Just outside of the town of Blacksburg, South Carolina, which is located about 40 miles southwest of Charlotte, North Carolina, sits a church with a unique rock exterior. It sits on a plot of land along Highway 5 across the street from its cemetery. There is perhaps no other church like it in the area, at least none that could match its solid-rock edifice that was built by Black men who left a permanent symbol in honor of God and their place of worship for future generations.
For the people of Greater Pochalla, survival hangs in the balance. Once the food basket of South Sudan, decades of conflict have unraveled the region’s fabric of society that ensured the population’s self-reliance through farming, fishing and trade.
My grandmother was a farm wife during the Dust Bowl of the Great Depression. For the rest of her life, she was meticulous
about not wasting food. She wouldn’t use a vegetable peeler on potatoes or carrots because she could remove less peel using a knife.
One of my earliest memories of feeling fully spiritually alive beyond the church was in my mother’s kitchen. My family often entertained guests, and the time put into preparing meals was a gesture of hospitality and caregiving.
As the team tore down the last of the vines covering the garden gates, Young Adult Volunteer Regi Jones realized they had just helped to unwrap the gift of Okra Abbey for the Pigeon Town neighborhood in New Orleans.
A representative from a Kenya-based church organization visited the Presbyterian Mission Agency on Monday to discuss the plight facing South Sudanese refugees. The Rev. Nicta M. Lubaale, general secretary of the Organization of African Instituted Churches (OAIC), was hosted by Presbyterian Disaster Assistance.
The Presbyterian Hunger Program’s (PHP) Advisory Committee gathered this spring at Stony Point Center in New York to see some of the anti-hunger work taking place there. They toured the gardens and greenhouses and heard about plans for the center to start working additional farm land nearby.