Unfinished Stories

I love stories. They give us a glimpse into a person’s heart and experience. A story is a window into what makes someone unique. A story breeds the creative. With a well-told story, a stranger can become a close friend within a matter of minutes. Stories connect the seemingly unconnected. A good story is a peculiar blend of the simple and the complex. We tend to love stories with happy endings and struggle with stories that result in tragedy. We desire resolution for ourselves and the characters we have grown to love. Throughout the story, we attach a portion of ourselves to the character we follow, making the need for an ending an imperative for a good storyteller. Despite that reality, a story’s ending isn’t always written in stone. Many are still unfolding, awaiting their final resolution, most of which won’t be realized for years. This is especially true for the currently unfolding stories I want to tell you today.

 

Well, actually I want to tell you a lot of stories. Each offers a brief glimpse into the lives of some truly extraordinary individuals whose stories remain unfinished, but are progressing nonetheless. The following names have been changed for their respective privacy and safety.

 

I want to tell you about David, a South Sudanese orphan and refugee living in Rhino Refugee Settlement in northern Uganda. David’s parents were killed in the war in the South Sudan, and he lost connection with his six siblings in the fray that followed. He was taken in by Dreamland orphanage in Yei, South Sudan where he was forced to start over without a family. In 2016, David and the rest of the orphanage were forced to leave Yei and seek refuge in northern Uganda as the violence crept into the city and settled outside the gates to their compound. Bullets would fly over the compound, but by the grace of God alone, David and the other children remained unharmed. David is no stranger to tragedy. Recently he did art therapy with a missionary during which he drew a picture of himself with an axe hovering over his head. He navigates real trauma on a daily basis. Yet David has hope. He dreams of becoming a pilot so that he “can help the people of South Sudan.” He loves school and knows that it offers him a way out of a life of hardship. Where David is able to go from here is a mystery, unfortunately. The war in the South Sudan rages on.

 

I want to tell you about Ruth, an orphan living at Dreamland. Ruth was born in Yei to a mother who decided she didn’t want her. Tragically, she was abandoned to die in a dumpster full of trash when she was only 24-hours old. Barely a full day into her life on Earth and Ruth was already experiencing rejection and abandonment from someone whose sole occupation is to love and care for her. By the grace of God she was discovered shortly after by a woman who chose to take Ruth in as her own daughter. Within three years of taking Ruth, this woman began running out of money and food for her family, causing her to send Ruth to live at Dreamland orphanage before the war broke out. Within three years of her life’s inception, Ruth had been abandoned by two mothers. She now lives in Rhino Refugee Settlement here in northern Uganda. She has a different kind of family now. Since being born, Ruth hasn’t experienced even a shred of normalcy. Yet she remains hopeful and joyful. She refuses to be defined by labels and is seeking a future full of abundant life.

 

I want to tell you about Amos, a nine-year-old refugee boy who watched his father murder his mother. One night in South Sudan, Amos walked in on his father losing control and killing his mother. The scene he witnessed that night has scarred him to this day. Within moments, a young boy lost his mother at the hands of his father. In the 24 hours that followed, Amos became an orphan as his uncle took revenge upon his father the following day after learning of his mother’s murder. Amazingly, Amos has a massive, joyful smile living here in Rhino Refugee Settlement here today. His joy is apparent and he seems like the kind of kid many parents aspire to raise, despite the traumatic events that have marked his life to this point. He can be seen running around with his new brothers and sisters at the orphanage, playing games, and laughing in their midst every day. Amos is still overcoming much of his past. He has hope, though, which is an extraordinary gift at this point in his life.

 

I want to tell you about Pastor Steven, the man behind Dreamland orphanage. I have been given practically zero details about his early life and drive behind starting Dreamland, but what I know of him clearly points to the provisional grace of God. When the war broke out and worsened to the point of endangering himself and the 137 orphans under his care, Pastor Steven made the difficult decision to orchestrate their exodus from the war zone. I will cover more of the details of their departure below, but the significant part of Pastor Steven’s story is the news of what came after their departure and arrival in Uganda. Pastor Steven and all of the other leaders and caregivers at Dreamland are now “persona non grata” in South Sudan, effectively meaning that if they ever return (as long as the current regime is in power), they will be arrested and almost certainly executed. The reasons why are somewhat cloudy, but it primarily has to do with their taking the orphans and leaving the country. In the eyes of the South Sudanese government, Pastor Steven is considered a kidnapper and is actually a wanted man. What’s amazing, however, is that he willingly sacrificed his personal freedom and his future status in his home nation for the safety of the children with whom he has been entrusted. Pastor Steven is truly a man after God’s own heart.

 

Finally, I want to tell you about Pastor Tim, one of the leaders and primary caregivers for the orphans at Dreamland orphanage. On the eve of their departure from the compound in the South Sudan, Pastor Tim drove out to the border of Yei and confronted the government soldiers regulating the traffic in and out of the city. When Pastor Tim arrived, he stepped out of his car and boldly walked up to the armed soldiers. 

“I have 137 children that will be leaving the city with me tonight and you are going to let them pass.” Pastor Tim declared. The soldiers attempted to argue with him for several minutes but he never budged.

“There are three large trucks coming in this evening. My wife is in one of them. You will permit them to pass to come pick up the children.” He declared again. According to Pastor Tim, their composure changed almost immediately. They succumbed to his authority, which came exclusively from the Lord. Pastor Tim was not a highly regarded man and likely should not have commanded the respect with which he was given that evening.

“Do not forget, you will permit us to pass this evening.” Pastor Tim reminded them once more.

“Yes sir.” they consented.

And with that, the exchange concluded, and Pastor Tim returned to the compound and awaited the arrival of the trucks. Once the trucks made it through safely and were filled with all of the children and their belongings, they departed in pursuit of safety away from the war. They passed through the border safely only to be stopped every mile by rebel soldiers who pulled every child out of the trucks to discern if they were part of the tribe with which they were at war. According to Pastor Tim, the soldiers would have killed any child who was part of the Dinka tribe, regardless of age. The children remained unharmed, fortunately. Pastor Tim exemplifies what it means to walk forward with the authority bestowed upon us as followers of God. He now resides here with the same status as Pastor Steven, forfeiting his future for the sake of these children. Each day, he and Pastor Steven wake with a sense of divine purpose. Their love for these children is abundant and full of grace given to them from the Lord. As they lead, they are raising up a generation that might just be able to change the future of the South Sudan.

 

And with that, I leave you for now. There are hundreds of stories just like these. They are far from finished, and fortunately, much of the brokenness is being restored as they unfold.