden planks made from the relatives of these very trees, to be shipped to the new world.

Could these trees like the Baobab all over West Africa have provided shelter for those who were running, trying to find a place of protection? Probably not, some of them have branches with leaves that are too far off the ground to provide protection,. Though some of their cousins that stood nearby tried to provide a hiding place. Every now and then because of trees, perhaps the thick trunks, or the ability to climb, one African, man or woman or child escaped capture to run back to the village to tell. They were able to call the names of those who were now gone, to remember those who were carried out on the water that did not end.

The stories that these trees could tell: of hurt and pain and capture, of love and family, of fun, of how it used to be before those with pale skin came and how it was after. These stories were whispered as I sat in a lounge chair, enjoying the African sun so close to the Atlantic Ocean. I sat a descendant of those taken and those who took. I sat with many who may be ancestors of the captors. These oblivious visitors who now sit listening to the sounds of the ocean that once carried Africans as profit for their lives. Now they come to sip fresh juice and rum. Now they come to dip in the cool water and listen to the waves.

The days of capture are over, yet the Africans still feel the affects of those days. The affects of colonization are still so apparent. Poverty is rampant in this country outside the walls of this oasis of luxury. In this place the Africans serve and wait on those who once stole their relatives. The Africans laugh and entertain to make a living in this place of vacation leisure. And the trees are still witnesses.

Doing What I Love!

IMG_6133My heart was broken open by pastors of the Lutheran Church in Rwanda. This happened as they responded to the brief three hour teaching that I did with them on Lutheran Theology and Preaching Law and Gospel. Rev. Kate Warn, YAGM Coordinator in Rwanda, and I traveled to Rukira, up a steep unpaved mountain road to be with this group. It was a request from Bishop Mugabo of LCR thIMG_6157at brought us there.

The teaching began as I answered the question that Bp. Mugabo had posed to me “Why Lutheran?” He wanted me to discuss with his pastors what difference it made to be Lutheran. I started my teaching that needed to be translated from English to Kinyarwanda. Right in the middle of my presentation the heavens opened up and there was a down pour. So, I stopped talking and the pastors began to sing. Not only did this mostly male group sing, they also danced. They stretched out their arms like cow horns and seemingly began to glide graceful around the room. It was amazing hearing songs of praise to God and seeing dance to accompany it. As the rain poured so did my eyes.

When the rain cleared the teaching continued. It was obvious that they were eager to learn; they were attentive and asked excellent questions. One of those questions was from one of the women in the room. She asked, “if God’s grace is free and there is nothing that we can do to earn it, why bother going to church?” All my seventeen years as a pastor, I had never been asked this question. This young Rwandan woman who was on the path to ordination astonished me. Fortunately, there is an answer and it was right on the tip of my tongue. I turned to my colleague Rev. Kate Warn and I said “the means of grace; right?”

I then began to explain that we go to church to be strengthened by the hearing of the word, to receive Christ himself through bread and wine, body and blood and to be held up by the mutual consolation of the faithful.  I am grateful that this seemed to be a satisfactory answer for this wonderfully inquisitive soon to be pastor. I am also grateful that the answer was in my heart and on my lips.

The day continued with sharing, conversation and listening to the teaching of Rev. Prince, general secretary of the church, and others. Liturgy and the Augsburg Confession were also being taught. For some, this was the first time they had heard about these major tenets of the Lutheran faith.

The next day they thanked Pr. Kate and I for making the trip up the mountain to be with them. They had a brief presentation and sang a song for us that included the beautiful, graceful dance that is part of Rwandan culture. They also prayed for the two of us. They asked God to provide us with health, strength and traveling mercies. They especially prayed for our safe passage down the mountain. They knew that we Americans would be frightened driving down a wet, slippery, muddy road.

We were blessed. I am not sure what the pastors got from our time together. What I received was a strengthened love for Jesus; a renewed passion for the proclamation of the gospel and a heart for the people of Rwanda. From this visit I felt a wonderful sense of being and doing exactly what God would have me do! And doing what I love. I thank the bishop for the invitation and the pastors simply for being.

As always, I am continually Madagascar, West and Central Africa bound.

*(excuse the upside down video, I just wanted to share)

%d bloggers like this: