Lost Boy No More

I just finished reading the book "Lost Boy No More," an amazing true story of the survival and salvation of Abraham Nhial, one of approximately 35,000 young boys who escaped the civil war and genocide in Sudan. While heart-breaking in many parts, this book was a stark reminder of how comfortably we sit here at home while other Christians continue to suffer and die for their faith and/or race. Often it takes putting a "face" to a story for it to really become importand to us, and to my shame I know that I have overlooked stories like these for years simply because they did not impact me. Now that we have Owen and he shares the heritage of Sudan, and we believe specifically of the Dinka tribe, I realize that he could easily have been one of those orphaned, maimed, or starving children if God had not sovereignly intervened in his birthmother's life by bringing her to the United States to escape persecution.

Abraham Nhial is a member of an organization called the Aid Sudan Foundation which is currently organizing missions trips for groups of Lost Boys and American Christians to spend two weeks in Sudan for the purpose of sharing the gospel and providing basic needs to the people in southern Sudan. Their website is http://www.aidsudan.org and I've borrowed the following story from their website. It is well worth reading!

Going Home

We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

C.S. Lewis’ famous quote from his war-time sermon The Weight of Glory has always conjured up images to me of, well, vacations by the sea – a nice cottage somewhere on the shores of Martha’s Vineyard or along the bay on the Cape. Why settle for hot Houston in the summer when vacations are waiting with cool sea breezes and long walks along the shore, fires at night and hot coffee in the morning.

But perhaps Lewis, and more importantly the Lord, had something else in mind in The Weight of Glory. This past summer approximately 18 Americans boarded a plane on June 17 to take their summer vacation. But where they were headed was far from any cottage, or any sea, for that matter. They headed into Sudan, a country where, over the past ten years, millions of people were massacred in one of the largest genocides in the history of the world. “A summer vacation?” you might ask. “In Sudan? Where the probability of seeing someone die in your arms from starvation is greater than the likelihood of sipping a good cup of coffee?” Yes, for unlike ordinary vacations, this one consisted of the weight of glory. For along with the 18 Americans traveled 6 Sudanese “Lost Boys.” And for the first time in years, these 6 men stepped foot into the country from which they fled as boys.

Isaac Mabior saw two of his brothers for the first time in over ten years – with one small detail – the brothers walked a distance of thirty miles one way to see Isaac. “My father died in 1988,” shared Isaac, “but it was such a great homecoming to see my two brothers.” After being in Sudan for ten days and seeing the needs firsthand, Isaac already has plans to return again in December. Isaac explained, “What really moved me were the children in the orphanage in the village where we stayed. When I looked in their faces, I saw my own. The two years it will take to finish school now seems like ten years. I feel like I need to go back immediately to help people. Right now, the children have to walk 45 minutes to an hour in order to get clean drinking water. I want to raise the funds to drill them a well in the compound where they live.”

Another Sudanese, Phillip Panek, traveled six hours by bike to reunite with family members he had not seen since 1989. “My father knew I was coming,” said Phillip, “but when it took me longer to get there than was expected, he began to walk. And he walked for two days before we met in the market place of a nearby village. But the best part of my visit was surprising my grandmother. Because communication is so difficult, she did not even know that I was alive. So when I walked into her village and she saw me, she started crying. At the end of the three days, she did not want me to leave. Three days wasn’t enough. My dad is not a Christian, and neither is my grandmother. I didn’t have enough time with them to really talk to them about Christ. So I want to go back to show the people of Sudan the Good Way – the way of Jesus.”

And that, my fellow Americans, is a vacation. It is a vacation, though many miles from any comfy cottages by the sea, far from any comforts we are used to here, rich with the weight of glory, the love of God, and dividends will last for an eternity. Anyone else up for a vacation by the sea? Making literal mud pies in a land rich with God’s glory beats the heat of Houston anytime.