This article was submitted to both Jon's and my employers for use in their newsletters. We are delighted that either of them would want to distribute our story. And I thought I would publish here, too, for funsies... in case you aren't on either of those lists.
Not many people have experienced horrors worse than most scary movies out there; witnessed, or even participated in, acts that make one question just how far-reaching "is" God's mercy anyway? But some have. And the Village of Hope exists for just such people.
Through Village of Hope they are plucked from poverty. They are counseled and cared for. They are provided shelter, safety, food, community and love. And after those many atrocities they were forced to be a part of, they can finally find the kind of freedom and forgiveness that might otherwise seem unattainable. Oh - and did we mention they are children!
Most are former abductees of the Lord's Resistance Army - a militant group of terrorists based in northern Uganda that is known for its heinous human rights violations, including murder, abduction, mutilation, sexual enslavement of women and children, and forcing kids to participate in hostilities.
That is their past. Village of Hope gives them a future.
We were interested the moment we learned there was a mission trip going to Uganda to care for orphans; that is our passion after-all. And it seemed that every time we turned around we were hearing about this trip making it near impossible to ignore. And so with full hearts and willing hands we signed up to be part of the 12-person team that would spend two weeks sharing the love of Christ with the children of Village of Hope.
This team would become like family to us. In Africa we shared everything from meals and huts to much laughter and even a few tears. But before we ever left American soil we met together almost weekly for three months to pray together, plan curriculum and songs, learn about the culture and share resources and inoculation horror stories. :)
And on August 4, our team-family waved goodbye to loved ones and embarked on a journey that would change the beat of our hearts forever.
The children were so gentle and sweet, so warm and loving. There was no shortage of smiles and curtseys, then eventually, hugs and cuddles. They soaked up every bit of attention and love we poured over them. They sang constantly, in the classroom or doing chores, and wanted to learn every song we knew, which we had to sing with them over and over again.
They live their lives simply and peacefully, but we know that wasn't always the case, and sometimes it was difficult to remember there was a former LRA abductee behind those bright smiles and soft voices. Until we joined them for prayer.
Every morning and every evening the children would gather and sing praises to God and worship him with a fervence most Americans need in a bad way. And soon those songs would fade into prayers, cries out to the Father, wails, even! For these kids have seen darkness. And while they have been rescued and saved, those nightmares and grief still pain them. They are haunted by deaths of parents or siblings, sometimes at their own forced hands. The blood, violence and innocence lost are thick in their pleas for God to free them from their horrors.
Most of the children would pray on their knees with their heads bent to the cold, cement floor, but some would turn their faces into the wall behind them and let out such mournful cries that shivered our very souls.
What do you do with that?
What can some "Mzungus" (white people) from a comfortable, safe and clean (spoiled? indulgent?) life in Allen, TX, do for these precious children? How can we relate? What can we possibly offer them that could be of any real value?
We brought the kids new clothes, some much-needed school supplies, sports equipment and materials to make crafts. But the greatest gift we brought with us was, unexpectedly... us.
They have been shunned by whatever relatives they may have left, shunned by their villages, shunned by their communities. And after experiencing so much rejection like that, over and over... imagine then having someone you don't even know being willing to spend time and money to travel across the globe to just walk with you to the well and sing songs with you and hold your hand.
Imagine the value that you would begin to feel again. Imagine starting to see how big God's love is for you, that he would provide this team of strangers to love you and hug on you and tell you stories about God -- not just through their lessons in the classroom but also in the way they behave toward you and seem to just love you no matter why you have been rejected in the past. Imagine.
They wanted us. They wanted our time and our attention. And in that, was their very happiness. These children who have seen darkness, who have walked through hell and come out on the other side, have found a God full of forgiveness that can cover and cleanse anything they had to do to survive. They found a God who sustains them and gives them peace. And a God who sends human hands to hold them, human voices to sing for them, and human hearts that will overflow with love for them.
Those are our hearts! They beat differently now. When we're very still, they almost sound like an African drum, softly, rhythmically calling us back to sing for the children again.
Can you hear it?
Jon and Trace
Follow our journey
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