today, we're having a memorial service for some of our family members who were killed in 1994. we're having a service in a church in kigali within which hundreds of people were massacred. in which hundreds of women were brutally subjected to sexual torture. these people ran to these churches seeking sanctuary. they truly believed that within those walls, no harm could come to them. but the person they ran to for help...the person they trusted the most--the parish priest--is the very one who led them to their brutal end. it is for this very reason that i stopped going to church in the first place...that i struggled for a long while to hang on to some semblance of faith in the aftermath of what was essentially hell on earth.
i am going today, not only to pay my respects, but to offer support to those family members who survived and who--for a reason i will never understand--continue to attend this church regularly and faithfully. but i still struggle with the whole notion. i have more anger in me than those who witnessed and survived. how is that possible? how can they draw strength from the very same church? how can they still believe after what happened to them, to their husbands, fathers, sisters, mothers, wives...?
on days like this, it's hard not to ask these questions...hard not to get gripped with fear for our future.there is so much i cannot understand. all i do know that we have so much to do to overcome....
the struggle continues.
10 minutes ago