Real Joy

 Well this morning I promised you something less gloomy, so here it is.  In fact, for me it's a real joy.

When we were missionaries back 50+ years ago, we were serving a two-year assignment in the country of Zambia.

There was a refugee camp that accommodated Angolan boys who had escaped the violence there and were trying to start a new life. Word came that they would be thrilled if we could come once a month and lead them in a time of worship. 

From our home in Luanshya, it was a three-hour drive west over a rough dirt road. It was known that terrorists were based in the area, but most of their activity was focused on Rhodesia (now called Zimbabwe) to the south. While in Zambia, they were model citizens, and even attended many of our churches in the area. While we were never certain of their identities, we tried to maintain a peaceful relationship with all. Admittedly, this was hard to do sometimes, knowing that when they crossed over the border, they would be targeting people like Tony’s parents, who were serving as missionaries there. The only real danger to us would be if they suspected us of gathering information about them. So, we tried our best to be “Switzerland”, keeping our focus on ministry only.

The facility was well-kept and had all the appearance of a church camp. All the boys came with unique tribal dialects, and being from Angola, Portuguese was the common language for everyone. Fortunately for us, many were studying English as well, so we managed to get around the camp without much difficulty. 

When we arrived, hundreds of boys would rush out and 'escort' us into the camp.  It was hard not to feel like royalty, but when you consider that they were in the middle of the bush with hardly any visitors, their excitement was understandable.

We would make our way into a large covered meeting area, where the entire population of the camp would be waiting patiently. 

I always chuckled (at least after the first time) to see some other boys gleefully pushing wheelbarrows of live chickens by the window.  

Then Tony would deliver a service.  He would preach, and they would sing.  There’s nothing like the sound of African acapella music, sung by hundreds of young men, filled with the joy of being safe and well-fed. 

Afterwards, we would be led to the dining hall and (you guessed it) partake of a delicious chicken dinner!

The boy we remember the most was Jose, who seemed to be the self-appointed leader of the group.  He was always so cheerful and outgoing. One day as we were finishing up our meal, I casually asked him how he happened to be in a Zambian refugee camp.

I don't know what I expected him to say, but maybe something like "how I moved from Colorado to Texas" or something.  His answer both floored me and reminded me how naive I was.

"Oh," he said with amazing aplomb, "when I was about 9, I was at my home one day. My father was a pastor and a tribal leader as well.  Some rebels came into the yard and started shooting. They massacred my whole family, my mother, my father and all my siblings.  I watched it all and then they just went to the next hut and started killing them.  I had nowhere to go, didn't know what to do, whether to hide or try to do something with the bodies, and then a lady got my attention and said to come with her....... I did, and now I'm here."

Somehow we in the west have NO IDEA what goes on in God's world to His people. How Jose could be so truly joyful and positive is incomprehensible, but it happened.  As we were talking that day, he said, “My parents taught me a song that I’ve always remembered. It’s in French.” Then he sang,

“C'est la joie, C'est la joie qui règne dans mon cœur.

  C'est la joie, C'est la joie qui règne dans mon cœur.

  Joie, Joie, Ah Joie!”

Roughly translated, “It is joy that reigns in my heart”.

Sadly we weren’t able to keep up with any of those wonderful boys.  God only knows what bright futures they were able to find. 

And that’s why I can sing those words today, because God DOES know where they are, and He loves them just as much now as He did back then.

As certainly as I know God has not forgotten those boys, I know beyond a doubt that He hasn’t forgotten about you and me either. Sometimes He may seem far away, but that has nothing to do with reality. Reality can be found in the precious words of Isaiah 49: 15-16,

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?

Though she may forget, I will not forget you!

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.”

Pray for the world.  For the martyrs, the ones who have faced such horrible crimes to come away choosing to praise God and have Joy

Till next week!

Marsha

Ps. We did have a nice little cruise with some church friends.  Tony got to lead a Bible study AND deliver the Sunday church service onboard, so that kept him pretty happy.  Now that we’re back home, we’re gearing up for ongoing Bible studies and preaching opportunities.  C'est la joie!