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Its A Hard-Knock Life, For Most

25 March, 2010

I’ve seen some hard stuff this week. Also, I’ve seen some strange stuff this week. Not just here on the streets of Kinshasa. On the Internet, it seems that health-care and the publicity of it is the topic of most conversations between Christians and lost folk in Alabama. If not between those two, its the main focus of self-righteousness on the lips of those that think their politics is better than everyone else’s.

Guess what, there’s no public health-care in the DRC. People die here. There’s no public health-care in the States right now. People die there too. Something tells me that when ever it comes, people will still die. That’s what people do. We die. Just like our father Adam.

Last week Watford and I met three sisters. They heard the gospel, and when we asked how we could pray for them, one of the sisters took us to see her brother, who was sick. His name was Dona. Michael and I both had the opportunity to pray with him and share the gospel with him. He lay on a mat on Tuesday, under a tree, unable even to sit up for more than 10 minutes. It rained Tuesday night. Wednesday, we found him laying on the same mat, inside one of his family member’s small house about 20 yards away from where he was on Tuesday. Yesterday (a week later) I was in Mitendi and my friends there told me that a man from the other side of the street was being buried that afternoon. His name was Dona. He died on Friday.

On Tuesday I was driving along a dirt road that is being repaired, and saw a group of soldiers. They were violently beating another soldier, and threw him to the ground just as I drove past. Who is going to stop them? No one here.

Today, I witnessed the strangest thing I have seen since I got here. at 1753 hours, the car in front of me stopped in the road. Not thinking about it, I stopped behind him. It took me less than 5 seconds to notice there was something weird going on. No sound but nature. No movement but one thing: a Congolese flag being lowered. Then I noticed the soldier in the street at attention. Everyone on the street stood still, silent. All cars stopped. It was only at that moment that I realized that stillness is never present on these streets. Except for those 60 seconds or so as the flag was lowered. These people are moving, moving, moving all the time, for their whole life, until they die. Except for those 60 seconds while they respect the flag of their country.

Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.
Psalm_46.10

That has never been more real than it was in those 60 seconds.

Be still and know that He is God. Then, let God be exalted when you stop being still. Stop arguing about health-care and start pleading the good news of eternal life and new birth. The nations of the earth are bigger than the United States of America. God will be exalted there.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. Curtis B. permalink
    26 March, 2010 11:19

    Alan this is powerful…I have put your link on my facebook status. I hope many will read what you have written. Miss you brother. (I’m still jamming out to Mutemath)

  2. Cameron Crosby permalink
    27 March, 2010 00:07

    Great reality check. The man on the mat, or the soldier getting beaten, or anyone broke and lost, matters so much more than some changes in a health care system. Thanks Alan I needed to hear that. Hope you’re doing well man… praying for you!

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