REFLECTIONS ON LIGHT

by Cheri Roland

After my last blog, my youngest sister freaked out, equating my comments on the light of Jesus with the light at the end of the tunnel. Thankfully, this light for me was not that of approaching the pearly gates to see if St. Peter would let me in. (Do you suppose Pete has one of those sets of keys like the deputies at Falkenburg Road do? Yikes, I've come full circle.)

I am thrilled to report that I am now officially a miracle girl! (Well, maybe not a girl…) Two months ago I was verging on liver and kidney failure. Last Monday I had more labs drawn. Dr. Naidoo showed us the results during my appointment last Wednesday; they are all within normal range, with no signs of kidney or liver damage. How's that for the healing power of Jesus? I'm still holding tightly to my image of Jesus' light inside, healing and restoring all of me. He is the Man!

The Reverend Dr. Peter Storey (not a saint YET) sent me a wonderful quote by Samuel Rayan: " A candle is a protest at midnight. It says to the darkness, 'I beg to differ' ". Light and dark cannot coexist. Without light, life on earth, both physically and spiritually, will vanish.

I have been blessed by two precious seminary students who ministered to me each afternoon during my darkest days. They shared stories and wisdom that only the Spirit can give. At one point, Storia was commenting on headlights. Headlights illuminate the road ahead of us, but only a short distance at a time. Even though we can't see the whole route in the dark, we eventually get to our destination. God protects us in the same way, lighting our way forward, sometimes inches at a time, sometimes miles at a time. Only He has the knowledge of our future and, with the wisdom of a loving parent, reveals only what He knows we can handle. I experienced this while I was sick. There were literally minutes that stretched on with interminable excruciating itching; the only way I could get through them was to pray. I know His light was my refuge. Thinking of the unbearable future was out of the question.

This headlight idea reminded me of a present one of Doug's colleagues brought back for us from her Israel trip; it was a three inch pottery oil lamp that travelers in Jesus' day would balance on the top of their sandals to light their way on the dark path. That is exactly what we were singing about in Sunday school in that little song, "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path". These images flashed together ,linking up as I had plenty of time to reflect on light. With Jesus always as my light, I have faith I will be able to challenge whatever darkness is out there. I invite you, the next time you find yourself in that dark place, to hang on to the light of Jesus. And join me in proclaiming, "I beg to differ.

Persevere (St. Paul); Never Give Up (Churchill)

Cheri's blog last week ended with her hope to endure her Dr.'s appointment for the next morning. Much has happened since.

Before that, in recent months, I had become "conscious" of something about her that before was just background noise. When puttering around the house doing chores with typical multi-tasking aplomb, she is always humming a tune. I learned pretty much to ignore it. The song is usually one from something we had sung in the past, an anthem from Sunday or some new hymn we learned at the seminary. At times, she gets stuck on one and it annoys even her. But then, we all get tunes stuck in our heads from time to time. A week ago today, I noticed that the songs were gone.

By the end of last Sunday, we decided, along with our family and closest friends, to send her home. I did not give thought then to the reality that she was in no condition to ride an hour in the car, much less about 20 hours on airplanes. But we were in a very difficult place, seeing few options. The hope for a turn-around was waning.

Monday morning, she summoned what remaining energy left to ride 45 minutes to her Dr. In Durban. He took one look and said he is sending her to the hospital. This is not really the best place for someone with latex allergies and few defenses left. He wanted to have her admitted by a dermatologist. An appointment was obtained promptly. Within a few minutes we were in the waiting room of a large dermatology practice reconciling ourselves to the idea of hospitalization. Her skin was inflamed - the color of a pomegranite. Wrapped in sweaters, she looked like a street person. The office staff kept looking at her, puzzled. Soon we were shown to an examining room.

There we were met by an associate in the practice, Dr. Hoosen, a lovely young Indian woman. Gentle and calming, she put us more at ease. Her working diagnosis was severe eczema. She prescribed several medicines - prescription, OTC and those made at the office. To rule out cancer, she took a piece of skin for a biopsy. She did not think it was what we thought it was, the Stephens-Johnson syndrome. We were a little encouraged.

Next morning, Cheri said, "I feel better already." The itching had diminished. She slept better. Things looked promising.

At 8am Tuesday morning, I answered the phone. It was the Dr.'s office. "When can you be here? Dr. Naidoo is coming in from his sabbatical to see you." First thought - is this terrible or promising? I woke Cheri up and we were in Durban about 90 minutes later.

Enter Dr. Rajan Naidoo, sophisticated, elegant dresser and charming. The biopsy showed that she has psoriasis, a common skin ailment that, for most people, appears in their thirties and forties. It is mostly genetic and can be managed. Dr. Naidoo was unlike any other physician either of us had encountered. He was encouraging, worked with us as a team, made us feel part of the plan, affirmed us at every step. Cheri and I thought about the same thing - all the prayers coming from so many different directions. Dr. Naidoo said that prayer is what brought him in that day.

Within the next day or two, the songs returned. They will never be annoying again.

Praise God.

LIGHT

by Cheri Roland

"… and the Word was the light of men." The magnificent first paragraph of John has been circulating in my head over the past three months. I have indeed been in a very dark place, but the concept of light has been a constant under current. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it; "light a candle and curse the darkness"; "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine!" At one point I even wondered why I was being bombarded with all these references to light.

Monday has to be my worst day yet. But during one of the pastoral visits with two of our amazing women students, Dumisile mentioned the concept of light. She suggested that I visualize Jesus as a light inside my soul. That image really spoke to me; I latched onto the light of Jesus casting out the darkness in my body. I have even given Him more mobility ,like Eva from WALL-E, one of the more current movies we have seen. It just seems appropriate that Jesus, my Healer, be able to zoom around inside my body. So this image has become my focus, and He is not only sustaining me, He is healing me.

This systemic allergic reaction has played havoc with my liver and skin. I must soak in the tub laced with olive oil at least twice a day. I have dedicated my baths to very specific visualization. I ask Jesus to travel with me throughout my body, kicking out the bad guys and strengthening the good. I figure since He made me, He knows best how to heal me.

My immediate goal is to be able to face up to my doctor's appointment in Durban on Monday. I've only been as far as the back yard in the past week, using this time to be still and know that He is in control. Liver ailments all require rest, and we have been so blessed by our staff's admonitions to "stay home", as well as the fortuitous break in the schedule.

So, the next time you find yourself in a dark place, try the image of Jesus, the Light of the World, as your personal Healer. He's quite clever at zooming and zapping.

TRUST Pt. 2

By Cheri Roland

Dear Family and Friends,

Thank you all for your outpouring of support and love. I wish I had the energy to respond individually. That is definitely a goal. As for now, my most important request is for your constant prayers. The more folks that are rattling the gates of Heaven, the better. I will be working on a more detailed "report", so stay tuned.

Remember, trust and obey.

TRUST

by Doug Roland

We have received several inquiries from you about the absence of blogs or e-mails and wondering if something is wrong. Something is, and we have been foolishly keeping it from you. We started this blog over a year ago so you could journey with us. Please forgive us for leaving you out. When something goes wrong, it takes all your attention.

Things go wrong from time to time. And, if more than one thing goes wrong at the same time, then they feed on each other and threaten to drag you down. The idea of going to Africa to do God's work sounds exciting, exotic, challenging and risky. It is all those things. Very little that matters over the long term is done without risk. One must expect it. You can do little more than realize that something is coming sooner or later. When it does, there is no place to hide. In our case, it was a combination of an old health nemesis and emotional/trust issues arising out of our work.

For those who don't know, Cheri was among some of the first health care workers to suffer a severe allergy to latex and have it called that. And she is one of a smaller group that had it affect her skin so badly. Before, it was largely ignored. This was in 1994. Since then, most major hospitals have created non-latex facilities and rooms. Most dentists now stock non-latex gloves. She was referred to the best allergist in Tampa. She suggested to him that certain foods will trigger her symptoms also. He scoffed at her. Three days later, she was in full blown Stephens-Johnson Syndrome. After 10 days in the hospital, and being seen by a cadre of doctors, there was no diagnosis. She was stabilized, but her chronic itching persisted and could only be soothed by steroids, anything but a cure. For two years she went to a group of world class immunologists who did diagnose it but could not figure out a cure. As far as we know, they still haven't. I recently read on the Mayo Clinic website that "Currently, there are no standard recommendations for treating Stephens-Johnson Syndrome." Today, the link between food allergies and latex allergy is widely recognized. In a sense, she is a pioneer though she would probably trade that in for a good night's sleep.

On the day before this Easter, she was having a knife-like pain her eye from a condition first discovered six or seven years ago. It is treated with an ointment and she was out. She called her eye doctor here but he was gone for the entire week. She knew it needed treatment quickly so we went to the ER ("casualty" here ) to get the prescription. It took thirty minutes. In that time, her old invisible and airborne friend, latex, had a field day and it has seriously debilitated her. Her skin looks like someone set fire to it and it won't go out.

We have not panicked. It could have happened most anytime, anywhere. There is nothing really new about it. Beginning in 1994, she spent two years being treated by modern medicine. Eventually, she found a homeopathic doctor in Tampa. Though it took months, she ultimately obtained relief. The methods did not involve prescription medicine. She eventually weaned herself off the steroids.

Through contacts here, we were able to find two homeopathic therapists, one of which is an MD in Durban, the nearest large city. Interestingly, both had the same opinion of what was happening and took generally the same slow track, there being no fast track. The doctor is usually available by phone which is rare. The results are coming in and they are promising. With the help of a variety of homeopathic medicines she is slowly bringing her system back to normal. There are well-stocked, sophisticated health food shops in the area.

As recovery was just beginning, we entered the final hectic three weeks of the semester. The long Easter break broke the momentum at the seminary. The energy and vision was put on hold. Nothing felt right. We went through the motions. We became dissolutioned over some programs that were not launched or were launched then terminated, and there was a disappointment over the planning of another program. In hindsight, we were overly sensitive due to the health problem, thereby exacerbating our few minor complaints. Thank goodness the term has now ended.

It would be a mistake to think that we are discouraged. We are all flawed human beings. If it all seemed perfect, then we would really be concerned. We are dedicated to our work on the field education program. We are blessed by wonderful fellow staff members. Our lives are enriched daily by our seminarians who are at once frustrating, sometimes irresponsible, but always joyous and loving. They support us with their prayers. Two of them, both middle-aged women, stopped by today to pray with her, clean up the kitchen, make her soup . . . etc.

Our semester is over and our workload has diminished for the next 7-8 weeks. The conditions for recovery have improved. It's a perfect time for her to recharge and heal. Already, she'll tell you that she feels much better now than she did in 1994.

Our faith is not so shallow that we would tuck in our tales and go home. We are convinced that Cheri is getting the best help available. These methods were successful before and they will be again. So don't think for a minute that we are packing it in. One only need to read Romans 5: 3-5 to be hopeful. We have great therapists, a huge and involved community that loves and supports us just as many of you do. We have work to do and the more we do it, the more we realize that we can make a significant contribution to this country on its long road to healing.

Keep us in your prayers.

Trust and never doubt.

He never failed us yet.

Eight Months Later

by Doug Roland

Introduction

It has been difficult explaining in a few words what our work is at the seminary. In re-reading some of our attempts, it sounds as interesting as watching grass grow. The truth is, we have the best job in the seminary - a window into the hearts of 90 seminarians, ministers in training. We get to journey with them as they learn sometimes uncomfortable truths about their communities, admit their incomplete understanding of ministry, discover what it means to follow in Jesus’ footsteps, and find him in places few deign to go. How we got to this point is a primer on how God takes what we offer and melds it into a new thing, as if we were the last piece of a puzzle that He had long ago solved. At its most basic, it was a matter of hearing a faint, then semi-serious, then shocking call in the form of an e-mail. It remained only for us to say, “Yes; here we are. We will go.”

The Invitation

We arrived last year bearing no small amount of anxiety. Leaving our family, friends, the comfort of Davis Islands, our well-worn habits, customs, celebrations and familiar rhythms of life, left us vulnerable and uncertain. Our minds were flush with the words of the seminary president in his e-mail invitation.

“As part of their formation studies, the seminarians are required to be engaged in ministry and field work within the community; present involvement includes work at schools, hospitals, prison, poverty alleviation projects, HIV/AIDS clinics, a school for children with disabilities, a children’s orphanage, and some others. This is is a vital aspect of seminary life, and one which we would dearly love to develop. As the number of seminarians increases (next year we will have 82), the need to develop new opportunities, administer the program, evaluate effectiveness, deepen relationships, assess impact, forge partnerships, supervise seminarians – all of this will certainly require full-time attention. . . . . .

The opportunity I envisage could engage both of you in “hands-on” ministry, as the bridge between the struggles of the local communities and the human resources inherent in the seminary. I would expect you to forge partnerships, develop the vision, design systems, yet with freedom to invest yourselves according to your ministry, passion and gifts. . . . “

This gave a whole new meaning to “e-vite.” It sounded way too much like real work, but we had, after all, asked for it three years earlier, not thinking someone would say “yes”.

The Rebuilding

We found the field work program at the seminary in a state of near collapse and quickly realized a unique opportunity to give life to a laudable program. The problem was that nurses and lawyers know from nothing how to do that, other than to dive in blissfully ignorant. Trusting God, we did just that.

To develop contacts and build relationships, we made cold calls on people we didn’t know, with our quaint American accents and customs. Surprisingly, we were well received. (I think it was mostly curiosity. U.S. citizens living in PMB are rare.). We played our best cards: two Americans - come to Africa to volunteer, no contacts, eager to learn, lots of vision, “you’re gonna love it” routine. I felt like an encyclopedia salesman throwing in a Fuller brush on the side. (Some of you will relate.) Local Methodist ministers and others gave us leads. We went down all the alleys and discovered a well-developed network of non-profits (NGO’s) serving the marginalized and disadvantaged from severely disabled children to those dying of AIDS. So, how does one convince these veterans that they might need untrained seminarians with minimum language skills and even less experience to volunteer for them? Prayer!

Between mid-August and mid-November, we built a network of 8-10 NGO’s who agreed to partner with us in the formation of new ministers. We needed to have programs in place to accommodate about 75 seminarians (now up to 90) for carrying out their course requirement. Frankly, I think that the wise leaders of these partners understood the traditional importance and power of ministers in the culture. This was an opportunity for them to do a little educating themselves.

The Workbook

Our seminarians would be sent out to one of the programs for 3 hours each week. But the question remained - how do you make it meaningful when you can’t be at all these places at the same time to provide direction and support? We were confident that working in these projects held great promise, but we did not know how to evaluate the seminarians, keep them interested or keep them accountable. The solution came via a seminarian who had done some field work at another school. The answer was to create a workbook which would require seminarians weekly to write reflections on a prescribed scripture and their experiences. These would be turned in to us the day after and we would read them and comment. We started working on it and soon realized that this was the key to unlock the almost unlimited possibilities that may flow from a seminarian’s pen after close up interaction with the poor, the sick, the naked, the prisoner, the homeless, the hungry. We gave it a new name - Field Education and Ministry Course. Perhaps our only oversight was that we would we have 90 reflections each weekend to read, comment and mark. But then the movies at the mall are dreadful and the TV programs are in Xhosa or Zulu or Afrikaans, or are re-runs from 2003 American programs.

The workbook outlines goals, rules, expectations and all that. But its value in ministerial training and that of the entire program lies, in my opinion, in the two reflections. It became evident early this year when we began to read the first ones. The questions were designed to coax seminarians to face and engage new realities about the populations they were working with, about themselves and their view of ministry.

The weekly questions given each week that prompt and guide the writings are divided into the scriptural and the experiential.

Scriptural

How does this passage relate to my agency?
What relevance does this passage have for my ministry?
How does this passage define serving for Christ?

Experience

What I did today
What did I learn about myself?
What did I learn about God?
What did I learn about my ministry?

The Outcome

The results are best appreciated through the writings themselves. Thembe (not her real name) is a first year seminarian in the Diploma program. A mother of five, she left her job as an inspector of schools in the land-locked country of Swaziland and traveled the six hours to Pietermaritzburg. For her field education, she was assigned to a government mental hospital, Town Hill. The ward where she served is populated by older men, many of whom stare and say nothing. With Thembe’s permission, I have selected several sentences and partial sentences from her workbook that I believe reflect the first fruits of the new program. Whatever editing I have done to her writing is to give a little clarity where needed.


ORIENTATION

“The nurses and caregivers need to be supported in prayer and love . . . Ministry of presence is important to visit them, talk and share with them [the staff]”

WEEK TWO

Relevance for my ministry

“When we work for God we are not to expect rewards . . . “
“To go to the hospital in ordinary old clothes contributes to the ministry as the stigma of clergy is removed.”
“Jesus was at the level of the people.”

What I did

“Made beds; assisted the blind man (Shawn) . . . talked with him for two hours

About myself

“Though I am shy, somehow I am able to reach people, even ones I am not familiar with”
“I am still not sure about changing nappies, etc. skill to get the hang of it.”

My ministry

“My ministry is not limited to preaching but it is most effective in the one on one situations.”

WEEK THREE

Relevance to my ministry

“Talking to people about Jesus makes us alive in him. Sharing this truth is important so that people do not feel condemned and abandoned . . . . . Serving Christ is all about showing the love of God. Doing much more than talking about it. Going to the places where people have lost hope.”

What I did

“I read to the patients from a bible story book. One patient asked for the story of Joseph and we discussed how his brothers sold him due to the jealously of his coat. We talked about the importance of forgiveness. I was amazed at the depth of knowledge shown by Shawn. He talked about the effect of unforgiveness, the anger, resentment.”

About myself

“Still quesy about changing nappies.”
“ I want to get involved, not just pay lip service.”

About ministry

“Ministry is not limited to things we know and understand. God wants to use our hands, feet, eyes and everything . . . Sometimes ministry is not easy.”


WEEK FOUR

About ministry

“Jesus did not neglect one part of the community for another. Even though according to his culture, touching the dead, the lepers, the mentally disturbed made him to be unclean, he touched them anyway. When service moves from the lips to the heart and hands, feet, then we are truly serving God.”

What I did

“I brought a deck of playing cards and Snakes and Ladders. Dennis just sits there and not talk much. I asked if I could play with him. He agreed. What a game we had! He can even count . . . . . . Grand Pa Aoupa recognized me, and we also played a game. . . When we prayed the Lord’s Prayer, they could sing and we danced and sang. When we left we could hear the singing continuing for some time.”

About my ministry

“It is possible to enjoy outreach if you plan and give yourself to God. . . . . I also caught a glimpse of the female ward. There is also a need there. Patients need people to talk to.”

WEEK FIVE

WEEK SIX

About myself

“This encounter [with the man whose family does not visit] confirms my calling to the people in need. My belief is that ministry may involve action otherwise how will the people see, learn and experience the love of God? For me the ministry of presence is essential.”

WEEK SEVEN

About myself

“I am not good with farewells. I got an affirmation of my skills for encouraging and bringing hope. She said when I shared Christ, he became real to her. Two of the nurses asked for prayers.”

My ministry

“ . . . is still unfolding. I had a question why God will call me to leave my job. I am discovering that I enjoy what I am doing. My prayer is for God to reveal his purpose for my calling.”



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As part of their training, every seminarian is placed with a local church for the year. There they help with services and such other pastoral tasks requested by their supervisor. Thembe was placed at Town Hill Hospital.

DO UNTO OTHERS by Doug Roland

On one of her walks through the neighbourhood, Cheri stopped in front of a chapel that looked a bit like a mausoleum. It sits on about two acres of high ground on the east side of Pietermaritzburg and is visible from a number of areas in the city. A large white cross is placed behind the chapel. We've never seen anyone go in or out of the building. The architecture does not resemble the colonial British buildings that dot this area. It has more of a European feel. Other than the Latin on the building, there is nothing there that reveals just what it is. We were looking at it one evening when an Afrikaans couple on a walk came by. They said it was a memorial for Italian prisoners of war. That's about all they knew. So what's it doing in a small city in South Africa?

In the early years of World War II, Italy was persuaded by Hitler to join the Axis powers. Italy had interests and holdings in northeast Africa, specifically Somalia and Ethiopia. Three days after Germany invaded Poland in 1939, South Africa declared war against the Axis countries to defend its strategic geographic position. It had fewer than 4,000 soldiers at the time.

In 1940, Germany and Italy went into north Africa primarily to secure the oil fields. By then, South Africa had beefed up its enlistments and joined Britain in attacking and defeating the Italian army in Eastern Africa, one of the first setbacks for the Axis.

In February 1941, the first Italian prisoners-of-war from the North Africa campaigns arrived in South Africa. Thousands more followed over the next two years. Eventually, some 67,000 Italian prisoners were housed in the country. Providing for them was an enormous and challenging task for the South African army and other public officials. They set about it on a massive, country-wide scale. Indeed, one of the largest POW camps in all the Allied territories was located near Pretoria.

The treatment of the POW's was extraordinary and speaks volumes about the people of South Africa. The Geneva Convention of 1929 prescribed minimum conditions for treatment of military captives. South Africa, facing boatloads of Italian prisoners, marshaled its resources and, in an act of uncommon grace, exceeded the minimum standards in ways that have probably never been matched. Barracks were quickly built, along with hospitals, eating halls, schools, libraries and community halls with performing arts venues. The army tended to the religious and spiritual needs of the prisoners with a cadre of chaplains. Sports facilities such as football grounds, tennis courts, and boxing rings were part of every camp. Some theater companies had as many as 120 men. They performed operettas using their own symphony orchestra. Literacy was taught to prisoners unable to read Italian to help prepare them for re-entry into Italy. Four thousand South African industries, shops and households provided employment for the prisoners. One such employer , Guido Monzali, was himself an Italian.

Born in March, 1877, near Bologna, he left his impoverished family for the United States at age 14. Poorly educated and possessing no real skills, he worked in Midwestern coals mines for several years before returning home briefly. He again left home to work on the Trans-Siberian Railroad project, then on to the Sudan where he learned how dams were built.

In time, he settled in South Africa and started his own construction company that built some of the largest public works projects in South Africa, most of them within an hour of Pietermaritzburg. He also constructed railroad lines, bridges and water supply facilities.

In 1931, he built a mansion (more like a castle) for himself and his family on the outskirts of the city. It remains there today. Many POW's worked as part of Monzani's household staff. It is they who built the chapel to honor and memorialize the Italian prisoners who served their time in South Africa. It is not surprising that many of the prisoners did not go back home after the war.

My ophthalmologist here is named Donelli. I'll ask him at my next appointment.