A Reading from Ash Wednesday: Psalm 103

One of readings for Ash Wednesday was Psalm 103, which begins and ends with, "Bless the Lord, O my soul." 

Some thoughts:

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him. For he knows how we were made; he remembers that we are dust.” vs. 13-14.

I remembered a photo of my father holding my week-old son. Dad, who was uncomfortable holding babies, fearful he’d hurt or drop them, is deep in thought, prayer, exhaustion, lament, worry, intercession. Carl is sound asleep on his shoulder. What should have been a moment of great joy was one of anxiety, as my parents were reeling from the news that my marriage was disintegrating. The photo captures my dad's concern and compassion. 

This is my picture of God, the father, who “has compassion on his children.” God the father who loves, groans for us, weeps for us, yearns for our well-being.

God forgives, heals, redeems, crowns with love and mercy, satisfies and renews.
There's a progression here in this first part of the Psalm (vs. 1-5). God forgives us for our sins, our acts of disobedience, our behavior toward each other and toward creation. He heals. We need healing from our wounds—wounds that we inflict on others, wounds we inflict on ourselves, wounds we inflict on creation. It is not enough to be forgiven. We must also be healed from the trauma. God redeems. God makes anew, recreates, raises up out of the ashes. Transforms hearts, minds. Anoints us. Takes what was damaged and makes something new—something we couldn’t have imagined. Crowns with love and mercy. Gives us what we need to move forward, to serve again and anew. God gives us the gifts of love and mercy to share with others. Satisfies and renews. What more to say?

God is just and mighty. God is tender and compassionate.
This second section of the Psalm (vs. 6-14) begins with image of the mighty, just and righteous—the God of great power, authority, integrity. The God on high. But it concludes with the image of the tender, compassionate father—the parent who knows the child—knows the circumstances of the child’s conception, birth, and family. The picture is of the father who knows intimately who and why the child is as she is. This father does not judge, but loves and is full of compassion.

But there is something else. Verse 6 says, "The Lord works vindication and justice for all who are oppressed." God is merciful. He vindicates the oppressed. He brings justice. But then the section continues to recount God’s mercy and grace. God does not hold his anger. "The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. He will not always accuse, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities." This includes the oppressor. 

What a slap upside my self-righteous head! I had been on the cheering squad in verse 6, “Yeah, God! Free the oppressed! Bring justice!” But then the Psalm spins me around and reminds me that once God brings justice, God then “forgives, heals, redeems, crowns, and satisfies.” Yes, God has compassion even on the perpetrator. The oppressor is one of “his children” too.

And to be honest, I perpetrate, oppress, and harm. I may not knowingly enslave another human being. But my buying preferences, my desire for “affordable” (read: “cheap”) goods may fuel a business built on human slavery. The newest piece of technology I buy was most likely assembled in a factory of inhumane working conditions. And how do I harm or oppress people in my daily life? What attitudes do I harbor? What words do I use? God forgives, heals, redeems, crowns, and satisfies me. Again.

Verses 15-18 is a bit distant. It's written in the 3rd person

As if we need to step outside a bit and look more analytically? Speaks about "mere mortals," and "those who fear" God. The section before used 1st person: God "removes our transgressions from us," and "knows how we were made." But now it's 3rd person. We step back a bit. And the writer uses simile. Mortals "are like grass; they flourish like a flower." But God's love is "steadfast." Still love. Still everlasting.

We are called to join the rest of creation--that part of creation that does God's bidding.
At the end, verses 19-22, we come back around a call to bless God. First there is the call to the angels, hosts, ministers—the heavenly bodies ("Bless the Lord, O you his angels, you mighty ones who do his bidding") and creation ("Bless the Lord, all his works, in all places"). This is a great chorus of creation and angels and mighty ones—all that God created during the first 5 days. This is all of creation that follows God’s precepts. It’s we human beings, we mortals who break the laws, disturb the order, insist on our way, who need to be reminded to bless the Lord. Everything else in creation does what God has ordained.

And then the bookend: "Bless the Lord, O my soul." I am part of this wonder that is creation. I am one of many. One of an entire universe. And God knows me.

I'm needing that reminder these days. "Bless the Lord, O my soul." In everything, in every way. For God forgives me, heals me, redeems my life and my choices and my actions, gives me the benefits and gifts of love and mercy, and satisfies me "with good." 

A holy cycle.

Moving

A bit of levity.

The Great Blue Gate

Something interesting passed by our bright blue gate this morning.
The gate is a heavy metal thing that clangs and squeaks and stands about 9-10 feel tall.

While I was enjoying the last cup of coffee, I noticed a chunk of sheet metal passing just above the top line of the gate. It looked like a roof or side of a building.

Movers take a few minutes to rest

Curiosity demanded that I check it out.

Opening the gate, I was surprised to see a group of 8 or 9 men carrying one of Beni's ubiquitous, roadside stores down the road.

Don't like the local customer base? Pick up and move!

A Public Apology

Mama Odette and Mama Furaha are patient, kind, loving, talented women. They are the two women who prepare meals, clean the house, and wash laundry for those of us who live in the international staff house here in Beni. They build the charcoal fire each day, sift the rice, sort beans, clean hulls off the peanuts. Mama Furaha cuts, chops, and cooks delicious meals of greens, rice, beans, samosas, stews, chicken, and meat. Mama Odette sits on a low stool and hand washes our clothes in a bucket. With a charcoal-heated iron, she presses shirts and blouses, dresses and skirts. Both Mama Odette and Mama Furaha welcome guests with generous hospitality. They coach me as I struggle with Swahili. They are patient when I butcher the language and struggle to form the simplest sentences. 

Yesterday in conversation I said, “Our mamas.” The words fell out of my mouth before I realized their message. It was too late.  How could I have stooped to that? “Our mamas,” as if they somehow “belonged” to those of us who live at the house? They are sisters in Christ. They are teachers here in this place. They are God's blessing.

I am sorry, Mama Furaha. I am sorry, Mama Odette. Forgive me.

Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.

A few thoughts from the week

Humility. Seems like the week has been full of lessons on humility.

• Listen first and talk only when asked. 
• There is wisdom in the silence. 
• There is wisdom in the apparent confusion. 
• There is something to learn when I'm least willing to learn. 
• Suit up and show up, even if I don't feel like it. 
• God does provide. 
• And, as my daughters remind me whenever they have the patience to run with me, and I'm exhausted and am ready to quit, 'This is where the work gets done.'"

Learning a new language is difficult. One of my 6-month goals is to develop basic fluency (competency?) in French and Swahili. On one hand, there could be no better opportunity. UCBC students and staff are French speakers, and Swahili is the language of everyday life. I have books, home-made flashcards, notes from impromptu lessons in the hallway. At home Mama Furaha, Mama Odette, and Papa Gabby are solicitous and patient as I ask for the fifth time, "Una sema wash dishes au Swahili?" ("How do you say wash dishes in Swahili?"). I try to give at least an hour each day to focused study. Mama Honoré (Decky) is the kindest, most competent French teacher. But an hour after study, it's all I can do to keep from melting in frustration and disappointment at my slow progress. Everyone is kind and patient. Colleagues' and students encourage me with, "Courage!" and "Ça vas venir." But progress is not at the speed I want or that I think I should have. Hmmm....humility again?



"Go to your Congolese sisters and brothers." When I came to Beni in 2010, Paul Robinson said that there would be a time (or times) when I'd feel like I was "hitting the wall"--when things would feel stuck, difficult, maybe even unbearable. "When that happens, go to your Congolese sisters and brothers." It was valuable counsel on several occasions over those months. It's advice that helped this week.
It was all I could do to keep from crying Thursday morning. Frustration with learning French and Swahili, being overwhelmed with the work that needs to be done, still trying to "put on my sea legs" (it's taken me the last two weeks to even find them!), acclimating to the "reality that is life in Congo" (David Kasali's words)... So, when Decky sat down to begin French lesson and asked, "Comment ça vas?" the tears began.
"How do you do it? How do Honoré and Manassé and Daniel and David do it? The work is so big."

Before answering, Decky offered the gift of quiet comfort. After several minutes of silence she explained how she has discovered solace in the act of giving thanks for the difficulties. We prayed. It was time for French. I was ready.


A Garden of Delights

A glimpse of "home"

Congo is full of surprises. This week during an evening walk, a school boy joined Dick, Ann, and me for a bit and practiced his English. “I am a boy. He is a man. We are walking.” After about three minutes he waved, “I have arrived,” and turned down a corner.

Nyumba Tunmaini (sp? Still learning!), the house that CI currently rents for international staff, is a newly built structure with interesting, locally-appreciated design features. The exterior is graced with large swirls of turquoise plaster. There is a street light of 5 tulip-shaped bulbs in 4 colors. Instead of a yard or garden, there is substantial “hardscape.” But in a narrow strip of hard dirt, against a cement wall, a banana tree flourishes. Its cluster of fruit steady and ripening in its course.

Bathroom shelving (do you see the soap, too?)

Abu Bakar, the night guard, uses the banana tree as storage   for his toiletries.