*** This blog talks about the Rwandan Genocide and covers extremely sensitive topics. If you need to sit this one out, please do! ***
The 1994 Rwandan Genocide ravaged the country for almost 100 days. The conflict between the Tutsi and Hutu tribes had been stirring for decades ever since the colonization by Germany and Belgium. Countless slaughters and massacres finally climaxed in a massive genocide which resulted in the brutal murders of over 1 million people. The country essentially collapsed and was forced to rebuild from the ground up.
Today, Rwanda is a flourishing country with a democratic government and very little racial tension. Its capital, Kigali, is one of the cleanest, most beautiful cities in Africa. Although the genocide has left behind an entire generation of survivors and orphans, forgiveness is woven into the very fabric of the culture and society. The peace I feel here is indescribable and it’s mind blowing to think that only 28 years ago these streets were torn apart by grenades and fire and littered with bodies.
Rwanda has 6 national memorials for the genocide and countless churches and stadiums that have been turned into smaller burial grounds and historic sites. During our first week here, our host, Glenda, took us to two of these memorials. First, we went to the Kigali Genocide Memorial. It was a beautiful space dedicated to remembering the victims, spreading awareness and education, and creating a safe spot for survivors to mourn. Quiet gardens and mass graves surround the museum portion of the memorial. Going through the museum was an incredibly humbling and heartbreaking experience. It’s beautifully set up and walks you through not only the genocide itself but all the factors leading up to it as well as the repercussions and how the country has recovered. It also has an entire wing dedicated to different genocides around the world, opening up the discussion of why this keeps happening. There is one room, however, that hit me harder than the rest. An entire wing is dedicated solely to the children. Photographs were captioned with their names, fun facts such as favorite toys and foods, and how they were murdered. I sobbed the entire time.
In the afternoon, we went to Ntarama Genocide Memorial. 3,000 people sought refuge at this church only to be handed over to their killers by the priest. The bones and clothes are all kept on the grounds as a reminder of the horrors that had happened there. The church also remains standing with the damage from grenades and machetes carefully preserved. The Sunday School room even has a huge stain on the wall from where babies were smashed against the bricks. After going through the tour with our extremely knowledgeable guide, we sat on top of the hill overlooking the church and prayed. I felt sick as I looked down on the beautiful grounds and listened to the birdsong. This should have been a place of refuge and safety, but instead it was a bloodbath. The air that was now peaceful and calm was once filled with the screams of mothers being raped while they watched their children being cut to pieces.
I spent several days trying to process the reality of this genocide. My heart broke again and again as I thought of how helpless, alone, and terrified all these victims must have felt. For hours I sat with God and together we mourned all the lives that had been stolen and all the trauma that was left behind: a generation of orphans afraid to trust their friends and neighbors, scarred physically, mentally, and emotionally. We mourned the role that many so-called “people of God” played in the slaughter and the decision of nations around the world to ignore what was clearly happening.
It wasn’t long before the anger began to rise up in my heart. I was fed up with the world and all the people in it. How could it possibly get any worse? How are we capable of committing these hideous crimes against other people? How could these killers live with themselves? I was disgusted with humanity yet also completely in awe of the stories of forgiveness that surrounded this genocide. It quickly became evident to me why Rwanda was able to recover as well and as quickly as it did. The entire nation chose to forgive, to move on, to leave racism in the past and start afresh. It was incredibly convicting. If these children could forgive the men who ripped their parents from them, then how dare I refuse to forgive the friend who hurt my feelings.
A couple weeks later, our team watched Hotel Rwanda together. The movie is a retelling of how Paul Rusesabagina, a hotel manager, ended up saving over a thousand lives during the genocide. It was incredibly heavy, and we spent a long time worshipping and praying afterwards. This time around, my attention was drawn to the killers. About half-way through the movie, it hit me that I have that exact same hatred inside of me. Every single one of us has the capacity to commit this kind of evil. We’ve all let anger, hatred, and bitterness take over our hearts at one point or another. We’ve all looked down on other “groups” and dehumanized those that don’t fit into our idea of a perfect world. We’ve all played a role in the brokenness of the world. Once again, I collapsed into a heap of tears and conviction. I felt dirty and overwhelmed by the weight of my sin and the horrors of the fallen world that we live in. I begged Jesus to wash me clean and forgive me.
I already have, He told me. Gently, He reminded me of John 13:9-10. When Jesus is washing His disciples’ feet, Peter refuses at first but then asks for his entire body to be washed. Jesus, however, reassures him that “Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean.” You’re clean. You’re forgiven. I just need to give your feet a quick wash to get rid of the dirt they’ve recently accumulated.
So, He did. I curled up in a fetal position on the couch as the worship music continued to play and envisioned Jesus gently washing my feet with His blood. That night helped me realize the importance of taking responsibility for our corrupted hearts, but also allowing Jesus to pay the price and wash us clean. We don’t need to sit in our sins, wrapped up in shame and condemnation. We also don’t need to sit in unforgiveness and judgment for other’s sins because we’ve all played our part in this broken world.
I want to encourage you all to educate yourselves on the darkness that exists in this world. Too often, we sit blissfully oblivious to refugees spending months fleeing their home country or brutal persecution of our brothers and sisters in Christ or horrific poverty that never even allows children a chance to grow up. We let history be forgotten instead of learning from the mistakes of the past. I ask you all to take the time to consider how to share the blessings you’ve been given and support those who haven’t been dealt the same cards you have.
Don’t ever underestimate the power and value of prayer. For a long time, I easily fell into the mindset that I couldn’t help or affect anything in the grand scheme of things. Even now as I watch the violence in Ukraine unfold, I can be tempted to believe that “only praying” isn’t enough. While I do desperately want to go to Romania to serve the refugees there, I also need to recognize that prayer is one of the most powerful ways that we can help and love others. Yes, I am only one person, but when I stand with all the other “one persons,” we have the ability to make a change.
“You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell. Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift.”
Matthew 5:21-24
