Background on Darfur

Darfur has been embroiled in a deadly conflict for over three years. At least 400,000 people have been killed; more than 2 million innocent civilians have been forced to flee their homes and now live in displaced-persons camps in Sudan or in refugee camps in neighboring Chad; and more than 3.5 million men, women, and children are completely reliant on international aid for survival. Not since the Rwandan genocide of 1994 has the world seen such a calculated campaign of displacement, starvation, rape, and mass slaughter.

Since early 2003, Sudanese armed forces and Sudanese government-backed militia known as “Janjaweed” have been fighting two rebel groups in Darfur, the Sudanese Liberation Army/Movement (SLA/SLM) and the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM). The stated political aim of the rebels has been to compel the government of Sudan to address underdevelopment and the political marginalization of the region. In response, the Sudanese government’s regular armed forces and the Janjaweed – largely composed of fighters of nomadic background – have targeted civilian populations and ethnic groups from which the rebels primarily draw their support – the Fur, Masalit and Zaghawa (notes about our use of ethnic terminology).

The Bush Administration has recognized these atrocities – carried out against civilians primarily by the government of Sudan and its allied Janjaweed militias – as genocide. António Guterres, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, has described the situation in Sudan and Chad as “the largest and most complex humanitarian problem on the globe.” The Sudanese government and the Janjaweed militias are responsible for the burning and destruction of hundreds of rural villages, the killing of tens of thousands of people and rape and assault of thousands of women and girls.

With much international pressure, the Darfur Peace Agreement was brokered in May 2006 between the government of Sudan and one faction of Darfur rebels. However, deadlines have been ignored and the violence has escalated, with in-fighting among the various rebel groups and factions dramatically increasing and adding a new layer of complexity to the conflict. This violence has made it dangerous, if not impossible, for most of the millions of displaced persons to return to their homes. Humanitarian aid agencies face growing obstacles to bringing widespread relief. In August 2006, the UN's top humanitarian official Jan Egeland stated that the situation in Darfur is "going from real bad to catastrophic." Indeed, the violence in Darfur rages on with government-backed militias still attacking civilian populations with impunity.

On July 30, 2004, the UN Security Council adopted resolution 1556 demanding that the government of Sudan disarm the Janjaweed. This same demand is also an important part of the Darfur Peace Agreement signed in May of 2006. On August 31, 2006, the Security Council took the further step of authorizing a strong UN peacekeeping force for Darfur by passing resolution 1706. Despite these actions, the Janjaweed are still active and free to commit the same genocidal crimes against civilians in Darfur with the aid of the Sudanese government.

International experts agree that the United Nations Security Council must deploy a peacekeeping force with a mandate to protect civilians immediately. Until it arrives, the under-funded and overwhelmed African Union monitoring mission must be bolstered. And governments and international institutions must provide and ensure access to sufficient humanitarian aid for those in need.

Get involved! Visit www.savedarfur.org and see what you can do to help...

I really wish that I could become a good writer. That I could become one of those people whose life becomes legendary merely because of the artistic ability that they have when putting words down on paper. But sometimes I realize that this is only a dream of mine. It may not be something that God has willed for me in my life. It’s probably only something that I want and have willed for myself. I was journaling about this last night though and had a random thought pop up.

Maybe writing isn’t a gift. Maybe writing isn’t an ability that God has given me to use like music, preaching, or drawing cool pictures underfoot with sidewalk chalk. I think writing, creativity in general, is something that everyone in all of humanity has been given. We’re made in God’s likeness. God’s creative. He even has a sense of humor. Don’t believe me? Look in the mirror. Honestly though, I think that we all have been created with a raw talent. It’s just like playing an instrument though. It takes practice to get better and better. Or stretching. I can’t do the splits if I don’t start stretching everyday. It’s going to be impossible. And although doing the splits is one of my life goals, I’m not going to achieve it until I hit the floor and start stretching to get there.

I think writing is the same way. It’s something that I’m going to have to practice before I’ll be any good at it. Not only will I have to start writing everyday, but I’m going to have to read more and more. It think that learning to write might be a lot like learning jazz improvisation. In order to get a lot better at jazz improvisation, I need to listen to it. I need to hit the record store or all of the illegal online databases and take pleasure in all of those classics dripping with imagination. Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Dave Holland, etc. Then I need to mimic them. I can’t do what they’re doing with their instruments if I don’t try to do the exact same thing. After I master their technique, I make it my own. That’s how I add my creativity, my life, my horror and my imagination to something great. That’s how I make something great even greater.

So maybe I just need to grab some Charles Dickens, Anne Lammott, St. Augustine, or another author I revere and burn their brilliant thoughts into the back of my mind. Once I’ve seared the image that their words manifest themselves into in my head, maybe then I can add what I want to make their words even hotter. Maybe I’m the one that’s going to manipulate what they say to a new degree, to the degree that it’s not only going to leave a mark on the mind, but on the heart. I just need to practice.

So that’s what this attempt is. It’s an attempt at writing. I’m attempting to write everyday for at least a little while in order to try and perfect what I want to say. In order to practice getting my thoughts out on paper. This is obviously a little different than the way that I journal. My journal’s are more personal, private, and between just me and God. Sometimes I wish God couldn’t even read what I write in there, but part of me deep down inside is really glad that he can. I want Jesus to be a part of my entire life, the good and the bad. Unfortunately, sometimes the bad outweighs the good. I’m just like that.

SEEKING JUSTICE

I'm not entirely sure what's gotten into me, but I have this passion blossoming in my heart for justice. Social justice. Social justice all over the spectrum. All over the world. I don't think that it's just a "phase" either. This is a conviction I can't beat away any longer. My skin's uncomfortable containing the soul God's put inside of me. It's been stretching and growing in more ways than one, slowly releasing the work that God's doing on the inside.

I'm going to let it show.

I think what makes me the most excited is that there is an army rising up in the growing generation of young people. And when I say army, I don't want that term to be taken lightly. The biggest blessing is that God has put me in a place to lead these students, to lead them into battle, to lead them in this fight for justice. For seeking out what is right. For making something happen for the better. To be a change. To be the flicker of light that catches the eye of the lost and draws it into something greater, something like the Kingdom of God that these students are trying to manifest.

I am so encouraged right now. I am so excited to see this sort of passion. This sort of brilliance. This sort of moving of the Spirit in the hearts of today's youth. They're wanting to take back everything they've lost. They want to take everything back that American society and the media has stripped them of. Their innocence. Their purity. They want to recapture it and take that drive, that motivation, that LOVE to all people.

They want to defend their faith.

Earnestly.

The want to live their faith.

Radically.

My prayer is that God continues to move in the hearts of not only these students that I interact with on a weekly/daily basis, but in the hearts of His people. For change. For transformation. For justice to flood the nations.

There is a list on the left of several links to organizations and programs already in place pursuing social justice in all areas. Pick one. I want to challenge you to get involved.

Sometimes I get really discouraged.

Today is one of those days.

The pressures of everything are slowly starting to mount up on top of me. I'm already not that strong. The closer I walk towards graduation the louder the splintering of my spiritual and emotional bones starts to get. I'm falling apart. It's like when someone throws a rock up on your windshield when you're driving down the highway. It leaves a dent and the more bumps you hit, the bigger the ding gets. It starts to splinter. Then the heart of the matter starts to scratch its way across the rest of your vision until you're finally staring through spider-veins.

I'm staring through spider-veins.

No, no, no. I'm not talking about the ones that old ladys get on their legs. That's disgusting. I'm talking about the spider-veins on my own spiritual and emotional station-wagon. Why a station-wagon? Because they suck. I was going to say a mini-van, but my life is and probably never will be that bad. God has at least blessed me with a station-wagon. My motto: mini-vans are never cool. Therefore, God will one day curse... I mean "bless" me with one someday. This is all irrelevant to anything that I'm wanting to say though.

I just want to say that I'm a basketcase. I've totally taken control of my own life... or at least I say that. I know I don't beleive it. The problem? I'm TRYING to take control of my life out of God's hands. I know, I know. That's probably the worst thing that a person could ever do. But for some reason, I have to have some sort of control in any and every situation. Right now it's been awfully hard for me to do that.

I'm graduating in about 2-3 weeks. I've accepted a full-time job that I'm very hestitant about even pursuing. I'm still not having any luck in the relationship department (however, this is probably the one part of my life that I'm completely comfortable with God having control over. It took me about 21 yrs. to get to this point, but hey, I'm there now.) My parents don't want to let go of me. I want my parents to let go of me. Everyone's telling me what to do. I'm telling me what to do. In some cases, I tell others what to do... or tell them what to tell me to do in a round-about way. I'm poor. I'm okay with being poor. A lot of people I know don't trust me being poor. I hate Christianity in America. I hate mega-churches in America, therefore, I'm having problems wanting to work at this church that I accepted a full-time position at. And there's more. But after writing all of this, I'm thinking way too positively to list anything any more negative.

What's the cool thing about all of that?

I have no control over any of it.

Who does? You guessed it: GOD. I should probably take comfort in that, huh? Maybe I'll start now...

Andrew Peterson wrote this. I thought it was too brilliant to NOT post.

Resurrection: Day Eight

Apr 8, 2007

The blue-green earth turns on its axis, rolling Jerusalem into the light of the sun. It turns like a door swinging open, pouring light into a dark place. Jesus inhales. His flesh and blood lungs expand, retract, the pupils of his eyes adjust to the buttery light unveiled by the trundled stone. The muscles in his shoulders flex, his fingers open and fan once, curl into a fist, then relax. His heart pumps steady and strong in his chest, and the stuff of miracles crackles in the air about him. The Father is pleased with him, and the angels tell him so. Two of them, speaking in hushed voices, welcoming the Son back to the land of the living with words of praise no human could utter. They bow to him, marveling. Though they've spent eons in the presence of God, this revelation of his love and power is like nothing they've seen before. The way God stepped into Time and subjected himself to its laws, laws he himself created, the way he allowed his creation to treat him with disdain, apathy, even hate, is more than these angels could've imagined. A wide grin breaks over Jesus' face, in anticipation of the looks on his friends' faces when he materializes in the room without deigning to use the door. He swings his feet to the floor, seeing the scars in his flesh and smiling again at the beauty of it all, if he does say so himself. Freedom for the captives. Hope for the bedraggled. The bright unraveling of the curse that man brought upon himself. Up the steps he walks, trailing his fingers on the damp stone walls, into the light of the new day. He is pleased with the story he's telling. He is satisfied with the price he paid, with the cup he drank, bitter as it was, and most of all he is satisfied that he can now love his weak and wayward children with all of himself. The holy part of his nature that could bear no iniquity from man has been satisfied by blood and death; the enmity between God and man is no more.The morning warms his face. He closes his eyes for a moment and feels in a flash the hearts of all men and women from the beginning of things to the end, and with each thump of the holy heart in the frame of his ribcage he loves enough to overwhelm them all. Love set loose on the world. Love like a roaring lion, like a storm of deep laughter.From the moons of Jupiter to the center of our boiling sun, out across numberless galaxies to the black time- and space-winnowing walls of the universe, that laughter resounds and makes its way back to the ears of the figure standing at the mouth of the tomb where the fainted Roman soldiers are snoring in the dirt. "It is finished," he had said in his agony on the cross. Stepping over the prone bodies on the ground Jesus smiles to himself and agrees with the Father."It is just beginning."