It’s crazy to think that exactly one year ago I was swept with anticipation for what I thought would be my first trip to the beautiful soils of Africa. I was then quickly swept into the reality of a lack in funding and the romanticized trip to this alluring nation turning into a month spent at my parent’s home in the Midwest. Not quite the adventure I had sought after. 

In one year I have watched the faces and comprised the stories of many of Africa’s beguiling people. There are moments I felt so near to its littlest inhabitants that I blur the lines of film and memory. In one year I have wept deeper for Africa’s children than I have for any heartache of my own. I have never wanted to hold a hand or hear a voice more dearly than I do now.

CHILDLIKE anticipation. I feel like a little girl the day before Christmas fixated on the carefully wrapped presents nestled under the Christmas tree. My name is sweetly inscribed on a card symbolizing the promise that this gift is intended for me to open with great delight. I feel like a little girl staring at the ticking clock in anticipation for the signal from her Father that it is time. It is time to unwrap the gift He sovereignly wrapped for me.

CHILDLIKE discovery. It feels slightly trite to use our name in my first entry…but I simply anticipate the wonder of discovery that lies in the journey ahead of me. Every bend in the road, every village we visit, every person we greet, every child’s hand I will hold - I will discover Africa. 

I hope and know it is more than my mind can surmise.

This will be my seventh journey to Africa, having been to eleven of the 53 countries associated with the continent.

And though the idea may be hackneyed, what I know now is this: If one has tasted the waters of Africa once, you will thirst until you taste them again. Step foot there once, and a chunk of your heart’s flesh is inexorably torn out and left on the continent - with the people.

Aside from returning to visit the piece of their own heart they have left in Africa, I’ve often wondered what compels people to return to these lands - lands rife with such insidious, pervasive suffering.

I have come to think that perhaps it is because the dark possibilities of the human heart are on vivid and graphic display therefore I am captivated when even the subtlest light penetrates. Few other places allow one to see so clearly the rancid, potent depth of evil we are all capable of as humans. I am talking about evil which causes children to live on the streets, forces them to be tools of war, allows them to be exposed to impoverishment and disease, coerces them to be sex slaves, prohibits them from healthcare or relegates them to die of hunger. Brutality, impunity, injustice. All these things I have witnessed. In Africa. And it is within this evocative backdrop that the possibilities of hope - hope in the only One who can bring any glimmer of light - becomes all the more intense. These small but vibrant rays of light which emerge despite the darkest expositions of the human heart and all it’s grotesque competencies - they continue to draw me back.

Because when the Image of Love is given flesh by God’s human children in this context, it is infinitely more brilliant. I am not talking about sugar-coated hope which leaves us all disillusioned. I am talking about children being rescued, communities successfully feeding their children, glimmering smiles, reconciling creation, emotions rehabilitated, wounds healed, peace forged, exodus from oppression, the clammer of song rising above the noise of war, forgiveness gripping hearts, children being restored to their families, rightness coming to earth… Faith, Hope, Love. All these things I have witnessed. In Africa. Not only is the darkness made utterly more stark and further unmasked, but light actually becomes visibly more brilliant.

As filmmakers, photographers and story tellers. We go to love. We go to be loved. To be human beings, not human doings. We go to expose child injustice. We go to be blinded by light.

Blinded… so we will be forced to follow the lead of Africa’s children.

A small flame under the high noon sun is almost unnoticeable. Amidst the black of the darkest of night, that same small flicker renders brilliantly mesmerizing illumination. We simply hope the stories we capture will reflect this radiance well.

Shine your light forth, Africa. It is brighter than ours.

Follow our journey via twitter. We leave JULY 05! Please consider giving to our current needs list. GO>>

All things made visible become light. [EPH.5/13]

© Jonathan Olinger 2009. All rights reserved.

I am filled with anticipation. Isn’t that so cliche? And yet, I am drawn back, repeatedly. The beginning has merged with what flowed into Now, and today I find myself singing as I think of footsteps covered with the color red, friends, faces familiar, beauty, sounds so close to my soul they breathe me in.

What do I anticipate? The breathing with ease that whimsically accompanies a return to what holds both so much pain and so much delight. I do not try to oversimplify or oversensationalize Africa. Those mistakes have been done before.

Rather, I return back to the place that has had more influence in forming me than any other, if place can hold such power. Rather, the people. My friends. Our family.

I await with joy to return.

I traveled to Burma in 2004. There I experienced suffering and oppression beyond comprehension. I met a boy of 12 years who had just had his leg blown off by a land-mine two weeks before while in the jungle trying to find something for his family to eat. I was there for a short time, but that experience has remained with me, and I can never forget the people of Burma. They continue to suffer. We continue to pray.

There is much to say about Burma. For now, check out this short film regarding Burma. It is beautiful. How can we be a part of bringing beauty to Burma?

To learn more about Burma, please visit our friends at http://www.freeburmarangers.org/

Slideshow on CNN.com

Read the Article Written by Lindsay on CNN.com

Lindsay Branham was recently on CNN advocating for the situation in the Congo. Lindsay works full time for Food for the Hungry and is currently based in Kigali, Rwanda. Please check out FH Global online to learn of Food For the Hungry’s work in Africa. Lindsay is also a freelance writer and photographer for DTJ the side. We recently had the opportunity to connect Lindsay with CNN and she used this massive platform to speak passionately about the crisis in the Congo and how it is adversely affecting the people. Lindsay is a true example of one who speaks up for those who cannot speak for themselves in order to ensure justice for those who are suffering. 

After watching the video, you can click on the DR Congo Category of the DTJ blog, or simply scroll down, to read and see more stories and photos from Lindsay. Please urgently pray for the people of the Congo. Right now pause, take 60 seconds, and pray for the people of the Congo and that peace would come.

 
Tell us what you think! We want to know what your heart beats for regarding the crisis in the Congo, so write us your comments or take a moment to post prayer on their behalf.

We gathered in an oversized room to discuss an under prioritized crisis. Crisis because the abduction of children into armed groups and if they escape the life of destitution awaiting them, is a crisis nearly unparalleled anywhere in the world. Under prioritized because, frankly, no one cares and very little is being done about it.

We were all there. Provincial administrators, village chiefs, pastors, presidents of associations. And we had come to at least begin the dialogue. To open up the gates. I really wanted to hear their perspectives, to listen to their frustrations and joys, to learn their hearts.

Over the next four hours much was said. I could see the utter exhaustion in their faces and words. Exhausted of war, exhausted of death and destitution. Exhausted from witnessing the future generations become trapped in war, prostitution and violence because of the generations before them. Exhausted of watching their community and life destroyed. Constantly.

But they spoke with courage. They have not given up. We focused the discussion on vulnerable children in their community, primarily child soldiers, and what can be done to bring them life. They have ideas and dreams for their community and for their children. They just have no way for those hopes to birth reality. And that has been devastating.

The chief of Sake is an elegant man with graceful airs and a gentle, kind presence. He also commands respect and is quick to listen. He is the core of the new committee we formed today for the healing of child soldiers in Sake. Made up of five community leaders, including pastors, the president of a woman’s association and the chief, they will dedicate themselves to spearhead sensitization, intervention and re-integration efforts for child soldiers in Sake. They agreed that these children are not beyond redemption and that it will take them mobilizing to begin the process.

The first child we discussed was Leonard. Former Mai-Mai child soldier, 15 years old, and addicted to alcohol and given to anger, Leonard is at great risk. The chief says he knows Leonard well and that if there is not an intervention, Leonard could easily die.

Yesterday I had gone to see Leonard. The winding path to his home is starkly beautiful. The raging river and tranquil lake flank his home, surrounded by bright green hills. As I walked up the dirt path a few men were making local beer. A long dug out canoe was filled with leaves and liquid. Apparently this is how it’s done.

Leonard came around the corner swaggering. He was completely drunk. His continually further thinning body wobbled toward me. His eyes were half way shut. He smiled hugely and grabbed my hand. He said he was happy to see me. He told me I am like his parent.

We walked down the dirt path to find somewhere more private to talk. My heart sank that he was so drunk. His father had told me that the war had made it too dangerous to go out to their fields to farm, so he started brewing local beer (the dug out canoe), and sold it to make money. Leonard was responsible for selling the beer. Apparently, he just drinks it. His father had been so downcast that day, his head in his hands, saying he just has nothing to offer Leonard.

Today it only continues. Leonard began saying he was angry because last time we had paid another former child soldier’s school fees. Leonard raged. He shook his thin arm in the air and started crying. Watching him, filled with rage and nearly exploding, while at the same time expressing his wounds through fitful tears, I knew I had no answers.

Through the Father’s eyes, what would He see? What does He see? A value, a preciousness, which far exceeds anything I can even imagine. When God looks at Leonard, even in the midst of tears, He sees worth.

As the first action for the committee for the healing of child soldiers in Sake, the chief will go to speak directly with Leonard’s parents and Leonard himself about coming to Goma for three months to stay at a center for children at-risk, sponsored by Discover The Journey, where he will be in a stable, safe environment, learn a trade, and most importantly, receive the love and warmth of a Christ-loving staff. If everyone accepts, Leonard will be in Goma tomorrow.

I am silenced by joy. The joy of seeing a community initiate the healing process for the brokenness in their own community. The joy of the peace and hope of Christ that has broken through today. And the joy over one child, Leonard. I pray he comes back to the flock.

Love awaits him.

By Lindsay Branham

To learn more about Discover The Journey’s work in the Democratic Republic of Congo, click HERE

To fuel Discover The Journey’s quest to bring light to the story of child soldiers in the Congo, please donate now.