THE HEART OF DARKNESS AND
THE HEART OF HOPE—The Broadmoor 16
Jim Price and Scott Lovaas

            It’s one thing to talk about the pandemic of AIDS in Africa and elsewhere and quite another to hold and embrace an emaciated child who’s family and community has been eradicated by the disease and who herself is HIV+ and will not live to experience adolescence.  What is the mission of the church to this child and the countless thousands like her?  Thousands!  In real terms, 2000 people die each day of HIV/AIDS in South Africa alone.  It’s one thing to discuss poverty and quite another to sit with a family in a home that has no electricity or running water, a house built of scraps that’s smaller than many of our bathrooms, and listen to a mother attempt cheerfulness as she introduces us to her family.  What is the mission of the church to the poor or to those who’s future is hopeless? 

            This past November, sixteen people from Broadmoor Community Church in Colorado Springs boarded a plane en route to South Africa that brought them face to face with these questions as they encountered pervasive poverty, HIV/AIDS, orphans and the remnants of apartheid.  It was like many journeys that address human suffering—overwhelming, depressing, and haunting.  Yet, the journey also put a face to hope, love, and mission—One Great Hour of Sharing, Our Churches Wider Mission (OCWM) and Global Ministries (our joint mission program with Disciples of Christ).

            At one point of their excursion, the Broadmoor visitors were invited to stay in homes throughout a black township.  Again, the questions!  It’s one thing to talk about racism and quite another to share the home of the widow of a martyred apartheid activist, Steven Biko, and listen to her speak of her struggle with hope and forgiveness. What is the mission of the church to those who live with the ravages of injustice?

            South Africa is a deceiving place, to say the least.  Its cities are like any city we might visit.  Many of its suburbs are ever bit as lovely as ours.  Its people generally speak English and probably one or two other languages.  Its land is as beautiful as ours.  The Congregational churches are strong and vibrant.  Their worship is joyful and full of hope.  Of course, we do have to mention the AIDS pandemic, and the townships that would make our worst ghettos look upscale, the residual effects of apartheid that still serves its dose of injustice, and an educational infrastructure that best serves a rich minority.  And so it goes.  It’s a country of extremes, particularly associated with extremes of affluence and poverty. 

            The Broadmoor travelers spent most of their time with the poverty side of the equation and everywhere they were met with open arms and a welcoming spirit.  It’s one thing to talk about our spirit of hospitality and quite another to be on the receiving end of African hospitality.  Time and time again, it was the poor, marginalized, and downtrodden who by their warm spirit were educating the wealthy about how to live, love, and be faithful.  The education was about community and our human family.

            To this end, the perplexing issue became how we as the church participate in the lives of people whose daily round is a struggle.  It was Gandhi who said, “To a starving man, God dare not appear except in the form of bread”.  The fact is, when one lives with disease, poverty and injustice as a matter of culture, there comes a point beyond frustration.  It’s a kind of numbness.  But if in my desperation I discover a friend who, in my thirst, simply brings me a glass of water, I discover a miracle worker.  To know there is someone who cares and embraces my struggle day in and day out and who participates in my struggle, matters in ways no words can describe.  The God of grace becomes real by such caregivers.  In South Africa, that only begins to approach the heart and vision of our missionaries and that of the United Church of Christ.  They are there because they and the church that sends them cares.

            Just how does this play out?  One would have to see missionary Dawn Barnes sitting in an orphanage embracing toddlers who are mystified with and stroke her light colored hair.  Or listen to the HIV+ women of the Sisonke Beading Project singing with hearts of faith, “I’m going home, I’m going home, to die no more.”  One needs to know about the excitement of missionary Jon Barnes describing the vegetable “tunnels” made possible by the “One Great Hour of Sharing” offering, to grow vegetables to supplement the diet of AIDS victims.  There is the Percy Hartley House, an orphanage for homeless teenage boys in Cape Town.  These are just a few of countless initiatives made possible for indigenous leadership by our missionaries and mission offerings.  The ministry of a caring presence plays out in changed lives, giving people new possibilities for living and visions of hope. 

            So here is the stark lesson being learned by the Broadmoor travelers.  We tend to see mission as one aspect of our church life, a small percentage of our budget, a project here or there, and we give mostly token and feeble response to our world of need.  We tend to be mostly concerned about our own well-being.  But theologically speaking, the church IS mission.  OCWM and OGHS are but one piece of this, as important a piece as it is.  It’s larger than finances.  Mission is the consuming work the church must be about.  It must be the spirit, the heart and soul of the Christian community.  And for a few church people who went to South Africa, this new reality has exploded in their lives, one that will never let them experience the Christian faith quite the same again.  They now know the church must respond.  They have committed themselves to convincing the rest of their church this is so, in South Africa and everywhere God’s people live.

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