Gentle Reader,
It’s easy to block out what’s going on beyond the boundaries of our homefronts. It’s easy to get wrapped up in silly little things. Petty jealousies, pointless disputes.
God sends timely reminders.
Earlier today I read this month’s newsletter from Voice of the Martyrs. The Sudanese government is attempting to wipe out people in three separate regions – Darfur, South Kordofan and Blue Nile. Dictator Omar al-Bashir wants to force out and/or wipe out the non-Muslim, non-Arab population. Government forces continually bomb hospitals, schools, churches and fields of crops. Anything to keep the area destabilized and prevent people from getting what they need. Children are forced to dive into foxholes, speckled throughout every village and town, in hopes of surviving the aerial assaults. In South Kordofan there are 2 doctors, 2 clinics and one mobile unit (a tent) for 1.1 million people. The government has made all humanitarian and medicalaid illegal. Voice of the Martyrs team members have been arrested for attempting to help.
And yet our brothers and sisters cling to hope and joy. They are glad that their Muslim neighbors are open to the Gospel as never before. All they ask of us, swaddled in our Western comfort, is that we pray – and that we remember them.
Remember them.
Reading those words stole my breath and broke my heart.
Linking up with Kate and the usual suspects. We ponder: comfort.
Go.
Dear Lord,
So many of Your dear children are not safe tonight. They don’t know when or if the next meal will come. When or if there will be clean water. When, not if, the persecutors may yank the door open, tearing apart the family, dragging loved ones off to jail and death.
Mothers cradle malnourished children.
Fathers try to protect them.
Those children are kidnapped, forced into military service.
Bombs explode, tearing homes, hospitals, schools, churches, whole villages to bits. Tearing apart bodies. Bringing life to a swift, painful end.
I know You see them, Father. I know You love them.
Please, dear Jesus, grace these, the ones who carry the bright light of Your Gospel into the darkest places, grace them with the comfort of Your tangible presence. Grant them spines of steel and knees that bend only to You. Protect their minds, their hearts. Guard their faith. May they be a brilliant testimony of Your power and mercy.
And us, Holy One, who doze so comfortably – wake us.
For our brothers and sisters need our prayers.
Our love.
Our practical aid.
If it is Your will, please bring this madness to an end. Let those in power hear and be transformed by Your word, flowing from the cracked lips of Your faithful ones. If not, if for reasons beyond my understanding this evil must be allowed room to roam – fill your children with such love and passion and joy that, though they be killed, they cannot be denied.
In Jesus’ Name,
Amen.
Stop.
My husband is the human resources director for a local hospital. Before retiring, my mother worked in doctor’s offices, oversaw the medical records department at the same hospital and ended her career doing something called credentialing (I know nothing about that). My brother and I owe much to the doctors and nurses who have cared for us, far beyond monetary debt. I am, without doubt, pro-medicine.
So I’m putting my money where my mouth is. I won’t sit idly by while people – Christian or not – suffer at the hands of a violent, corrupt government.
We can’t give much, but we can give something. I have a feeling you can, too.
Go here to donate.
