We didn’t know what to expect at the memorial. I was very
impressed at the effectiveness of how this memorial was set up. The genocide
memorial walked you through several sections—pre-genocide, events leading up to
the genocide, the genocide itself and what was left. Then came the displays: family photos, bullet-riddled clothes and
finally the bones. Upstairs reminded us
of other tragic genocides of the last century—not restricting genocide to a
certain nation or people group. The
hardest was the final room, pictures and stories of the Rwandan children, whose
lives ended far too soon.
Each turn brought a new depth of grief, each display, heart
break. How does one begin to comprehend
such destruction, death and hatred? I
realized how sheltered I had become. We
can get so comfortable with life that we forget the finality of death. One
sentence struck me as we walked through the displays. Following the devastating photos of the
genocide, it was said, “Rwanda was Dead.” Shattered. Destroyed.
Left without Hope.
As a believer, I don’t know if I have ever known such
darkness or devastation. Even in my
hardest days, somehow hope in Christ brought me through. I cannot fathom facing the extreme violence
and heartache that so many suffered—with or without Christ.
One cannot fathom the power of hope. For survivors, it must have been such a
slender thread of hope that kept them
going. Only by the grace of God.
I have heard it said that when horrific events like the
genocide occur, God must not exist or not care.
I feel the opposite. The sad
reality is that sin has entered our world and is at work today. Where I see God is when these events of happened
and a person, family or country is left to pick up the pieces and rays of love
shine through. When a thread of hope
exists after everything has been stripped away, you see God at work. When forgiveness is extended even before an
apology is offered, how can you deny the love of God? When a lone survivor finds the strength to
carry on, it is only by the grace of God.
When I look around this land, I can sense the grief and
mourning, but I also see strength, love and hope rising up. The reality is a wound of this magnitude will
take decades to heal, but in the midst of this pain, you see God’s grace and
healing. Where communities and
friendships were divided for so many years, you now see a connection and
comradery that knits these people together.
As we get to know the people and the culture, we are amazed
at how much each one looks out for the next.
In a village, it’s not for the betterment of one, but the betterment of
all. Oh how I have so much to learn, for
my community, for my church and for those God brings into my life. May God take these lessons from Rwanda and
bind them to my heart!
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