Before anyone gets all worried and bent out of shape, I didn't really get killed…. And no, I don't mean to make a joke of it either…
Keep reading to hear the relevance of the title!!
This past week, my team had the privilege of going to camp with our church's youth group, Firehouse. It was called "Into the Son." There were almost 150 high school students there (8th-12th grades) from three different churches. The schedule was packed with sessions!
We arrived Tuesday afternoon, after taking Michelle to the doctor's for a sinus infection. We were free until dinner and then the fun began! Right after dinner, we had a time of intercession. Chris and I played along with the worship leader, Charlie while we prayed [me on ukulele and Chris on Djembe). We had our first session afterwards, and Tristan [our youth pastor] and the leaders wasted no time getting into the thick of things!
The sessions all week were focused on giving the students tangible ways to be rooted in their faith, so that they would still be walking with the Lord twenty years from now. The week focused a lot on the tree analogy that is seen throughout the Bible: how David says in Psalm 1 that we are to be like trees, planted by streams of living water and we will be green and fruitful in all seasons. And how in Jeremiah, he speaks that those rooted in God will flourish and will not worry about drought or heat. And how Jesus said He was the vine and we are the branches. The sessions were teaching on the many different roots that we can cultivate and grow in to be more firmly rooted. But the most important root, is our tap root: Jesus. We talked about the significance of the palm tree analogy and the oak tree analogy.
We started every morning with devotionals with our dorms. Cathy and I were in the same dorm with five other girls and the dorm leader, Emma. The scriptures that were chosen for devotionals went along well with the teachings. There were many people who got up to speak for sessions, but they were all powerful and filled with the Spirit. After each session, time was left to minister to each other. Students came forward for prayer, asking to be filled with the Holy Spirit. The first night, several kids gave their lives to the Lord for the first time in their lives. Others recommitted their lives to Him. Souls were saved. Prodigal sons returned home.
And that's not even all that happened this week!
On the second day of camp, we took a handful of kids into the township, less than a kilometer from the camp where we were staying, and walked around for an hour, talking to people, asking them what they needed, and praying for them. We didn't spend much time in the slum, but it was enough to rattle some of the kids and leaders who had never seen poverty like that before.
As a team, we introduced them to debriefs, and helped debrief them after the first trip into the township. After the debrief, some of the leaders went out to buy some of the things the people in the township said they needed: blankets, coats, hot water bottles, shoes, socks, food, a bed…
That night, we showed some pictures from our trip and asked the kids to pray about whether God was asking them to give money to help the cause. That next morning, we took an offering at session and the kids gave nearly R3000 (close to $300). The leaders took a few students and went out again to buy even more food and supplies to hand out.
That afternoon, we took nearly 50 students into the township to help hand out food and supplies. What a sight! The students were so engaged and were so excited to just hold a child or play soccer in the streets with some boys. It was tough for us all that we knew we didn't have enough for everyone and that we couldn't possibly help everyone who came that day.
It was that afternoon that I got killed in the slum. You see, we played an ongoing game all week at camp called Assassins. If you've never heard of this game, it's where you are trying to "kill" someone secretly. But you can only "kill" them if they are more than 5m away from everyone else. Once you kill your target, you then get their target and try to kill them. Until everyone is eventually killed. My killer had been stalking me from the moment the game started. But I was smart and had been staying with people all the time, particularly Cathy. And in the slums, Cathy walked away from me to talk to a child in the streets, and my killer made his move. For just a few seconds, I was alone and I was out of the game. Horrible timing, and I probably could have convinced him it didn't count because we were doing ministry, but I bowed out graciously. It was a fun game. Michelle was the final American standing and she lasted to the end. But the game never really ended. There were still about a dozen or so people alive by the time we left camp.
After that day in the slums, we again debriefed everyone that went. It was such a privilege to go with this group and help them properly process through everything they'd seen. It was in no way the worst we had seen on the Race. ANd sadly, we may have become a bit desensitized to this. But we have been where they were. We experience the culture shock, the feelings of helplessness, the feelings words can't even describe. But one thing going for these students, is that this poverty is literally in their back yards. These townships are right around the corner from most of their houses. And the people there need the love they have to share. There are soup kitchens, after school programs, baby homes, sports ministries… They don't have to go overseas to experience it. It's real. It's right here.
When I first came to South Africa, it was a big culture shock. I didn't know how to handle the mixed feelings of feeling like we were back in America and also seeing how impoverished people living right down the street are. How could it be so drastic? So visible? So close? Wasn't anyone doing anything about it? What could I do about it? The history of this country is very sad. And many people in this country are still scared from the effects of the Apartheid. But after being here for almost a week now, it's challenged me to look more closely once I go back to America. This type of poverty exists there, too. They may live in nicer buildings, probably government housing like the Projects, but it's there. The same types of things are happening. Parents are unemployed, drowning their sorrows with alcohol, and the children are abused, neglects, and turn to crime and gangs to escape it.
Even though I went around the world for a year, my heart still goes out to the poor, oppressed, unseen in our own country. Because they are no better or no worse than any of the oppressed around the world. They are no better or worse than even you.
Into the Son 2013
