Guest Blogger Olivia Terry - Abong's Story

From Guest Blogger Olivia Terry, MWP Assistant Field Coordinator


It’s been nearly a month since I returned from Sudan, but as I look at pictures I can still hear the singing and laughter of the beautiful women and children I laughed, cried, danced, played, and prayed with. As my mind rummages through the tinderbox of their stories my heart is deeply stirred by the treasures I continue to discover.

Abong’s beautiful smile—beaming at me through the photograph I hold of her—pulls her story to the surface of my bank of memory. Abong is a Traditional Birth Attendant (TBA), also known as a midwife. Abong, along with 9 other women, packed her tiny bag and walked through countless miles of bush to attend the labor and delivery training Make Way Partners offered at Hope for Sudan.

South Sudan has the world’s highest maternal and infant-mortality rates. Women, such as Abong, are both desperate and eager to learn ways to help other women in their communities. These women serve on the frontlines of bringing new life into their newborn nation. Their unique mission to support life reveals a glimpse of restoration and redemption in this broken world.     

Abong wants the world to know her story—and the story of her people—so that they can begin to understand how to help. She shifted to the edge of her seat with pregnant eagerness as she opened herself to share a precious piece of her heart and story with me.

Abong has lived her entire life in South Sudan. Through decades of war, peace, famine, rains, and drought Abong has remained in her home land. As a child she attended a local Catholic church and then school where she was given the education and opportunity to work in the medical clinic in Torit.

As a young woman she married and had 9 children. Even though she works in the medical field, Sudan’s harsh elements combined with its lack of resources and education robbed two of her children. One child died from malaria and other from measles. My heart ached when I heard this. Anger and sadness washed over me as I considered how both illnesses that stole her children’s lives from her are easily cured…when you have access to proper medicines.  Now that Abong works in a medical clinic, she hungers for as much training and resources as possible. Her mission is to offer healing and prevention of such futile and avoidable deaths.

As she shared, Abong’s face slowly transfigured from stern and grief-stricken to that bright and hopeful smile you see in the picture. She looked up from the ground and her eyes met mine. She spoke thanks to God for blessing her with 7 children still living and even a living husband. She told me it was extremely rare and it made her a rich woman that she still has 7 living children and a living husband. Every other woman in our medical and discipleship training was a widow and had lost children from war, famine, and disease. Abong’s thanksgiving to our Lord in the midst of such unbearable loss not only humbles me, but also leaves me searching my heart for the treasures Abong holds dear.

Abong recounted that over her lifetime she has seen and felt the wars of Sudan ebb and flow. She said that her heart is full of hope for the Republic of South Sudan but wanted me to understand that her country is still at war. She shared that though she has stayed in South Sudan all of her life and never fled to surrounding countries, she has none-the-less had a life of flight. In her words: “One village is not my home because I have had to run to surrounding villages all my life.”  She described her nomadic journey, “When we hear the guns fire, I grab my children and run to the bush. There, we sit for hours, waiting for silence. Then many times, the rains come. When the rains come I cover my children with my body and put my dress over them. I pray that they do not cry so we are not heard. The only way to keep my family alive many times has been by taking the dirt on the ground into my hands, adding water and feeding it to my children. When there is no rain to wet the dirt, I spit.”

Abong noticed my intense stare of awe and empathy. She began to laugh and said, “It is what we mothers do, you would do it too if you had to.”

If you had to…Those words have been ringing in my head since they first left her mouth with laughter. Would I huddle my children under me like a mother hen and feed them my spit, sand and dirt to give hope, to give life, to pass on trust in the Lord? Something tells me I cannot dismiss that statement “If you had to…” with the simple conclusion that I have no children from my womb or that I can legally call my own.

Who are the mothers to the thousands of orphans in South Sudan? Who will protect, fight for, pray for, and provide for these little ones?

Abong’s mother love is both fierce and tender. She is a mother to her own, and works to keep mothers alive for the little ones who are being ushered into life. Through her service as a midwife she can literally change the generations to come for South Sudan. Her willingness to challenge what her culture deems as “good tradition” --- but is really dangerous superstition --- and her passion for truth will save lives. She has committed herself to taking what she has learned at the Hope for Sudan medical training and discipleship and sharing it with many more women in her community.

Pray for Abong and the other 9 women as challenging cultural birthing practices is very risky for them. As I stated in Bernetta’s story, these women are going against cultural practices by choosing to follow the new ideas in the medical training they have received. Many of the women will feel great shame when they learn that the superstition and customs they traditionally practiced have actually led to deaths.   Please pray for the 10 women that opened their hearts and minds to this new training at Hope for Sudan. Pray that they will share their good news with clarity, grace, patience, and courage. Pray that the messages of life-saving medical practices along with the Gospel may be received gracefully and with mercy.

The country with the world’s highest delivery-death rate has left behind one million orphans. Even while we work to keep mother and child together, we need many to “stand in the gap’ for the orphans this death rate has already created. Sponsor a child today – click here:  http://www.makewaypartners.org/child-sponsor-main.php

In Christ,
Olivia

Nyamlel Winds by Guest Blogger Matt McGowen, Sr. Field Coordinator

“Something terrible has happened” were the first words James Lual Atak shot at me from across the world, through a static-filled cell connection.   I steeled myself for whatever news was about to follow. Fear immediately gripped my heart as my mind raced through the worst possible scenarios.  Given the current situation in Sudan, particularly in the hostile border region where New Life Ministry is located, the possibilities within the “terrible” category are near infinite. I feared someone had died or there had been a military attack. I held my breath as I listened to James’ next words.

James explained that Sunday began as a typical Nyamlel day for this time of year – extremely hot and dusty.  After a morning of worship and preaching, and a full preceding week, he was exhausted and in need of rest for his body and soul. Likewise our children sought rest and ever elusive shade in their dormitories and other shelters.  This time of year is so hot that even our most robust children do not play in the afternoons.  The oppressive 130 degree heat of the day can only be endured by conserving energy.  Suddenly the afternoon silence was invaded by the sound of rushing wind and the screech of grinding metal.  James, the former child soldier and ever watchful leader, leapt into action to discover what was happening.  As he stepped outside he came face to face with nature’s violence - a storm was raging.  Windstorms are common in Nyamlel, but this was by far the worst that James has ever seen.  Children ran for shelter, struggling to see in the zero visibility of the sandstorm. Anything not anchored down was violently carried away. When the wind and sand finally settled, James’ heart sank when he realized the roof of one of the teacher’s houses on the New Life Ministry compound had blown off.

As James and his staff were assessing the damage on the teacher’s house, a group of girls came running up and frantically reported that their home had also been struck by the winds. James saw the fear and concern on the girls’ faces and accompanied them to the dormitory to see the damage.  Part of the girl’s dormitory roof was hit hard – some of the roof sheets were raised and folded back by the winds.  Now time is of the essence to repair the roof damage before another violent storm.

The girl’s dormitory at New Life Ministry is more than a building.  It is a symbol.  For children rescued from vulnerability to starvation, disease and slavery this building is home. It represents security and stability.  To the surrounding community this building represents hope, opportunity, the impossible being made real. It literally represents NEW LIFE.  James loves to tell visiting mission teams, “This was the first two storied building in the entire state!”

The onslaught of wind against that roof reminds me that we have so little control in this life, yet we love to live with the illusion that we do. Only last month James and I were talking about the sturdiness of the buildings at NLM and we commented specifically about the strength of our roofs, saying “Even the terrible windstorms here have never damaged these roofs.”  Life is often like that… we think we are in control, we think we have an area ‘nailed down,’ we think we have a plan. And then a mighty wind disrupts all we thought we knew.  My temptation is to rage at the wind and resist the disruption.

As a matter of fact, my first response to this news was to be angry with God.  As I think about the hardships facing the people of Sudan, and challenges facing MWP as we work in the region, the list is long. I looked toward the heavens and said, “REALLY GOD? Can’t these people get a break? In addition to impending war and insecurity, near impossible transportation, deep-seated corruption, countless bloodthirsty militias, rampant starvation and disease, is it really necessary for the forces of nature to join the dog pile? God, is there any hope? Does anything matter?”

Beyond the damage done on the New Life Ministry compound, many people in the community have lost their homes, leaving already vulnerable people even more exposed.  If winds were able to damage two of our sturdy steel roofs, just imagine how those same winds damaged the flimsy mud tukels and thatched roofs in the surrounding village.  Thousands live in weaved grass huts that offer little more protection than a thin curtain.  Hundreds of women and children are now left at the mercy of the elements as their homes and few possessions have been scattered in the winds.  While not as impressive as the girl’s dormitory, these mud and grass huts represented home to the families who lived there.  They represented security and dreams and hope for a better life.  And now they have been scattered like ashes to the wind.

For several days Paul’s words in Romans 8:20-21 have been ringing in my ears, as I consider the nature of our work in Sudan and elsewhere, and particularly as we are taking deeper steps in a Nuba Mountains orphan-care partnership, facing what seem to be impossible odds there:

²⁰ For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope ²¹ that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.

Paul does not deny the ‘futility’ of our human efforts and the struggle of life outside of Eden. He does not promise that our plans and our security won’t be blown away by disruptive winds.  Paul actually embraces the struggle, saying that our creator has subjected us to this futility that we might be awakened to hope.  Not a hope that says, “I will turn this world into the Eden I want it to be,” but rather a hope that says, “One day Christ will transform this broken world and my broken heart. One day He will make all things new.” Until then, may our heart’s cry be “COME LORD JESUS.”  The reality is that I have no more protection against the disruptive winds of this futile world than a Sudanese widow living behind a grass-thatched curtain.  My fortress looks more impressive but I am no more in control.  I rage against the wind and I spend immeasurable energy fighting for control that is only a mirage in the desert.  May you and I learn to accept the hope that is birthed through the realization of our utter dependence on a wild and unpredictable God – a Romans 8 kind of hope.

Please pray for those displaced by the recent windstorm in Nyamlel, for our truck filled with much needed supplies to reach New Life Ministry soon, and that our children might see this situation transformed into one more testimony to the faithfulness of a good God in the midst of a broken world.

Let us pray for the faithful ones serving Him against impossible odds today.  And may the impossibilities - the disrupting winds - we face in a world of futility awaken us to a living hope for new creation.

To financially partner in the ongoing work of MWP, please visit www.makewaypartners.org

Matt McGowen
Senior Field Coordinator

God the Butcher

When I set out to write Passport through Darkness my singular goal was to show the world the unbelievable oppression Sudanese women and children suffer. God’s goal was quite different; He was calling me to meet Him in my own suffering.

I imagine the experience from God’s perspective has been sort of like inviting a pig to dinner, watching her face snarl up as He fills her plate with bacon, sausage, and fatback flavored beans...then waiting for the pig to say grace over her meal.

From my side, it’s helped me to understand how my daughter Olivia felt when she was three-years-old, and I made the tragic mistake of telling her, “You will not get anything else to eat until you eat your dinner.”

After she fell asleep at the table that night, I put her untouched bowl of soup in the refrigerator. The next morning, Olivia looked as contemptuously at her warmed-over dinner as any self-respecting-stubborn-little piglet would have looked at a piece of bacon. By lunch, her cherubim face twisted at me like a fleshy corkscrew, and by dinner Olivia’s three-year-old will stabbed at me through eyes as angry as if I’d slit Barney-the-talking-dinosaur’s throat.

I felt desperate for my daughter to eat, but she refused the good food put before her, insisting on nourishment on her terms. Olivia did not cry. She did not scream. She just balled her fists into tight knots, gritted her teeth, and refused to eat her soup. The third morning, my will, not Olivia’s, was near to breaking. From breakfast-to-lunch was once again filled with a desperate mother’s prayers.

When I pulled the three-day-old soup for three-year-old Olivia from the fridge for lunch, tears began rolling down her chubby-little cheeks. The crack in her armor let lose a torrent. Her shoulders, earlier hunched in anger, now sobbed in release. Her open fist was free to pick up her spoon, which it did, and Olivia ate all of her soup. Admittedly, with all the sobbing much of it dribbled down her dimpled chin and onto her pink polka dots.

After Olivia ate, she climbed into my lap and laid her head on my breast. We spent most of the rest of the afternoon curled together in our favorite rocking chair.

Pig to God as she looks at the bacon on her plate, “Really God? I’m not only supposed to eat this stuff, but I’m actually suppose to bless it?”

God to pig as He holds the clever, “Will you trust me?”

I usually approach God with my own version of three-year-old-self-will. I am met by a Relentless God Who uses His clever with perfect skill and limitless mercy…my shoulders relax, my fists open, and my teeth no longer grind. When I remember that I am chosen and loved, I can savor whatever I am served.
‎k

Christian Alliance for Orphan's Summit

Christian Alliance for Orphans (CAFO) is one of God’s most powerful venues to educate and mobilize the Church on behalf of the orphans today.

One of the many things I love about CAFO is a bedrock commitment to the power of partnership. Make Way Partners and CAFO are strengthening our alliance to expose the many complex issues of orphan-hood and—with equal aggression—seeking options for long-term transformation, including indigenous care.

Adoption is one beautiful solution. Yet, with 163million orphans in our world, and war-torn countries like Sudan having one million of their own, we must ask ourselves what does the true worship of James 1:27 look like when adoption is not an option. WATCH:  The Unadoptable Orphan video.

We are working together be an even more effective bridge in connecting the Body of Christ—you and your family—to the orphan who cannot be adopted.

I will be leading a workshop on this topic at Saddleback church in Southern California on May 3-4 during the CAFO Summit. The entire  Summit will be exciting with guest speakers such as Francis Chan and musicians like Stephen Curtis Chapman. I strongly encourage you to sign up today, and join Milton and me at the Summit.

You can read CAFO’s president Jedd Medefind’s review from his blog on Passport through Darkness below:

In college, I studied til 2 AM most nights…but now I don’t think I’ve read past midnight in years.  So when a father of four like me stays up reading til 1:30 AM, you’ve got to guess the book was nearly impossible to put down.   It was.

I had the chance to spend some time on the phone a couple months back with Kimberly Smith, who leads Alliance member Make Way Partners.  I was struck her wisdom, forged in hardship and frontline experiences in some of the toughest places on earth.  I also admired her thirst to grow not just her own ministry, but the entire Christian orphan care movement in its every expression.  That day, I ordered her book, Passport through Darkness.  Christian bookstores are full of hyperbolic titles, so I wasn’t sure how much this book would align with its foreboding label.  It did.

Passport began at a moderate pace, exploring familiar-yet-still-highly-significant themes:  dissatisfaction with the “good life”; yearning for the “life to the full” Jesus offered; desire to pursue God wherever He led yet fearing what that may mean.  Christian bookstores, again, have no shortage of volumes that wade around the shoreline of these issues.  At first, I wondered if this book would, too.  Would Kimberly just slip her toes into the bracing waters and then write a book about it…or would she dive?  She dove.

The consequences of Kimberly’s big choice and countless other choices that have followed kept me up long after I finally finished the book at 1:30 AM.   Brutal.  Joyful.  Ugly.   Comic.  Tragic.  Redemptive.  Heart-crushing and heart-lifting.  It all lingers with me still, full of desire…my own fears, too…and an indubitable sense that the way of Christ is both more costly and more to be sought than anything else on earth.  Like a priceless pearl or treasure buried in a field.  It really is.

Far more could be said about Passport Through Darkness than would fit in a readable blog post.  The story you’ll have to read for yourself.  But one final thought.  What I valued most about the book is the raw honesty—transparency, authenticity—with which Kimberly wrote.  Those are buzzwords today.  But so few Christians, especially those in leadership, really share with the kind of vulnerability that the Psalmists wrote or in the way Jesus exposed himself to his disciples in the garden or on the cross.  Kimberly did.

And I won’t soon forget it. http://www.christianalliancefororphans.org/2012/03/06/passport-through-darkness/

Love, your sister along the connecting journey,
‎k