Seeing with new eyes.

Yesterday, I experience Rwanda in a new way. In my last two years here, I've slowly learned more and more about the genocide. I've met many people and heard their stories of how their life was ripped a part in 1994. Many of those people, I have come to dearly love have lost so much. Many people may have the mindset of "That was 21 years ago, come on, just move on". Even I have had that same mindset. But let me ask you this:
If you lost your mother, father, brother, sister, aunts, uncles and friends - could you just move on? If you saw people brutally beaten, raped and murdered (your loved ones or complete strangers) - could you just move on? If your home was robbed and burned - could you just move on? If you were a target simply because of your ethnicity - could you just move on? If you were attacked by someone from your same country, but who refused to see you as a human - could you just move on? If you had to see the children and grandchildren of those who took your everything from you - could you just move on?

When I think about it that way, when I put myself in their shoes, my answer would be no. I can't imagine loosing everything and everyone, just because of my ethnicity. The genocide was based on an ethnic cleansing. Victim and perpetrator were both Rwandese. They worked together, lived close together, they were friends and some even family. But on 7 April 1994, people were separated by ethnicity, they were beaten, raped and thousands were killed. So, how do you just move on from that?
This last week has been a week of memorial's here in Rwanda. Everyday, most shops and business's close and people attend community meetings. They remember those who were killed, they remember what the country has become in the past 21 years, and they thanked God for His hand and provision. Yesterday, I was able to attend a memorial.

Ndera, just outside of Kigali, was deeply impacted by the genocide. Many people seeking refuge gathered inside a Catholic church. The Priest promised them their safety. However, massacre occurred, and the Priest played his role in it. Today, the church still stands and marks the horror of the massacre. The memorial began there. There were prayers, singing and laying flowers at the mass grave. Soon, we all walked just down the road. This site was another mass grave. The one I was with had family buried in those graves. There were more prayers and a choir led the group in song. The songs were slow, somber sounding and set the mood for the occasion: sorrow. We laid flowers on the graves in memory of those lost. As the choir continued, we proceeded to walk through the underground, mass grave. Sobs filled the crowd. And not just sobs, cries of agony and pain. It was the most sorrowful sound I had ever heard. I myself began to sob, my heart ached for those who were there to remember their loved ones, and my heart began to fill with pain and anger.

I'm not Rwandese. I wasn't here in 1994. In fact, in 1994, I had no idea what was going on in the nation that would eventually become my home. It wasn't until 2013 that I began to learn about the terror of the genocide. I've met people who are still in pain - both emotionally and physically. As I've grown to love so many here, it's starting to feel like I've also loved ones. As Rwanda becomes my home, I feel pain that my nation went through the terror of Genocide. The longer I stay here, the more fervently I pray over this nation, the more I proclaim miracles, God's goodness and hope over this nation - the more I love Rwanda and it's people. And again, I know I am not Rwandese, but I'm starting to feel Rwandese. I'm starting to feel like it was my people who were killed 21 years ago and I feel like it's my nation that God is transforming.

So, to my beautiful Rwandese people - I am sorry. And when I say that, I mean it with all my heart. I'm sorry my country didn't intervene to spare the lives of your loved ones. I'm deeply pained and incredibly sorry that your nation was ripped apart based on the idea of some people being better than others. I'm sincerely sorry that you lost so much. And I am heartbroken for the wounds you still nurse. Please know that I love you and your nation with all my heart. Know that I pray for you everyday- for your healing, for your hope and for the future of your nation.

And to my fellow Americans and people other than Rwandese, get on your knee's! Not just for Rwanda, but terrors similar to the genocide are still taking place. They don't take place in our nation, so we forget. Nations are being ruined, families are being ripped apart and eliminated. Get on your knees for the Lord to work miracles. Pray for the nations who've experienced genocide and other atrocities, even if it was 20+ years ago. Pray for healing, restoration and hope.
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One of my dear friends, one of the wisest men I've had the honour to know, spoke these words that are written below. Pray for hope! 

"During the genocide, we lived today to die tomorrow. 

Now, we can live today and have hope for tomorrow."

Also, if you want to know more about the genocide, check out the film "Sometimes in April". It is one of the more accurate films capturing bits of the genocide.