Speaking about light...

I've spent the better part of the last month preparing for two main speaking gigs: one for the Global Village Club at my old highschool, and the other giving a service at my home church. And last week, I presented both! I'm always amused at how nervous I get beforehand - but during the actual presentation, I love it - I thoroughly enjoy sharing stories and experiences. Since I can't share everything with many of you in person, I figure the next best thing is the internet - so if you'd like a taste of what I spoke about, here is my sermon - "Light in the Darkness."
-----------------------------------------------------
I am thrilled to have another chance to share some more stories and experiences I've had during the last year as a missionary. I spent the majority of the last year in South Africa, as well as one month in Brazil. I saw and experienced things I never dreamed I'd have the opportunity to see or experience. I heard a lot of sad stories. I met a lot of broken people. I experienced what I like to call "darkness" - but more importantly, I experienced shining lights in the darkness. I have lots of stories to tell you - and I'm going to kick things off with a fun one.

For the majority of my time away I was a staff member on a school with Youth With A Mission in Jeffreys Bay, South Africa. During the first three months of the school I worked very hard at planning an outreach around South Africa and to Brazil that I was to co-lead. Finally the time came to go on the outreach, and we were off to a good start. The first city we traveled to was called Port Elizabeth, located just an hour outside of Jeffreys Bay. We'd been there for about three days when we were on our way to a private all boys' school to run their Christian Education classes for the day. As we approached a major intersection in the middle of the city, we realized that we were having some car - or, to be specific, van - troubles. I thought, "Where's Sandy when you need him??" However, our problem wasn't too complex - we soon realized that we were completely out of gas. To the best of our ability, we steered to the middle of the road where a small island separated us from the oncoming traffic. We were in a hurry to pick up our other team members and get to the school on time - which wasn't looking promising - so there was no time to lose! I jumped out of the car, ran up the road to the intersection, spotted a gas station in the distance, and sprinted there as fast as my little legs would carry me. When I arrived I purchased a large bottle of water, cringed as I dumped its contents onto the ground, and handed it to the gas attendant. He fished another bottle out of the garbage can and filled them up for me. I thanked him, paid, and ran back to the van. We poured in the gas, started 'er up, and off we went - straight to the same gas station! Unfortunately we were a little late to the school - but in situations like that you just have to shrug your shoulders, because after all - "it's Africa" and everyone runs on their own schedule.

As I mentioned, part of my responsibility as a Youth With A Mission staff member was to organize and lead an outreach. Our team was sent to Brazil, where we spent a month on a beautiful island in the South called Florianopolis. As our time in Brazil came to an end we traveled north to Sao Paulo, home to more than 17 million Brazilians. We spent two days with a friend who had connections to different ministries we could get involved in. The first place we went to was called "CENA," a drop-in centre for prostitutes, drug addicts and street kids. On arrival we were taken on a tour and given some information about the facility. Next we were informed that we'd be going into what was known as the "prostitute park", where literally every non-tourist woman was looking for "work." The park itself was stunning - the trees and vines were lush and green. But the spirit that hung in the air was one of heaviness. Looking around, I felt despair, depression, and hopelessness. An intoxicated man approached me and tried to converse with me in Portuguese, which I understood very little of. I waited for my Brazilian friends to translate, but they didn't. I guess they thought it was for the best. I felt violated and offended without knowing why. After he'd left, I just stood on the path and prayed - but it seemed pointless. What I witnessed around me was simply reality, and I hated it. At one point a prostitute approached one of the guys in our group and began speaking to him in German. She told him a bit of her story - though Brazilian, she'd been married and living in Germany for seven or eight years, when her husband had betrayed her and took everything from her. Now she was back in Brazil with nothing and resorted to prostitution. Whether her story was true or not, it's probably not too far fetched. Every woman has a story.

I was glad to leave, but as we walked to our next destination, I was horrified to see so many adults and children making their beds on the street. I felt like such a hypocrite as I walked by them, not knowing what to say or feel or do. What CAN you do?, I thought. It's not like you can just scoop them up and take them home with you. Or buy bread for every single person you see. It was overwhelming. And yet Isaiah told us what it really means to worship God: "Share your food with everyone who is hungry; share your home with the poor and homeless."

It started to rain as we walked back to the drop-in centre. From there we said goodbye to the staff and headed to the subway station, where I noticed the name of our stop - "Luz," which in Portuguese means "Light." In my head, I thought, "What light? Where is the light?" Because all I experienced was darkness.

On the front of CENA's brochure there is a scripture found in Isaiah 9:2 -> Those who walked in the dark have seen a bright light. And it shines upon everyone who lives in the land of darkest shadows. I am convinced that CENA is located in the land of darkest shadows. But the work they do is making an impact. When we walked up the stairs to the second floor of the facility, a small fourteen or fifteen year old girl sat in a slumped position on the couch. One of the volunteers told us that she'd just come off the street and they were trying to find a drug re-hab program for her to be in - it was hard, though, because most of them were full. We asked if we could pray for the girl who looked completely broken. Three of us knelt by her feet and sat down beside her as we prayed. In our poor Portuguese we told her she was beautiful and God loved her. We finished, said goodbye and went to the next room. Only moments later, we were informed that a place had opened up for the girl and she'd go there soon. We cheered and thanked God for His quick response. Though we only had a short time with CENA, it was clear that they were a bright and shining light in the land of darkest shadows.

South Africa has the highest population of HIV/AIDS infected people in the world. It is an extremely dark situation. Thousands of people suffer daily from a completely preventable disease. Babies and children are left parentless; adults are left jobless, homeless. I had numerous encounters with people infected with HIV/AIDS during my time away. One such encounter happened one day when I went house-visiting with a lady named Auntie Matilda. We visited the homes of four different woman with four different stories, but the same disease. You can't always look at a person and know they're HIV positive. Many infected people look absolutely normal, even healthy. But the women we visited that day were not among those. These women were bedridden. We spent time praying for, chatting with and singing to these women. We didn't chat with the the third woman, however. We didn't talk with her because she couldn't speak. In fact, she was next to unconscious. She lay very still on the bed under the covers. her eyes were lifeless. They were open, staring at nothing, focusing on nothing. She did not respond to Matilda - whether she spoke to her, touched her, wiped her mouth with a cloth, or put another pillow under her head. This woman, named Gladys, was visibly having trouble breathing, and her whole upper body heaved every time she inhaled. We prayed and sang for Gladys, then sat down with the other ladies in the house. Matilda later walked back to where Gladys lay and asked us to pray for her again. As we prayed, Gladys made a loud squealing noise - the first sound I’d heard from her. It seemed like she was getting worse. My friend Keiko prayed for complete healing - that which can only be found in heaven. Where there is no more pain, no more AIDS, no more suffering of any kind. Keiko and I sat down while Matilda and another lady stood over Gladys. Then Gladys died. They closed her eyelids and her mouth and pulled the blanket over her head. Gladys’ children came home from school. I don’t think anyone told them what happened. One of the ladies called the police, and they came within ten minutes. One of the policemen talked casually with me and Keiko, asking us where we were from, making jokes about Japanese cars and Canadian weather. The whole atmosphere in the house was so casual. I saw no tears. I sat there thinking, “Doesn’t anyone realize that this woman just DIED?” As I processed the day's events, I was overwhelmed, saddened, shocked. I walked around in a bit of a daze. Around me, life went on. Friends made jokes, families ate their supper, men walked home after work. I felt like I walked with a dark cloud over my head.

HIV/AIDS is a huge problem in Jeffreys Bay. But Auntie Matilda is a powerful light shining through this darkness. She visits countless people every day. She knows each patient by name, and during her visits she prays for them, reads them scripture, massages them, dresses their wounds, brings them food, cleans them, talks to them, and makes sure they’re looked after by their families. As we walked that day she said, "the patients are my children, because I love them. They all call me 'mama'. She is paid 600 rand/month, which amounts to approximately seventy-five Canadian dollars. But I'm confident that Matilda would continue her house visits regardless of how much she was paid. Matilda loves her patients with the love of Christ. She is an inspiring woman. She can't walk anywhere without being stopped on the street by a friend who shouts "MATILDA!" She knows and loves everyone, and everyone knows and loves her. Matilda shines. She is a bright and shining light in Jeffreys Bay.

I spent January and February in Durban, the city with the largest Indian population in South Africa. During my time there I met a 50 year old New Yorker named Petra who held church services, Bible studies and meals for prostitutes, the homeless and people needing a little extra help. Keiko and I were recruited to lead the music at her ministry every Tuesday and Thursday, and we loved it. It was at this ministry that I met and befriended an Indian woman named Sheloashly. A mother of four, she was always pleasant, friendly, and seemed "normal." She didn't seem like a woman in need of help. I always wondered about her situation and why she was such a faithful attendant. One day she took my hand and said, "I need to talk to you." We found a private room where we could sit, and she began to explain her problem. She told me that her eldest child and husband didn't get along. That they were always screaming and shouting at each other because the husband, who was not the birth-father of this particular child, made up ridiculous rules for her. This 15 year old girl was to be in bed by 7, wasn't allowed to listen to music, watch tv, etc etc. Sheloashly tried speaking to her husband about it but he wouldn't change his mind. She told me, "Yesterday I almost left. I almost took my daughter and left. But I couldn't. I couldn't leave the other children there. And besides, where would we go? I have no relatives. I have no money." Again, I was speechless. I just shook my head. Then she confided in me - "My husband is an alcoholic. His parents are alcoholics. They see that there is no bread in the house, yet they supply their son with alcohol. My husband works every day, and most of his income goes towards our daily rent. The rest is for school fees and bus fares. We hardly have enough left over for food." What kind of advice do you give a trapped woman? I could only listen to her and pray for her. And I left that day with a heaviness in my heart. It just wasn't fair - and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. It was a dark, seemingly hopeless situation.

I have hope for Sheloashly's situation because I know she has access to help. Petra is the kind of woman who will do whatever it takes to help someone come out of an unjust situation. Petra RADIATES. She treats everyone she meets equally, and with love. She treats the prostitutes with dignity and respect - like any human being should be treated. We asked her so many questions about the commercial sex industry in Durban, which she was well aware of. When we asked her about pimps, and she said, "oh, the pimps? They're my friends!" She spends every Monday and Friday night on the street, walking around and looking for girls she can speak to and offer help to. At her church services she provides food, clothing, and an ear to listen. Petra is currently opening a rehabilitation centre for the prostitutes - a safe place for them to live, learn practical skills and study the Bible before they are re-integrated into society. She is making a significant difference in that part of the city - she is another prime example of how light is stronger than darkness.

All that to say that this world can seem pretty dark. The darkness almost seems to consume us. But I want you for a moment to imagine a room. It's pitch black. There are no windows, no outside light creeping in under the door. Suddenly, a match is lit. It's a tiny flame - but it gives a surprising amount of light. And when we see that flame, we focus on it. We're drawn to it. For where the tiniest light exists, darkness must flee. John says in his first chapter: "In Him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it."

It's the same way with our world. Just look at the paper or turn on the radio. Most of the news we hear makes us sad, discouraged, even hopeless. But what we need to focus on is the light. We need to be drawn to it. Because literally and metaphorically, the darkness cannot overcome the light.

Shining just has this ring to it - it sounds nice, happy, safe. But shining can be a very uncomfortable, potentially dangerous thing to do. It doesn't always turn out the way we want it to. When my team was doing an outreach in Brazil, we met and befriended a man and woman named Douglas and Kelly. I met Kelly for the first time when she approached me on the street one morning, asking for money for the bus. A teammate and I gave her some money, an apple, and invited her back for supper with the very little Portuguese we knew. Kelly and her brother Douglas came for supper the next evening, and we tried our best to entertain them, show them pictures, sing for them, and learn about their lives. They came to church with us that night and we felt happy that we were building relationships and sharing Christ's love with these people. They came for supper again the next night, but this time we were busy and told them we'd meet them at church. We met them there and introduced them to friends, making sure they were comfortable and having a good time. At some point during the evening, Douglas disappeared. It didn't concern us too much because the same thing had happened the night before - he'd just gone to get a snack. But Douglas didn't return this time. The evening came to a close and my team headed home. Upon arrival I was the first to go upstairs to the girls' bedroom. As I opened the door, my eyes widened and jaw dropped. It looked like a tornado had swept through the place. The drawers were open, things were strewn all over the bed and floor, and my immediate thought was, "not again." I checked the drawer where I kept my camera, and sure enough, it was gone. The other two girls who stayed in the room had their laptops and cell phones stolen. We never saw Kelly and Douglas again.

It was an experience that each of us took something from. We grew closer together as a team and closer to God as a result.

The Bible says in 1 Peter 4:9 -> "welcome people into your home and don't grumble about it." Note that it doesn't say "welcome friends into your home but beware of strangers" or "invite people into your home... unless you think they might rob you." In fact, in Hebrews 13, we are told "welcome strangers into your home. By doing this, some people have welcomed angels as guests, without even knowing it." It seems unconfortable, and especially our society, it seems abnormal - crazy, even! But I know I speak for the rest of my outreach team when I say that I do not regret loving Kelly and Douglas. My teammate Gabi once said that she would do it all over again to experience that closeness with God and to learn the kind of lessons she learned through the whole ordeal.

We are told explicitly that we will face trials as followers of Christ - and not only that, but that it's a good thing! James 1:2 says "My friends, be glad, even if you have a lot of trouble. You know that you learn to endure by having your faith tested. But you must learn to endure everything, so that you will be completely mature and not lacking in anything."

Shining can be risky. But it is a risk worth taking and a risk we are called to take.

Shining can take many forms. It can mean spreading the love of God halfway across the world. It can mean volunteering at the food bank. It can mean actively seeking out people in need of help. But I think that some of the most difficult and most beneficial shining we can do is to be aware of how we treat people every day. How we treat our family members. How we treat our neighbours - yes, even the one you can't stand. How we treat the people we pass on the street. The Bible says to make sure that no one misses out on God's wonderful kindness. Let's make the most of every opportunity we have!

We are called to be the light of the world - and if this world seems like a dark place, it's because our lights are not shining brightly enough.

In our world, and especially during these times, it is crucial to find and focus on the light in the darkness. But even more importantly, we need to BE the light in the darkness. What will you do to make your light shine?