(written beg of May)
Last Sunday morning, more
than 20 Gumuz women came to my door after church having heard that my
grandma died. A week previously I had been at 2 funerals for young
children. As I sat with them and wept, I heard my own words of
encouragement repeated back to me. “Do not cry. Remember the hope
that we have because of Jesus. We do not need to be afraid of death.
Your grandma is in heaven. You will see her again.”
Then one by
one, starting with an elderly woman named Yake, they pressed money
into my hand, embraced me and wept openly for me. It was beautiful
and painful, humbling and healing. Yake was heart broken. My grandma
was the one who had sent money for milk powder for her orphaned
grandson. His life had been saved.
As we cried together and
then drank coffee, I boasted of the heritage that I have because my
grandparents repented of sin, and followed Christ. These Gumuz first
generation Christians have a hard road as they turn from cultural
evils. Yet as they do this, the next generation will not have the
same struggle. They can make a difference for generations to come
just as my grandparents did so long ago.
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