Grieving

Psalm 77

Village of Hope

The events of this week have affected us, some more than others. I want to say upfront that it is not that those who have been most affected have bigger hearts than those who were less affected. It has to do with how intimately connected you are to the Village of Hope and others who were deported.

This past Sunday at least 200 Christians were killed by Muslims in retaliation for attacks in January when 300 Muslims were killed. I read the stories but it did not cause me any emotional pain. Why? Because I don’t care? Not at all. But I have no close connection to those who suffered.

I have been grieving all this week because my connection to the Village of Hope was much more intimate.

When I came to Morocco in January 2000, I was told that I was on the board of the Village of Hope. I said I was not sure I wanted to be and was kindly told that as pastor I had no choice – I was on the board. I ended up being chairman of the board for the past seven or eight years. Although I resigned from the board a year and a half ago to give more time to our association of churches, I discovered that the paperwork had never been handed into the government and Herman informed me on Sunday that I was still chairman and the police had asked lots of questions about me.

I made my first visit to the Village of Hope in March 2000 and immediately fell in love with that place and with the vision it had to take in abandoned children. There were no buildings at that time, only the old building that had been vandalized and had to be torn down.

Rabat International Church was very much a part of the start of this home for children. Members of the church formed the first board for VOH and Errol and Michelle Muller and their daughters lived here in Rabat and were part of our church community before they moved up to Ain Leuh.

In the early years, RIC made five bus trips per year, up and back on a Saturday, to work at VOH. We moved rocks, tore down old walls, painted and did whatever else we could do to help. In addition, I made trips on my own. So I was at the Village of Hope twelve or more times each year.

I remember when Errol and Michelle took in the first child, Adam. If you have been to the VOH website, he is the boy on the left of Errol as Errol was explaining about having to leave them. Adam was a wizened peanut when he was a baby with his forehead wrinkled as if he was in deep thought. I have always had a special place in my heart for Adam and was looking forward to the next few years when we would be able to sit and talk together.

Amir is a sensitive boy with a bright spirit. He has been able to grow up safely with his sensitive nature but I worry what will happen to him in a more rigid, institutional structure.

Sabah was born prematurely and was so small her mother could not tell if she was holding her in a blanket or not. She has grown into a beautiful little girl.

Rafiq has an impish nature.

Hannan is a very mature little girl who needs special attention as she ages.

I don’t know all of the 33 children well, but I see their smiles and their individual personalities.
When I visited VOH the kids would call out to me, “Ammi Jack. Ammi Jack”. “Uncle Jack. Uncle Jack.”

Errol and Herman have been two of my closest friends over my ten years in Morocco. They have been in an accountability group with me. Annie and I have been on vacation with them and their wives. They have visited us with their children when they have come to Rabat.

The ten years at VOH have not been easy. We have weathered several financial and personnel crises over the years, but through it all, we have been friends.

I know many of you have visited VOH on one of our bus trips or on your own. Two of the families in the church went up with Tracy and his family the weekend before this happened. They painted a room in the infirmary and worshiped with the community on Sunday. We are grieving what happened.

Last Saturday, as part of the national crackdown on Christians in Morocco, the police came to VOH in the afternoon to ask questions. They went into the homes, looking in drawers and closets and interviewing the children. They left at 3 in the morning and came back on Sunday with more questions and interviews. On Monday they came at 3:30, took the children into the dining hall and the parents and staff into a building across the parking lot. The children and parents were informed the parents and staff were leaving. The parents heard their children crying across the parking lot, “Mama! Papa! Is this true?”

The parents and families and staff had just seven hours to say goodbye to the children and pack. Herman’s wife was in Holland at the time and never had the opportunity to say goodbye to her children. Herman was negotiating with the authorities up to the last minute, trying to forestall this action.

He tried to pack but could not think of what to take. He told me when we talked on Tuesday that his suitcase with filled with garbage, nothing of worth. He left behind his wedding album and many other personal affects. At one point his biological daughter called him and told him to get some papers stored downstairs in the garage. As he went down the steps, his eight children followed him, “Daddy, are you leaving? Are you leaving?”

One of the older children asked, “Why couldn’t I have real parents?”

With the tears and cries of the children ringing in their ears, the bus pulled out and they were taken to the airport at Casablanca, kept under police guard and flown out the next day.

The first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning is the children and how they are handling this separation. When I wake up in the middle of the night I think about the children and their parents. They were abandoned at birth, rescued by parents who have loved them and provided them with a safe, loving home. And now the government that gave permission for these Christians to take in these abandoned babies and encouraged them many times to take in even more than they were able to take – this government has caused these children to be abandoned a second time. This action is a shameful act and we are grieving at the pain that is being experienced.

People responded to my report of what had happened with versions of, “God is in control,” and I replied, “I know this is true with my head, but on an emotional level it seems God has taken a vacation.”

I have had difficulty this week in seeing children playing on the street. I have had difficulty seeing parents walking with their children. I have felt guilty talking with my daughters and grandchildren on webcam. I have felt guilty getting under my covers and sleeping in a comfortable bed. I have felt guilty eating. I have felt guilty watching any TV.

How can I have a normal life when there is so much suffering in the lives of people I love and care for? How can anyone have a normal life in the midst of so much suffering?

Annie led me to the Rich Mullins songs we are listening to this morning and they have encouraged me this week. Hold Me Jesus speaks of my condition and my desperate cry for help.
So hold me Jesus,
’cause I’m shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won’t You be my Prince of Peace

Rich Mullins has ministered to me; let him now minister to you.

Psalm 77

When I received the news from Herman on Monday, I was stunned. I was in shock. I could not believe this was happening. I sent out the RICEmail and other emails to let people know what was happening and finally went to bed. I woke up at 3 and could not sleep. I could not pray other than to cry out for the children and parents.

In the morning I did what I have often told others to do and wrote a psalm expressing my emotions.

What were you doing when the children at VOH were ripped from their parents’ arms? Sleeping on the job? Don’t you care what happens to these children? You are capable of parting the sea and raising the dead – can’t you protect little children?

In fact, the empirical evidence suggests you cannot protect little children. All over the world boys and girls are sold into sex trafficking. Boy and girls are abducted, raped, abused and murdered. So what’s the deal?

We pray that our little son or daughter get over a cold or find a new friend. What a joke! Are your powers so limited you can only lift teensy-weensy weights?

I am so angry I could spit nails. I’m angry at you. I’m angry at the government. [angry at some other things I will not mention now] Who is really in control? Not you, apparently!

This morning as I sit here writing this, the boys and girls of VOH are waking, thinking they might have had a nightmare and then realizing this nightmare is their new reality.

The parents and staff are waking up, if they were able to sleep at all, and wondering how they will ever recover from this hole in their heart.

This is a death experience. Evil has won. Evil has triumphed.

[some expression of creative retaliation]

I know you are there but I do not understand what you are doing. This was within your power to stop and you did not stop it.

Why?

I know these psalms are supposed to bring me to trust and confidence in you but I still have a long way to go.

If you cannot protect these children, then end it now. Call it all to a halt and bring us all to account.

And then I did what I tell people not to do – I opened my Bible and came to Psalm 77. I read just a couple verses and then headed off to pray at AMEP. We talked about the events and then I said I wanted to read this psalm, which I had just started to read.

I was amazed at how well it expressed what I was experiencing. In my psalm I accused God of being on vacation but he was not on vacation when he led me to this psalm.

I cried out to God for help;
I cried out to God to hear me.
2 When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;
at night I stretched out untiring hands
and my soul refused to be comforted.
3 I remembered you, O God, and I groaned;
I mused, and my spirit grew faint.

The psalmist was grieving as I was grieving. I don’t know why he was grieving but I took comfort in knowing that grief has been the experience of people in every generation. What we are grieving is not a unique event.

In the adult Sunday School this past week Paul Miller spoke about helplessness as being a great place to begin when you pray. I certainly felt that this week. I stretched out my untiring hands and my soul refused to be comforted.

About noon on Tuesday Zak, Elliot and I drove up for a meeting in Tangier. On the way we stopped for lunch and I said I would pray for our meal – but I could not. Praying for a meal is not a formality for me. When I thank God for the food I am about to eat, I recognize my dependance on God for everything I need and I could not bring myself to say I trusted God to provide what I need.

That night we were at a church service in Tangier and the pastor asked me to speak about the Village of Hope and pray for them. I told them some stories of the children and broke down crying and when I prayed I cried and ended with saying I could not trust God right now. So the congregation prayed for me.

Throughout the day on Tuesday I talked with Herman. He asked if I would speak to journalists because he could not keep reliving the horror of what happened. We wept together on the phone. We probably talked together five or six times on Tuesday and we repeatedly wept.

As much as I have grieved, I cannot imagine the pain of the parents and their families and the staff who were taken away.

Wednesday and Thursday I was busy with phone calls, skype, emails, interviews.

And then Friday morning, for the first time, I was able to write in my journal. “You are in control – despite the evidence – you are in control. Help me to have faith to wait and see the final outcome.”

If you were not close to VOH and the grief for you has not been strong, there will be another time in your life when the grief will be strong because the suffering will be close to you. And so let me share a few things I think are important when grieving.

First, do not be rushed to get over your grief. It is OK to spend time reliving the events of whatever tragedy you are dealing with. People around you may want to rush you to get past this stage, but do not let them rush you. Take your time. The greater the tragedy, the longer it will take for you to get over it. The closer you are to the tragedy, the longer it will take for you to get over it. Especially if you are a Christian leader, people want you to stand up and give a positive report. “I suffered and doubted but now I am over that and am giving God glory.”

It is more important that you find healing for the hurt you have suffered than that you give a positive report. It is more important that you model authentic living than giving an uplifting report.

Secondly, when you grieve, do not be afraid to express what you are feeling. Do not try to be nice. Do not try to be a “good Christian”. Express what you are feeling. Write it down. Write a psalm. God does not want you to be nice, he wants you to be real and honest.

Last week Tracy talked about this in his children’s sermon. If you are angry, then expressing your anger is what God wants you to do. Expressing your anger is a far better prayer than giving God superficial praise that you do not, deep down, feel.

God has big shoulders, he can take whatever you give him. God knows the pain you are feeling. God can see where you cannot see so he will accept your anger and continue to love you and care for you.

Thirdly, when you experience trauma it seems that God is out of control or absent or uncaring. But this is not true. Despite the evidence, God is in control. God is the all-powerful preexisting creator of the universe who chose to love us and sacrifice himself for us.

At the cross, it seemed that God had failed. The devil thought he had won. To all the world who watched what happened on Calgary, the ministry of Jesus had failed. It had been a great three years but now it was all over.

But never count God out. Three days later the bonds of death were broken and Jesus rose from the dead. From the ashes he rose up in power to his exalted position.

As Rich Mullins wrote in the song we will be singing,
Where are the nails
that pierced His hands
Well the nails have turned to rust
But behold the Man
He is risen
And He reigns
In the hearts of the children
Rising up in His name
Where are the thorns that drew His blood
Well the thorns have turned to dust
But not so the love
He has given
No it remains
In the hearts of the children
Who will love while the nations rage

In the midst of grief all we can see are the nails and the thorns but God, from his heavenly perspective sees beyond the suffering to the coming triumph.

And fourthly, I believe, from God’s eternal perspective, the suffering we experience on earth does not seem as bad as it does to us – just as the joys we experience do not seem as great as we think they are.

We are locked into a temporal view of events, good, bad and ugly. We see only this life with what it can offer. We have eighty or so years and look forward to the reward of a nice retirement with children and grandchildren and a nice home and exciting vacations and think that is the goal. When any of these do not happen or are taken away from us, we are crushed.

We strain to have a heavenly perspective but what we most clearly see is this world with all its limitations.

A young child suffers a disease and dies and we ask why. The truth is that from our perspective we cannot understand why. Even if God were to tell us why, we would be unable to understand. The limitations of our minds and even imaginations do not allow us to understand all that happens.

So over and over again we have to submit and come to a point where we say, “God, I do not understand but I believe – despite the evidence I believe.”

The writer of psalm 77 expressed his honest emotions:
I cried out to God for help;
I cried out to God to hear me.

My heart mused and my spirit inquired:
7 “Will the Lord reject forever?
Will he never show his favor again?
8 Has his unfailing love vanished forever?
Has his promise failed for all time?
9 Has God forgotten to be merciful?
Has he in anger withheld his compassion?”

And then he chose to remember all that God has done.
Then I thought, “To this I will appeal:
the years of the right hand of the Most High.”
11 I will remember the deeds of the Lord;
yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
12 I will meditate on all your works
and consider all your mighty deeds.
13 Your ways, O God, are holy.
What god is so great as our God?
14 You are the God who performs miracles;
you display your power among the peoples.
15 With your mighty arm you redeemed your people,
the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.

And so this morning, in the midst of our grief we choose to remember. We celebrate each Sunday Jesus who gave up the privileges of heaven to be born a man, to live among us, to die for us so we could be forgiven, to break the chains of death so we could have hope in the midst of defeat.

We are going to practice what I am calling defiant praise. Despite the hurt and pain we are going to give praise to God and declare the truths of our faith.

A logical song for us to sing today would be Blessed Be Your Name with the chorus
You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord blessed be your name.

I’m not quite ready to sing that song. Perhaps we will sing it next week. But I will defy my hurt and sing praise to God.

Listen to the words from Isaiah 61:1-3 that Jesus quoted when he announced his ministry.
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.

Those who mourn and grieve will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. This is the promise for the parents, families and staff of the Village of Hope. This is the promise for the 33 children of VOH. This is the promise for all of God’s children who grieve.