Healing Heart Wounds

A letter from Rachel Weller serving in Ethiopia
March 2017

Dear Friends,

What does it mean to be a missionary? Traditionally missionaries were people with a goal—to tell “those people” the Good News. In my understanding, the Good News is still the focus—freedom from captivity, hope in desperation, the victory over death that is ours because of the generous love of God. However, I do not think we take the message to those people, but to brothers and sisters who look different, eat different foods, speak different languages, and live very differently from us. We learn their names, we learn to communicate with them, we learn to love their food and appreciate their lifestyle. It is not a matter of taking something to them that they don’t have, but of being with them and encouraging them in the love of God as we learn from them how God speaks to and guides them. In turn, we are encouraged by their faith.

Those are the kinds of thoughts that come to my brain as I have time to sit and think. And because the work of my mission assignment is going slowly, I have a lot of time to sit and think. My thoughts usually start with, “What the heck am I doing here?” and then move on to thoughts such as those above. I have experienced God’s encouragement through the people of Ethiopia in many ways. The longer I stay here, the surer I am that these tall, thin, very dark-skinned people, most of whom cannot communicate effectively with this short(ish), rather fat white woman, nor I with them, are my brothers and sisters.

When my brother Okello called to tell me that he had just returned from visiting a village that had been attacked the day before by some people from across the border, I was devastated with him. This is a yearly occurrence that, heard on the news, might cause me to shake my head in disgust while I’m listening. But these are my brother’s people. They lost relatives to a mortar and in burning houses. Their children were captured, taken to a different country, maybe with the intention of selling them—girls get a higher price, we hear, but no one really knows, for there is no tracking system. What we do know is that a bunch of children have just been terrorized, their relatives left to agonize their loss. I grieve, weeping, beside them. How long, oh Lord? How long, how long?

Rachel’s English Class: two pastors and two elders of the West Gambella Bethel Synod

Last year Michael and I took a course on Trauma Healing. We learned how to use materials printed by the American Bible Society to walk people through the steps of healing wounds of their hearts. Eventually we will learn to be qualified Trauma Healing trainers, but the first step is to lead a couple of Trauma Healing groups. In the week before the events above, at the request of some members of an Anywaa congregation in Gambella town, we started leading a group of women and men who worked through the process of healing the wounds of their hearts. About thirty people gathered outside in the shade to learn that grieving is a process that, gone un-treated, just like a skin wound, will fester and may even cause deeper trauma. At the end, many of them expressed their appreciation for the teaching. Two women in particular spoke of heart wounds that they had not told anyone about before, but now they are free! We hope to expand this work, eventually training local people to lead healing groups themselves.

The Community Health Evangelism (CHE) programs I have been promoting are moving forward slowly. As you might remember from our September 2016 letter, CHE is a strategy of facilitating community action to improve health while searching God’s Word for guidance. When people hear the ideas, they are eager to adopt them. The work of learning the process and taking the steps to implement what they learn is more difficult. The CHE program works through committees that meet weekly, and I have not figured out—yet—how to get most of the committee members to show up at the same meeting within the same hour.

After one CHE committee meeting, one of the pastors, Mary Nyacieng, haltingly tried to tell me “Good-bye, I’ll see you tomorrow” in English. I responded (via a translator) with an idea I’d been having recently: “I’ve been thinking of teaching English to women pastors.” “Oh no, not only pastors!” another woman chimed in. We’ll start on Monday.” And we did.

And so Rachel’s English Class was started. We have a dozen students in Grade 1. After we get down some basic vocabulary (“This is my nose. Where is your nose?”), we will move on to talking about healthy living and other ideas from the CHE program. I am impatiently wondering what God will do with this group! I know already that God is building relationships. I have met many of these women before, but, because of the communication gap, have not been able to get to know them. I am so very thankful for the opportunity to learn to know each of them more personally.

Thanks for your support of Michael and me as we attempt to expand the family of God. I hope you will look for ways to join me in expanding your “family.” I look forward to getting to know you better.

Rachel