by Stephan Bauman, World Relief
As yet, none of you know Cyprien from our team in Rwanda. He is self-giving, inspiring, and above all, joyful. I asked him once what he believed to be the greatest impact by those who visit from our partner churches. Without hesitation, he said, “presence.” He explained that his people — whether villagers, HIV/AIDs caregivers, microfinance clients, or World Relief staff — are overwhelmed by those that come from across the world to listen to their story, to smile with their children, to work alongside their family, to pray with them. “It’s their presence,” says Cyprien, “that honors them — that humbles them.”
Soon, I understand, some of you will meet Cyprien as you minister on behalf of Bethany Community Church in Rwanda with the purpose of establishing and building relationships. So, it is with that theme that I wish to write, but not only to those who will travel to Rwanda as relational ambassadors from Bethany Community Church. It is also to the many who will not be there in-country, but who will still benefit by the experiences of those who go on your behalf once they return. You will benefit as you enter into the relationships they bring back and share, as you tap their own levels of transformation, and as you offer your own “presence” through prayer, learning, and financial support.
Whether you are one of a couple handful who go to Rwanda or one of the couple thousand who remain in Seattle, most importantly, you are ambassadors for Christ (2nd Corinthians 5:21), God-authorized representatives bearing His name. You carry His presence, and the presence of His body, as you give your lives. You are “Spilling Hope” holistically by your presence, your priorities, your sacrifices, gifts, and talents. You make a difference.
During World War II, Christians in Princeton, New Jersey, held a prayer meeting to intercede for Jews in Germany. Albert Einstein heard about the prayer meeting, left his house at 112 Mercer Street, walked to the meeting, and asked if he could join them. He brought his violin with him, and wondered if he might “pray” with his instrument. He offered his presence during a critical time in history.
My wife, Belinda, and I were born about 11 hours apart in the same hospital in a small town in Wisconsin. We didn’t meet until age 16, but have celebrated our birthdays together since. One year our two sons, Joshua, age 7, and Caleb, age 5 at that time, woke us by singing “Happy Birthday.” “Now, for the greatest gift,” they said, in unison. . . . “Tada . . . we give you, us!” We all melted together in hugs and kisses and told them they were “the greatest gifts we could ever want!” All of you agree, there is nothing like the unabashed presence of a child, especially your own.
Agnes Mukashinjo (pictured) fled to the Congo during the genocide after her husband was killed. Sometime later, she returned to Rwanda with only her daughter. In her own words, she was lonely and without hope. Agnes was eventually introduced to a few women from an association of farmers called Twizamura (meaning, “let’s grow together”). Twizamura was founded by World Relief to bring together widows, orphans, and others in order to work and fellowship. The association grows geranium plants that are harvested, distilled into oil, and then sold locally and internationally. Members of Twizamura gave Agnes a few iron sheets and she was able to build a simple house. In time, Agnes was invited to join and, today, Agnes is the president of the association. Each week, she leads the members in scripture reading, worship, and prayer, and, together, they plan for harvest.

I wonder if the body of Christ is like Twizamura where all of us, orphaned and widowed through the struggles of life, are arm-lifted by the Father into a community of hope, a community where His presence and the presence of our brothers and sisters gives us hope and sustains us.
Mother Theresa said, “To love, it is necessary to give.” Ultimately, the greatest gift we offer is our very life. Indeed, Christ asks for nothing less — our life in exchange for His. And then, quite beautifully, he asks us to freely give our lives away — his life in us, a gift for others. You are giving to Rwanda just like those from Twizamura gave to Agnes. I am humbled by your gift, I commend your commitment, and I applaud your humility. On behalf of those you serve in Rwanda — all my brothers and sisters there — thank you.
(Stephan Bauman is the president and CEO of World Relief — and the former country director of Rwanda.)
by Mica Wegener
Growing up in the Lutheran church, each Sunday our prayers were uttered in unison. After each prayer, the congregation paused and, with a certain confidence that comes with familiarity, recited, “Lord, in your mercy, hear out prayer.”
For many years I thought these prayers were empty. I felt it was a cop-out of sorts –- if you were really talking to God, then why would you need the words printed in a bulletin? And if this whole Jesus thing was relational and personal, then why on earth would we say the exact same line over and over as if we had nothing better to say? In His great mercy, God has since changed my understanding.
You see, I find it is far easier now to talk to God in my car, to write a prayer in my journal, or to quietly speak with him during church in the safe walls of my mind. But in this public confession, in this communal declaration that the liturgy provides, I cannot escape –- we cannot escape –- the fact that we, too, need His great mercy, and not just those for whom we are praying.
You may be wondering about now, what does this have to do with Spilling Hope? And I would tell you, the answer is everything. Long before the campaign began this spring, as our community group met to carefully plan the events, I was under the impression that I would be the one giving; I would be the one spilling hope. I was quite wrong. Yes, that is a piece of it, but I needed God’s mercy to re-direct my prayers, to reveal to me greater depths of what he does through things like this campaign.
After Film Night came to a close, I stood in a circle conversing with some of the panelists, when one said something that struck me. He said “We seem to be under the impression that people need Jesus, and that’s the main point. Most of these people don’t need Jesus –- they already have Jesus. It’s not that they’re all poor and need Jesus. It’s that they’re poor, they have Jesus, and they need water. And water –- money -– is something we have and can give.” And then, it all became painfully clear. I had missed the point. All this time I had been praying for reconciliation in Africa, when I too need to be reconciled: to my brothers and sisters in Seattle, to those across the oceans, and most importantly: to God. He calls us to learn about His Kingdom, and in doing so, to live in it. This task is far from easy. Giving generously and living aware of others is one piece of it. In learning about the need for water in Africa, I have learned about my own need for living water in Christ. In learning how they spend their precious time, I, in turn, learn how foolishly I use my own. And in learning how much they need, I have begun to see how much more I could give. In understanding their need, I have heard my call. I need them just as much as they need me. You see, in seeking to bring reconciliation, I have found that I need to be reconciled myself: reconciled to the call which I have so often not answered. And in seeking to serve communities I thought were in need of Christ, I have found my own desperate need for Him. In spilling hope, hope I did not know I needed has been spilled into my life. Would you pray with me?
Lord, two in every fifty people that hear about need in the world actually respond. May we be a people who not only respond with our words, but also in our actions.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
Father, we thank you for the resources you’ve so greatly blessed us with. The average person in our nation uses 100 gallons of water a day, compared to the 5 gallons most people in Africa and developing countries have to use. Lord, teach us to preserve what you’ve given us, and to respond in gratitude.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
Jesus, as we learn, grant us eyes to see our own need. As we give, keep our hands open. And when we fall short in our efforts, send your grace to remind us that we, too, are being reconciled and reformed. Spill upon us your hope, as we dance in the rain of your love with our brothers and sisters around the world.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.