I had a Miranda July moment yesterday, when I wanted to
swear off everything—I mean, EVERYTHING.
My frustrations had been building all day, and they
culminated with me being barely able to control my fisted hand and heavy, sob-filled
breathing while driving home from tutoring.
On a personal level, I felt stuck in my unemployment,
without a renewed teaching license, destined to sit at home each day and dwell
on my failures as a teacher.
Also, my mind had been stewing on the current situation in
South Sudan, thinking about the futility of peace agreements, the futility of
any sort of aid work, when the country only continues to break down into chaos,
being both unwilling and unequipped to help itself.
The major blow came in the afternoon when I heard the news
about Sirius, the team dog. Last
year, our team was excited at the thought of having a black lab as a devoted
member of the team. John purchased
one in Uganda, with the hopes of using it to guard our compound, play with us
during down time, accompany us in our work, and encourage us with love after a
hard day. Sadly, Sirius had a consistently
stubborn, bad streak in him—along with a dislike for the local people. Our whole team had struggled to keep
the bad-mannered dog under control since day one. Once our team left for the states, he was entrusted into the
care of our Sudanese friend Rooney.
Unfortunately, Sirius had only been acting worse in recent days, breaking
through his small cage and chasing people, even hurting them, on a regular
basis. At this point, there was
nowhere else for him to go and no one who could (or would want to) take care of
him. The decision was made for him
to be killed.
I know that this was the best decision for the people in the
town (and maybe even for the dog, to be honest). However, what I couldn’t get past was that we had no
choice. There were no other
options. My mind kept repeating,
“There are no options…” It was the
lack of choice that angered me.
And I started to think about how this lack of choice is not just in the
lives of expats’ dogs. This fixed
and limited fate is dominant across the whole of South Sudan, effecting people
of all ages and abilities. A
bright young woman may dream of becoming a scientist or lawyer. She may have even saved up some money
to attend a university. However,
she will end up staying in town because a family member will have just had a
baby and there are too many mouths for one person to feed. Eventually, she will also get pregnant
and will never see life beyond her small village. An older, educated man may have the passion and the vision
to create reforms for his state.
He too will never see this dream realized because the corrupt government
officials will have stolen whatever small amount of money this country had
allocated for development.
And it isn’t just South Sudan that angers me. It is this whole, broken world, with
its poverty and its hunger, its greed and its corruption. Nothing is ever working the way it
should.
I don’t tend to recognize my own anger very well, often
mistaking it for sadness or a “pessimistic attitude.” Amidst all of my pondering, it took me a while to call my
anger what it really was. When I
finally I named it, it covered me like a wave, washing away any grains of hope
or grace that tend to cling to.
Once I got home I chose to do push-ups to vent out my anger.
With burning arms, I opened up my
laptop only to read about more bombings in Nigeria.
F*@*!!!!
I was hit again with the injustice.
More push-ups.
(If this anger keeps up, I will reach my “Linda Hamilton arms” goal
sooner than expected.)
Now that I’ve had some time to read, reflect, and sleep
through my anger, I just feel tired.
I don’t know what my responsibility is as a citizen of this earth, but I
feel the need to do something. God
certainly doesn’t want me to turn a blind eye to injustice. Proverbs is filled with words of wisdom
about seeking justice. Chapter 29
reads, “The righteous care about justice for the poor, but the wicked have no
such concern. Mockers stir up a
city, but wise men turn away anger.” I read on for my daily dose of humility. “Fear of man will prove to be a snare,
but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe. Many seek an audience with a ruler, but it is from the Lord
that man gets justice.”
Maybe I have been putting too much hope in the plans of man,
the morality and ethics of a sinful people. I have also given myself too much credit, when I am just as
bad as the rest. There is nothing
I can do here on my own. I am not
in control— and when I realize this, I throw a temper-tantrum like a two year
old. It is amazing that God
lovingly chooses to use this spiritual infant for His purposes, as unclear and
unpleasant as they may seem to me.
He who trusts in himself is a fool, but he who walks in
wisdom is kept safe.
-Proverbs 28:26
UPDATE! At the last minute, a home out in the bush was found for Mister Sirius. He is now a content and very large dog, working on herding cattle and keeping out nearby hyenas. Praise God for giving a good home to this pup!
