Katie Nalem: When Darkness Closes In

“It is in the dark that God is passing by. The bridge and our lives shake not because God has abandoned, but the exact opposite: God is passing by. God is in the tremors. Dark is the holiest ground, the glory passing by. In the blackest, God is closest, at work, forging His perfect and right will. Though it is black and we can't see and our world seems to be free-falling and we feel utterly alone, Christ is most present to us, the beam supporting in earthquake. Then He will remove His hand. Then we will look.” (1,000 Gifts)

I love the people on the island. My friends Medina, Rehema, Shamim, Alapha, Sumani, Beatrice, and all the other little children that have stolen my heart now run up to greet me with “KATE!” instead of “mzungu”. Okay, Medina and Rehema don't run; they're 17 and 22. :) Their lives are hard. It hasn't rained much on the island lately so they're worried that their plants won't grow – and for them, that means food. They have maize, beans, and tomatoes. They're able to sell what they don't need to buy other things, like cooking oil and soap. I don't pity them because it's not the things that matter, they don't have much but they have enough.

It's not the poverty that strikes me the most. Ugandans are hard. They yell and they punish by force; they hit. It hurts me to see a mother hit her child just because he or she is crying. It was in the midst of yelling and hitting and more crying today that my heart cried out, “God, do you even see them?” It was that pain that I see deep inside of them that caused such deep hurt in me, and it was in that pain that I knew the question to that answer.

Of course He sees. Of course He hears. He knows.

When the Israelites were in the desert they complained a lot. Sure, they didn't have things well off, but God had provided for all their needs. One little verse has always caught my attention in that, “God saw the people of Israel – and God knew.” (Exodus 2:25)

Another hard people group – the Karamojong. A good portion of the women at the Center are from a province called Moroto in the north but have moved down to Messese just outside of Jinja. The land there is rough, very hot and dry and the people only herd cattle. These women have also found a special place in my heart. They sit and listen to me but won't let me in. So this week we danced and sang songs, and I loved ever second of it! It may not seem like much to you, but the fact that they were smiling and laughing with me spoke volumes past the language barriers that separate us. These women, much like the land they come from, are rough. They have beautiful babies – Temra, Paul, Charles, Justine, Treasure (contrary to name and the fact that they always dress in pink, is a boy!), so on. They are beautiful women and many have such sad stories, but the stories are not yet finished. God knows.

Sometimes I feel as though I'm drowning in this pain and darkness. It's in that moment that I'm reminded of the story of Moses when he saw God's back. It is that story that my first quote is speaking of; the black, the darkness that God passed by. It's in these moments that I must remind myself, of course God sees. Of course God knows. He hasn't somehow missed the small island of Kisima 2 or the wonderful women from Karamojong. He sees my dear friends, and He has such intense love for them, much more than I can love them.

Would you pray for us, please? It's so easy to get discouraged here; so simple to let the weight of the hurt and pain cause us to question God. But I never want to question the love of God, because that would belittle the Cross. He did that for me, for Medina, for little Alapha, and for you, reading this thousands of miles away. His love is strong and transcends all cultures, languages, and lands.

This week I learned how to say “Yesu akwagala”. Jesus loves you. I never want those words to be stale. I need those words to hold their full effect. Jesus loves you. God sees and God knows.