Something Ugly

It is beautiful here; the rains have come and everything is green, with brilliant blossoms of pink and red and orange popping up all over. In fact, for the past few weeks, I have just been overwhelmed with wonder: snorkeling in Lake Malawi, ascending a mountain in Zomba, standing at the base of a gorgeous waterfall, watching baby monkeys play in the trees, playing peek-a-boo with baboons, standing on a mountain peak, with villages stretched out in shades of green and brown. How blessed I feel to see this beauty, how filled with wonder and awe and gratitude, as I consider the majestic works of God.

Certainly, the beauty does not just encompass the things I have seen, but also the people I have met recently. The young woman awaiting her pastorate, whose voice belts out praise and beauty on Sunday morning. She will soon leave her home church in Lusaka, to travel to a new place, a new church, and begin her ministry. Her warm spirit, her powerful voice, and her brilliant smile exude beauty. And there is the perfect stranger who got out of his car today, and stood in the pouring rain, to help me drive down a particularly rocky road. And the friend who has malaria, but insisted that I stay for tea and conversation this morning. The women of Mandevu, taking up a collection in their church, so that they can visit the grieving, and bring them money, mercy, and compassion.

There is great joy in witnessing the beauty of God's world, the glory of God's children. And it is so important to stand in awe and say "wow!" But sometimes, we want to just focus on what is beautiful, to ignore that which is ugly, to pretend that suffering and violence and poverty just don't exist. For those of us who live lives of privilege, it can be far too easy to close our eyes and ignore some of the terrible realities in our world.

But God calls us to respond to suffering, to do something about injustice, to fight oppression and to end violence. And we cannot do anything if we ignore suffering, if we accept injustice, if we deny oppression, if we are too scared to look violence in the face.

In my recent travels, I visited a home where violence occurs on a regular basis. It was a small home, with walls made of mud, and a roof made of grass. Inside the house, there was one mat for sleeping, three wooden stools for sitting, and two plastic buckets for washing. That was all. And during the visit, I discovered that the man of the house was not home. He had left when he saw us coming, because the previous night, he had beaten his wife. It was dark in the house; there was no electricity, and so I didn't see the bruises on her face and forehead until we stepped out of the house, into the sunlight. She explained that he gets drunk and beats her; there is nothing she can do. There is nowhere she can go. She cannot feed her family, and so she endures abuse, so she can remain at home, to grow what little food peeks up in her garden.

All over Zambia, there are billboards about domestic violence; the government is working with UNICEF to protect women and children. Some of the billboards are very ugly; one of them shows a young woman who has been beaten, her wounds are raw and terrible. The reality is that violence is here, just as violence is everywhere, and those who are most vulnerable are suffering. It is ugly and real, and many of us want to turn away.

After the very troubling home visit, I couldn't stop asking myself what in the world I could do for this woman. What can I do when extreme poverty is accompanied with domestic violence? I spoke with a church leader, who assured me that he was doing everything in his power to help the family, but there was little that he could do. The layers and layers of struggle and oppression all compound to make this situation so overwhelming.

We must face the violence. We must keep our eyes open and look straight on at that which is ugly and troubling and terrible. And we must do something; we must respond; we must keep trying, even when it feels too overwhelming. Because beneath the ugly bruise on that dear woman's face was a precious, beautiful, sacred soul; a child of God, a sister, a daughter, a mother.

I know that the church is going to keep reaching out to this woman, and I know that she is not alone. So, I ask you all to pray for her, to pray for the church, and to pray for this world, that violence will be no more, that poverty will be no more, that hunger will be no more. And as we pray, let us also work, through advocacy, donations, and volunteering, to spread peace and justice in our world.

God can transform something ugly into something beautiful; let us be a part of the miracle, as we give, as we work, as we pray.