Growing An Oak Of Righteousness

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of he Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of out God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.” Isaiah 61: 1-3

As Jesus began his public life, he entered the temple and read these words from Isaiah, added nothing to them and sat back down. People in the temple were shocked and perplexed. What did it all mean? Was Jesus really saying that he had the power to heal the physical, spiritual and emotional wounds of people? Could he really change people’s mourning into dancing? Could he really turn despair into shouts of joy? To those ancient Jews this kind of talk was scandalous at best and blasphemous at its worst. Even to my modern ears this kind of talk is still just as scandalous. I think we are all still wondering if Jesus really has the ability to turn our sorrow into joy and our deep pain into shouts of praise. Can my weak spirit really be turned into a strong oak of righteousness?

I went to heaven this week, not the one with winged angels and streets of gold, but the one whose name means heaven. I went to Gulu in Northern Uganda. Heaven is a strange word to associate with this place, as it has been the site of war and chaos for the last 25 years. This region has been overrun with rebels for nearly a quarter of a decade. These rebels have kidnapped children forcing them to murder their fellow community members. They have destroyed villages, raped women, executed any that oppose them and created a place where violence is a daily occurrence. It is a land more associated with hell than with heaven.

Miraculously within the last year, peace has slowly invaded this place of chaos and for the time being the guns are silent. The rebel group is currently in discussion with the Ugandan government and everyone is holding their breath and praying for a peace that will last. Thousands of people have spent the last 20 years living in Displaced People’s camps without access to clean water, food, education or health care. One camp I visited had over 15,000 people living almost on top of each other. They had one working well, one medical clinic with only one medical assistant, and not enough food to keep the children free from large distended stomachs. When I asked the family I was visiting what they wanted most. They simply said, ”I want to go home. I want peace.”

It is in the backdrop of this great suffering that the Cornerstone Youth Corps Homes exist to care for the children who have lost everything. They don’t have family that can care for them either because they are dead or because they are violent. As it turns out violence often times breeds violence. Therefore many of these children come into town and live on the streets. They learn to steal to survive. They learn to be tough and to numb their emotions. They learn not to trust anyone. They learn that hope is dead and survival is all that matters. It is these children who are the least among the least that are invited to come to the Cornerstone Youth Corps Homes.

As I entered the gate and first laid eyes on this home that invites those who have deep painful wounds of despair to live among them; I wondered if Jesus could really turn despair into dancing, mourning into gladness and turn these bruised wicks into oaks of righteousness?

Over the days I was living with these children, I saw the pain just behind their eyes. The youngest ones would cry easily over seemingly small things. Rodney, who is one of the youngest among the boys, was asked to brush his teeth. He flat out refused and tried to run away from the home. The older boys ran after him and brought him back to the mentor where he cried for almost 25 minutes. Finally with huge tears streaming down his face, he brushed his teeth. Whenever I took this little one’s picture he would put up his fists and try to look tough. Still every day, I would hug him, smile at him and try to talk to him. I poured the love that Jesus had given me into his hard little heart. Would this little love offering allow God to do what he claimed he could do? I wondered.

The last evening I was with the kids, we gathered at about 6:00pm to dance. Over the last week they had met each evening to practice their tribal dance. This dance helps remind these bruised children that they belong to a greater community. They are Acholi and it is good to be Acholi. So, I stood by Rodney as they danced to the rhythm of the drum. This dance requires cooperation and a great willingness to move in the same rhythm as those around you. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes and tried to move as one united group. They sang the words out loud and proud in harmony with each other. Suddenly, as I looked around I saw joy. I don’t know exactly when it came, but it was there. As they danced their spirits seemed to release some of the pain and they seemed lighter. They were laughing. They were smiling from deep within. When I looked down into Rodney’s face there was a genuine look of joy. It was the first time I had seen him look like that all week.

They continued dance after dance until the sky grew dark and all I could see was their white teeth glowing in the darkness. Suddenly, the oldest girls and boys began to dance toward the house. They entered the home still singing, laughing and dancing. The lights were switched on and the sound of their voices became deafening. As I moved toward the house I felt a small hand in mine. I was surprised to see Rodney’s hand holding mine. Suddenly, he looked less like a tough street kid and more like a small 9-year-old boy.
He held my hand as we danced together. Suddenly, I found myself laughing too.

Then in a shift I could barely perceive, I heard the name of Jesus being sung in Acholi-Yesu, Yesu, Yesu. I stopped and looked around. These children were jumping, dancing, throwing their hands in the air and with great smiles they were singing of God’s great love. I turned around and around in the middle of it all and suddenly I witnessed God turning these same children who had I seen in deep despair throughout the week into children who were shouting praise to the God that loved them. All at once the singing began to wind down and the children began to pray. Some knelt on the ground, some leaned against the wall, some stood with arms raised, some walked around the room, but all of them began to talk to God. I heard all their voices at once, some still joyously praising God for his goodness, some crying and asking God for his grace, some just moaning. Jesus’ precious orphans were talking to the God that loves them and it was a holy moment.

As this time of praise and worship ended, Rodney followed me to my room. He tugged at my dress and showed me a scratch he had on his leg. Then he asked me for a band-aid. This wound was in no need of a band-aid, but I think he was in need of some motherly love. I seriously studied the small scratch; put lots of anti biotic on it and then the biggest band-aid I could find. More importantly I hugged him. He then asked me if I would be his friend. “I would love too,” I responded. “Will you come back?” He asked. “I would love to.” And I would love to. I know it takes more than band-aids and a week to make a real relationship that will create lasting change, but it dawned on me that God was here all the time. He was creating gladness in the midst of despair. He was turning mourning into dancing and it was beautiful to behold.

I wondered-- will Rodney’s weak little heart so frail with pain and rejection ever be an oak of righteousness that displays God’s splendor? In that same moment, I looked at all the mentors living in that house and realized with deep amazement that God had turned their same weak bruised war torn spirits into large strong oaks of righteousness and I had spent a week marveling at God’s beautiful splendor as it poured out of them in the form of love for these bruised children.

As followers of Jesus, we can be sure that he will comfort those who mourn, he will grieve with those that grieve, he will turn despair into gladness and he will slowly grow those in pain into strong oaks of righteousness. Jesus spoke those words so long ago and it gives me great joy to know that he is who he claims to be.

Update on my life:

I had a fantastic week in Gulu. It was beyond words. I saw people living in conditions I never thought possible in the IDP camps. It was heartbreaking and it has forced me to pray more earnestly for peace. I hope you will join me! It also gave me great insight as to why the widows fled their homeland. I can’t wait to talk to my dear widows about Gulu. It will be good to share that with them. Seeing the Youth Corps program there was so good. The mentors do a fabulous job with those kids. I am amazed and so inspired!

I was also able to spend time with Lucy Atim, a very good friend. She looks just as lovely as ever and I enjoyed seeing her apartment. By the way, she is a fantastic cook! The lunch she made was very good! I can’t wait to see her again, as I am hoping to head up to Gulu again sometime soon.

My friend, Jens, arrived yesterday and is enjoying his first few days in Uganda. It is nice to have a friend from home to share all of this with.
My week will be more “normal” this week as I am in Kampala all week. I will see the widows tomorrow and will give you a better update on their plan next week. Please keep praying for them!

I uploaded a bunch of pictures from Gulu, the Youth Corps Homes, and my friends, so check it out. Just click the pictures link on the side of my blog.

Much love,
Kari