Tumult & Blessings

Dear friends,

It has been a while since I last wrote. With some tumult in my own life and situation here in Lebanon, communicating to you what was going on seemed impossible – often I barely knew what was going on!

By now many of you know that I ended my term at the World Student Christian Federation (WSCF) in May, but returned to Lebanon to complete my appointed term independently. At the time, I was returning with no internship, no mandate and no certainty – all I had was determination and prayers.

My determination was that the relationships I had here were important, valuable and worth cultivating – likely in ways that I still don’t realize. I feel even more strongly now that these friendships will impact me for my life, and have revolutionized how I see my place in the world. Solidarity has taken on a renewed urgency. Whatever happens to the people of the Middle East affects me almost as if it were my own family. I find myself raging and mourning and celebrating with the remarkable people around me here.

The prayers I returned with were not only my own. I have felt strongly the concern and support of a network of sisters and brothers broader than I had imagined. At times when I felt alone, I discovered later that particular people were praying for my particular situation at that particular time, and that makes a huge difference.

At times when my heart was heavy – during the Christian Peacemaker Teams hostage crisis, for instance, or during the recent Israeli murder of a picnicking family in Gaza – it has been assuring that when I feel too weak to pray that there are others out there holding these situations in our Creator’s love.

So you are probably wondering what I am doing these days. After wrapping up at WSCF, I spent time just visiting with friends and families here, waiting for the right doors to open for work. I thought, for some time, I might have to return to Canada without having found a calling here.

The first door to open was being offered a room in the ancient part of Saida, in the south, where the streets are mostly underground and little mosques and churches (one 1900 years old) are hidden in surprising corners and alleys.

As for work, the doors did open, as they often do when you wait. Within a week, I was offered a summer contract with a British organization, Medical Aid for Palestinians (MAP), which needed a writer and photographer to interview Palestinians in Lebanon about their dreams, hopes and barriers. The goal is to strengthen small loans programs for impoverished Palestinians, known as micro-credit; the vision is economic self-empowerment.

I started this work two weeks ago, conducting intensive interviews in several refugee camps – Dbayyeh, an all-Christian camp (yes, there are Christian Palestinians), and today, Mie w Mie. My time in these struggling areas has ranged from absolutely heart-breaking to enthralling and inspiring. In the midst of often horrifying living conditions, polluted water, no economic future, people are surviving to their best abilities and seeking opportunities in small ways. It puts my own hang-ups in greater perspective!

After work one day, I visited an elderly Palestinian man whose wife is so sick she cannot even move and her feet have become atrophied and infected. Palestinians (and most poor Lebanese) are barred from hospitals here. His deep care for her – never leaving her side, doting over her day and night – moved me to tears. When a local medical team discovered her desperate condition, I helped them administer first aid – just little things like supporting her neck, moving her into a chair, holding her hand to ease the pain, using ice to renew circulation.

My prayer now is that I can, in small ways, support people here with my presence, and that somehow on my return to Canada I can help renew some circulation where our society is stuck in harmful ways. I am beginning to see that our greatest atrophy, and my own, may not be injustice but indifference.

I used to flick through the news to avoid watching images like Huda, that poor girl in Gaza as she collapsed onto her father’s corpse – screaming for him – but now she is close enough to affect my every thought. My heart yearns for her – and all children – to have a future free from oppression.

When we open ourselves to the suffering we may have created or collectively support (as with military and free trade support for Israel), it has a heart-breaking, despair-causing effect. We may become paralyzed with guilt, or just apathetic. But as Derrick Jensen writes, facing such heart-break straight-on brings us through to the “other side of darkness.” Only then can we become more clear-minded about what we need to do, what our priorities are, and where we are wasting our energy.

I don’t know the answers yet. But I still feel called to ask the questions of myself, and to remember that what matters is not what place I am in, but how I am following God’s call as fearlessly as I can.

I’m excited for the next three months here. I cannot wait to see you all as well, and look forward to sharing our stories and talking about what’s ahead. Please continue to pray for peace here, and in particular for:

Huda Ghalia, 10, who lost her entire family when an Israeli shell hit a beach picnic in Gaza – may she and all children find solace, support and love in the midst of great oppression.

Other conflict areas, outside the Middle East media frenzy, especially the Philippines, Sri Lanka and Sudan – may there be lasting peace; may the powerful nations become peacemakers and not war-provokers.

For my next three months here – if it God’s will, may I be touched deeply by those I encounter, and be graced to bring these encounters home to our churches and communities; as I go into more dangerous areas, may I be protected from all harm to do the work I am called to.

Thank you for your prayers and support,

In the name of Christ,

David