Stars and Statues and Knees in the Sand

All is quiet, but for the gentle picking of guitar strings somewhere outside. Seated in the dark and on the floor, my Dr. Seuss pyjama’d knees to my chest, and a cup of Rooibos steaming at my feet, I allow myself to float on the sound and for a moment the reality of conflict is forgotten. Lost in the air somewhere, along with the vibrational energy transmitted by the fewer-than-6 strings luring me in.

Simultaneously, across the Atlantic and on televisions worldwide, the red carpet is littered with celebrity wardrobe, outfits are being critiqued and relational statuses questioned (‘she arrived with WHO?’). The orchestra awakes and an evening is spent amongst the stars. Talents are celebrated, golden statuettes coveted, too-long acceptance speeches cut short, too-emotional speeches become a voice over for the ‘move-it-right-along’ musical cue, and speeches too-ridiculous are jeered at. A night at the Oscars! For some an evening of nothing but glitz and glam, and for others a platform for highlighting social justice issues. The world. For one night. Is all eyes on the stars. How else do we plan our upcoming movie nights, right?

Best song. Glory by John Legend featuring Common. If you don’t know it, look it up. Listen to the lyrics and allow yourself to really feel. Allow yourself to grow passionate about justice and the victory that is sure. While they played on a stage to millions, and while they championed social justice; here, blissfully unaware of it all in the tiny room we use more as a storeroom than anything else, I couldn’t help but being caught up in the music outside and in the Hope of a victory that is already ours!

Packed and ready for a week of village life with some of the most resilient and courageous men, women and children I have ever met, news of war and instability in the area came down like a boom on the hood of car. A slight delay? Yes. A robber of Joy and Hope? Not in the slightest. In fact, I cannot help but be uncontrollably excited at the brilliance of this set up. Because that is exactly what it feels like. A village teeming with soldiers. A village in which we have been preparing ground for years, sowing Life and Hope into the atmosphere. A village in which we have seen miracles of lives restored and relationships reconciled. How beautiful the juxtaposition of justice – justice through love - that brings peace and rest and which calls higher these men that are called beloved by the One who loved them first; rather than the bloodshed and despair that comes from shots fired and grenades flung. I may be called a dreamer. I may be called naive. But I’ve seen it happen. Soldiers choose Life. Why not this time?

Fresh is the story of one man, a soldier, who dropped his hatred and fiery anger as he crashed to his knees in the same dirt he claimed to be protecting with a gun. Two weeks ago, as we wandered through the village one evening, on the very edge of DRCongo’s jungle, seeking out what has become our favourite breakfast date – five women who work as prostitutes in a brothel – it happened. SO quickly that there was not a moment to process any of it until it was completely over.

Like an angry elephant bull, he charged at us from a path that cut between a mud hut and the long grass, demanding to know what we were doing in HIS village and commanding us to leave all in the same breath. He spat words of fury at us, standing nose-to-nose with our pastor and within we-can-feel-the-stale-warmth-of-your-breath-and-fine-spray-of-spittal-being-squeezed-through-your-teeth distance from us and continued to rant and rave. Shaking his fists he threatened to beat us and euphemistically marry us, again, all in the same jumbled sentence. His daggered eyes darted to and fro and his air of chaos literally had the small crowd that had formed, stepping backwards… once, twice and again.

And then, with gentle, but confident authority, our Pastor spoke for the first time: “I have a better idea. Drop to your knees and we’re going to pray that God comes and purifies your heart and your mind.” The thud echoed loudly – with not even the tiniest smear of resistance, the soldier fell to his knees

As we came around him, placed our hands on his shoulders and prayed, the Presence of God was tangible and the love of Jesus for this man, so raw that one couldn’t help but get a little teary-eyed. All over, we helped him to his feet. His countenance softer and his voice gentler, he engaged in light conversation and laughter with us. “Do you go to church?” our Pastor asked. And within no time at all, the soldier had committed to attending the church on the hill.

Before turning to leave, he dug deep into his pockets, pulled out a crumpled 500 franc note and pressed it into the hand of a team member. “Next month I will give my offering in a church, but this month, I will give it to the missionaries”. Perfect! We spun on our heels and gave it to the widow whose ‘front yard’ had just been an impromptu venue for radical transformation. A few more hand shakes and thank you’s and he was off – his gait light and almost animated.

In the backlash we prayed for healing over a few people, watched as the Presence continued to bring breakthrough and transformation for these women who had been in pain (notice I said HAD BEEN). He healed them. Completely.

Wait. What just happened?!?!

In the moments of rapid fire processing for the verbal processors amongst us, we could all but talk for the giggles, which literally bubbled up from deep within us, overflowing out of our mouths and eyes.

The victory is already ours! It’s already been done! Jesus did it. Again.

And so, I am fully confident in the Peace and Hope and Joy and Breakthrough that is coming to our village. I am fully confident in the transformative nature of His Presence and of His glory. And that this Glory dwells within us! As we press in for strategy in the candlelight of our ‘Upperroom’ in the city, patiently waiting for the proverbial boom to lift, we choose to celebrate the victory. We choose to celebrate forever nights of stars that are peace-filled and where the perpetrators of war are no longer governed by fear and control and driven by hatred.

When Wilber Wilberforce commented that, “No one our age has ever taken power,” to a 24-year old William Pitt about to become Britain’s youngest prime minister while the world stood back and laughed, he responded, “We’re too young to realize that certain things are impossible. Which is why we will do them anyway.”

The dreamer in me, the hoper and the believer in me. The fearless me and zealous me. The me that sees transformation before it’s done and the passionate-about-justice (but not as the world understands it) me is a lot like William Pitt, I think. And I am okay with that!

John Legend sang it out for millions to hear on Oscar night. May the Oscar which stands on the shelf in his studio (at least that is where I would have put it) not be vain. May the message for which it was won not be forgotten with the next big hit.

“No one can win the war individually,

It takes the wisdom of the elders and the young people’s energy

Welcome to the story that we call victory

Comin’ of the Lord, my eyes have seen the glory.

When the war is done, when it’s all said and done

We’ll cry glory, oh glory.

One day when the glory comes

it will be ours, it will be ours

One day when the war is won

We will be sure, we will be sure

Oh glory!”