My heart is full this morning. It’s painful within my chest, heavy with the death of a United Methodist leader who went out to the Shire River looking for food for his family only to be killed by a crocodile; pained by the deceit of pastors willing to take donor money; broken-hearted that we can’t support our pastors well enough that they would have to consider such temptations. My heart aches to go home and hug those who love us and my heart beats faster thinking about leaving behind those whom we love and who have become family here.
This morning I’ve read the prayers of Pam Hawkins in The Awkward Season, and she gave words to my sighs. I am listening to God is Alive by Brother Henry and I feel like they have surely walked these dust roads with me because their songs name my deep groans. I’m so grateful for artists and authors and servants of God who are willing to share their gifts and support people they may not even know and people so many miles away.
The scripture this morning was Romans 5:1 – 11, suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, character hope and hope does not disappoint. I pray that this full heart, that the pain and leaden weight in my chest are the birth pains of hope being born in me. This hope cannot be born of naiveté or academic study, but only through hard-fought, brutal, foolish-to-this-world, tear-stained life. It’s a hope that echoes through every worship chorus in the villages, through every song in worship on Sunday. Because the people of Malawi have lived in a place where hope is all they have and it has not disappointed them.
I pray that this hope be born and live in me, to expand my heart that it may hold the multitude of joys and that it might grow stronger to hold the weight of suffering that confronts me each day.
Oh, Kara and Jeff, my heart is aching with you at the injustice of it all. I wish my arms could reach through this computer and surround you and this leader’s family. In the meantime, feel support . . . even from a distance.