Frightened and alone, Claire cried out to God from her dark prison cell. She was not a Christian, but she realized if there was a God, He was the only one who knew where she was. To her surprise, she heard a voice answer, “I love you. You will survive prison, and you will serve Me.”
Claire knew that the voice was God’s, but she was not sure if she could trust Him. The voice was a male one, and she had suffered so much already from males in her life. Would a God who spoke with the voice of a man really help her?
After two months in prison, Claire was finally released, only to face an even greater danger. In 1994, Rwanda’s simmering volcano of ethnic tension erupted. Waves of extremist Hutu mobs, supported by members of the military and government, poured into the streets, intent on destroying the Tutsi people. In just one hundred days, machete and rifle-wielding extremist Hutus butchered as many as one million Tutsis and moderate Hutus, often executing them in their homes or on the street.
Every Rwandan was required to carry an identification card listing his or her ethnicity; that spring and summer, a card naming someone a Tutsi was a virtual death warrant. Neighbors killed neighbors. People fled to churches, only to have frightened pastors turn them over to the killers.
Trapped in the middle of one of the worst humanitarian crises of the twentieth century, Claire lived in fear, but God miraculously kept His promise to protect her. At one point, she was in a group of Tutsis attacked by a Hutu mob with machetes. Everyone around her was hacked to death before her eyes, but for some inexplicable reason one of the attackers—a man Claire had never met and would never see again—stopped the others from killing her. Another time, Claire was in an area attacked by militia forces with grenades. She was wounded and scarred, but she again survived.
When the genocide finally ended, Claire was amazed to be alive. She knew that the voice she had heard in prison was that of the true God, and unlike the human males in her life, He had kept His promise to protect and care for her. Claire became a Christian and discovered the unconditional love she had been longing for all her life.
God immediately began to speak to Claire’s heart. As she watched peace return to her country and the people begin to rebuild their lives, Claire felt God telling her to let go of her wounds. In order to heal, Claire needed to forgive her enemies: first her father, then the teacher, and then the men who came so close to killing her. Finally, God called her to do the hardest thing of all: forgive the boy who had left her pregnant and alone almost a decade before.
Claire struggled most with the idea of forgiving the father of her child. For years, she had held a grudge and dreamed of revenge—what she would say if she met him on the street, what she would do to him if she had the chance. But God continued to bring her messages about forgiveness, and Claire finally found peace. Her desire for revenge disappeared, and for the first time in her life she felt freed from her own emotions.
Not long after that, she saw her child’s father on the street. Claire approached him, and instead of being angry and bitter, she told him she forgave him for abandoning her. She explained how God had protected her and her son (who had been safe in Burundi during the massacres). Claire’s forgiveness touched her old boyfriend’s heart, and because of her testimony, he too became a Christian.
After witnessing the power of forgiveness in her life and others, Claire dedicated her life to serving God. She began to work for Youth With a Mission (YWAM) in Rwanda, showing others the power of Christ’s love and His ability to transform individuals. She discovered her calling in the words of Paul in 2 Corinthians 1:3-4: “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”
Today, Claire works with people suffering from or living with AIDS, which is ravaging Africa. She considers it a delight to comfort and serve people, young and old, at the end of their lives. She thanks God that the cycle of anger and revenge has been broken in her life, and that the reconciliation she experienced is being used by God to help others.
All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation.
(2 Corinthians
5:18-19
)
joy churchill
Silent No More
J
oy’s father was a pastor. Her mother’s father was a pastor. Her mother’s only brother was a pastor. Her father’s father was a pastor. Even Joy’s father’s
mother
was a pastor. In short, she grew up surrounded by courageous saints proclaiming the gospel.
Few words escaped Joy’s lips, however. She was terribly shy and convinced that no one liked her. If the gospel was to go forth, it would have to go through someone else. Joy loved Jesus and wanted to serve Him, but she spent most of her days trying to remain unnoticed. On the best days, she was tongue-tied.
College and dorm life brought out the worst of Joy’s insecurities. On the weekends, she hid from the crowd by studying in the lounge. Imagine her surprise when she was approached by a nice guy named Frank. One evening he plopped down next to her, leaned over, and kissed her. Joy was stunned but also pleased. She actually felt desirable and off her guard when she was with him.
The next day Frank invited Joy to his room to study, and she agreed. They did study . . . for a while. Then they touched, and Frank held her and kissed her. He gave Joy all she had been longing for: attention, affection, and acceptance. For just a moment it all seemed right. But the moment tilted and lurched. Frank moved much faster than Joy wanted. This was no time to remain silent. She pushed away from Frank, saying, “No.”
When Frank ignored her protest, she thought,
Didn’t I say it forcefully enough?
She tried to resist, make him stop, but he was much stronger, and her words were not enough. The world around her twisted and distorted. Within the space of a few minutes, Frank had taken everything.
After it was over, Joy found herself curled up alone at the back entrance of the dorm, shaking uncontrollably. A tornado of feelings ripped through her.
I should have yelled out,
she thought.
It’s my fault.
As the cold from the concrete steps seeped up through Joy’s body, the Deceiver crept out to infiltrate and poison her mind. She had survived physical rape; now the devil intended to destroy the rest of her life. He whispered to her, “You’re dirty and worthless. You’re stained and rejected. You’re weak and pathetic.”
As the days passed, the lies drove deep into Joy’s soul and began to grow out of control. She couldn’t get things straight in her head. She began to hear all the accusations in first person:
I am dirty and worthless. . . . I am weak and pathetic.
Angry and ashamed for not being pure enough, strong enough, verbal enough, Joy began making choices based on the lies she now believed to be true. She would never trust again. She would regain control. She found that if she acted a certain way, there were lots of boys interested in her, and one by one, she began to give herself to them. Each time, Joy found a moment of acceptance. When she said yes, she felt a few minutes of control. But Joy knew she’d left a piece of herself with each guy. Each time there seemed to be less of her to give. And the part that remained she hated with a passion.
It was a vicious circle. The more Joy lived the lies, the more she confirmed them, and the more she believed the lies, the more she lived them.
One Sunday Joy woke up in a strange apartment. She didn’t know where she was or whom she’d been with—if anyone. Joy couldn’t even find her belongings. The next night she begged God to take her life. She couldn’t continue her current life but wasn’t even strong enough to leave it. But God spoke to her heart and gently led her a different way.
The next morning, Joy withdrew from school, determined to leave the memory of the woman she had become far behind. She began attending church regularly and moved into a house with committed Christian girls. But no matter where she went, she found herself entrenched in the same thought patterns. The more Joy involved herself with godly men and women, the more self-hate grew in her. Her autopilot was stuck on defensive, making others her judge and jury. Her childhood of quiet shyness couldn’t touch the alienation she knew.
Graciously, God nudged Joy toward a new home among a group of Christians who knew how to live honestly with their pasts and the present. On one hand she felt refreshed, but on the other she was resistant to the free and forgiven lives they were living. That didn’t work with her plan. She wanted to punish herself rather than let Christ set her free. Her anger brewed.
But God still had His plan for Joy. He began to speak to her in many ways, but especially through the life of a friend—a Rollerblading buddy named Connie. Each week, as the sidewalks rolled under their feet, Connie talked about what was going on in her life. Connie spoke of a God with unfailing, unending love. A God of infinite compassion, but also a God of unbridled passion. His love and grace were neither forced nor reluctant; they flowed freely from His being into Connie . . . and Joy. This God took every lash of punishment; each drop of His blood He’d shed for all of Connie’s sins . . . and Joy’s.
This was the truth that would ultimately set Joy free. This truth said Joy was made pure and holy by His blood and that His perfect Spirit dwelled in her—something no man could ever take away, no matter what he did to her body. This truth said she could never add to or earn what He had done by punishing herself. This truth said Joy was not rejected—she was accepted, fully adopted as a daughter of the King.
But His message didn’t stop there. No longer did Joy have to believe she was disqualified from serving Him. She didn’t have to be silent or stay on the shelf like a broken toy so she wouldn’t be a disgrace or do further damage to the kingdom. Now she was free to do some damage
for
the Kingdom!
As Joy finally realized she was forgiven, a new passion began to burn in her life. A flame of desire grew hotter and hotter to share His message of grace, love, and forgiveness with others. Joy would remain tongue-tied no longer.
Often at night before Joy goes to sleep, she imagines the roars of praise as God’s children worship before His throne. Yet in the midst of the celebration, God hears a silence. Looking over the crowd, He sees an empty space, room for just one more, one more life that needs to hear of His love.
For her, Joy will not stay silent.
For Zion’s sake I will not keep silent,
for Jerusalem’s sake I will not remain quiet,
till her righteousness shines out like the dawn,
her salvation like a blazing torch.
(Isaiah
62:1
)
WEEK SEVEN JOURNAL
• What lies from Satan might be leading you into sinful and destructive choices?
• Do you feel in any way that your past has disqualified you to serve Jesus in the future?
• Does the Bible say that is true or a lie?
• How did you meet Jesus Christ?
• What Bible verse or passage of Scripture has been most meaningful to you this week? Why?
jaime
Desert Rainbow
E
ight years ago, God lit a fire for missions in Jaime’s soul. How often does that happen to twelve-year-old kids? Jaime clearly remembers that day. She was sitting in the back of the church pretending not to hear the guest speaker’s call to “go into all nations, preaching and teaching.” But God didn’t allow those words to pass by. Jaime’s ears burned with the speaker’s exhortation, and her heart desired to follow it.
It sounds simple, but Jaime just began to follow God’s call. Every summer from then on, God opened the doors for her to go on short-term mission trips to Ecuador, Kenya, and many other countries. With each trip, Jaime’s spirit warmed even more for the needs of people in other nations.
After high school, Jaime wanted a longer-term perspective on her missions work. She wanted to be sure her desire wasn’t based on the thrill of high-energy, short-term, in-and-out experiences. So she boarded a plane to serve a missionary family in Lebanon as nanny for a year. She was going to see and learn from missionaries in the field and immerse herself gently in another culture while living with Americans.
Six months into her year, however, due to other circumstances, Jaime had moved to Jordan, was living on her own, eating strange things (such as shish kebabs dipped in plain yogurt), and trying her best to memorize and form foreign sounds with her tongue. Jaime had enrolled in a two-year Arabic program designed to prepare missionaries for the field. She was gaining another perspective, all right.
Even though God graciously opened door after door for Jaime on that journey, she walked through each of them literally shaking in her boots. After all, she was just eighteen years old, fresh out of high school, and used to being snugly rooted in her church and life. She had abandoned everything she found comforting to follow God into a strange land. E-mail and snail mail were still available to keep her connected to home, but it wasn’t the same as living there.
When Jaime had gone to Lebanon, the transition was difficult, but she had an amazing Christian family there who felt familiar and comfortable. Jordan, however, was a completely different experience. Jaime felt utterly alone. For the first year, homesickness threw her into dark hours of depression. Her journals reflect how God carried her through.
Journal Entry: 8.30.01
God, I go to bed crying and wake up every morning the same. I desperately need you. You are my only hope. And because of your love, I know it will be okay. This past year has been filled with ups and downs and I don’t even know what I am doing. Or why you’ve chosen me. Or if you even have. . . .