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Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

suffering

When light shines in the darkness: Review of Congo Dawn by Jeanette Windle

February 6, 2013

Former Marine Robin Duncan has been working private security contracts in some of the world’s most impoverished and corrupt countries. When she takes a job as translator for a multinational company with mining interests in the Democratic Republic of Congo, she’ll come face-to-face with the ugly side of power, greed and personal interest. But her belief that God, if He is good and won’t stop suffering, exists in such a world will also come front and center.

congo dawn cover USEJeanette Windle’s newest novel, Congo Dawn, is action-packed and full of hard questions and truths. About God and suffering. Power and humility. Violence and peace. Wealth and poverty. Exploitation and redemption. In her typical fashion, Windle has taken true-to-life scenarios and woven a tale that sheds light on darkness in a corner of the world few of us know much about.

In Robin, Windle has created a complex character. She is hardened by life and loss but motivated by love for her niece with expensive health problems. She takes this job to provide for a necessary surgery that her single-mom sister can’t afford. When she begins to suspect that her employer hasn’t been honest with the team and that their mission is less than honorable, she struggles to justify her continued involvement because of her niece’s need.

Add to the mix, an ex-boyfriend, Michael, who is a medical missionary serving in the DRC. They bump into each other as Robin’s team is trying to cross into the country and later cross paths numerous times as the team sets up camp near the medical clinic. Michael and Robin’s history includes a tour in Afghanistan where Robin’s brother died. They haven’t spoken or seen each other in five years. In addition to sorting through their shared baggage, the two become involved in uncovering Robin’s employer’s true motive for the mission she’s on.

The story is compelling and inspiring. Robin wrestles with questions common to mankind. Why so much suffering? Why injustice? How long will you let this go on, God? Are you even out there? How can good possibly win the battle over evil?

The faith of the Congolese people and those serving with them challenges Robin’s relationship with God. And the overriding theme of the novel is one embraced by humanitarian organizations around the world: “The smallest flame shines brightest against the darkest night.”

Congo Dawn is a book I can’t put down, walk away from and forget. Though a work of fiction, it is based in truth. Wealthy countries exploit impoverished ones. A country rich in natural resources is kept from benefitting from them because of corruption and greed. People–God’s people–suffer daily while I live in comfort. And while I am  not called to run off to serve in another country, I want to do something.

The author–who is also a friend–has some suggestions for what to take away from a novel like Congo Dawn.

“I  would like readers to close Congo Dawn as well as my other titles with a better  understanding of the very complex countries and issues they represent outside  safe American borders. Even more  so, how vital and interconnected events in the international arena, especially  such issues as freedom of worship, speech, human rights, are to our own nations’  future and security. Above all, I want every reader to understand what is the  only true source of hope and freedom for any society. Bottom line, when enough  individual hearts change from hate to love, cruelty to kindness, greed to  selflessness, their society will be transformed as well. Change a heart, change  a nation. And how does one change hearts? Hopefully, by the last page of Congo Dawn, the reader will have an answer to that as well!”

———

In exchange for my review, I received a free copy of Congo Dawn from Tyndale House Publishers through the Tyndale Blog Network.

Filed Under: faith & spirituality, Fiction, missions, The Weekly Read Tagged With: congo, greed, missions, suffering

I hate everything about this

October 25, 2012

I’m venting. Be forewarned. Because I’m a writer I tend to process with words and sometimes those words aren’t pretty. I promise I’m not trying to bring you down with me. I just need to let off some steam.

Because I REALLY hate what we’re going through right now.

I hate that I’m capable of a raging outbursts that my kids think are funny but which serve no great purpose for me except to blow off everything that’s been boiling inside.

I hate that my parents might find me curled up in the fetal position when they get here later tonight because the house is messy, the kids won’t listen and I don’t have enough left in me to care what anyone thinks.

I hate that going to the grocery store stresses me out and I used to enjoy it.

I hate that when a woman in front of me is one bad decision away from not being able to buy her food, instead of compassion for her situation I think, “Oh, God, please don’t let that ever be me.”

I hate that I yell at my kids for stupid stuff like spilling a small amount of milk while trying to be independent and pour themselves a glass. Have I become the sort of person who values less than a half a cup of milk more than my child’s intentions and feelings?

I hate that I’m not sleeping well at night. And I’m drinking too much coffee. And I’m escaping into novels so I don’t have to deal with reality for a few hours.

I hate that I can’t see how much I’m blessed because all I can think about is what I don’t have.

I hate that I pout when the pizza crust doesn’t turn out like I like it and that I’m more concerned with how my food tastes than being grateful that I have food to eat.

I hate that a small thing–like not being able to find my husband’s social security card the day he starts a new job–escalates into a big thing because my stress level is off the charts.

I hate that I want to throw all our stuff into the front yard with a big “FREE” sign and start over.

I hate that I sometimes regret having kids because it’s hard and I wonder if it’s worth it and then there’s the people I know who struggle to get pregnant or can’t have kids and I’m sickened by my selfishness.

I hate that I’m full of so much hate toward my circumstances, and even God sometimes, and I wonder if I really believe His promises or if He is my God only when times are good.

I hate that I can’t live in this moment and learn from it, that I just want to escape it.

And most of all, I hate that the truth hurts and yet it is still truth.

Truth like this from a Donald Miller talk my husband was listening to on a podcast: A good story contains lots and lots of conflict. My life is too painful to be meaningless.

And this, from Psalm 38:

Your hand presses hard upon me.

O Lord, You know all my desires, and my sighing is not hidden from you.

My strength has failed me.

In You, O Lord, have I fixed my hope; you will answer me, O Lord my God.

And these words from Psalm 37 that overtake my hate and my doubt yet still I wrestle with them:

Put your trust in the Lord and do good.

Dwell in the land and feed on its riches.

Take delight in the Lord and he shall give you your heart’s desire.

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him.

I might hate this, but I can’t escape it, and I can’t say what I’ll look like on the other side. Melted, refined, broken. Everything of value–gold, silver, diamonds–passes through some kind of testing and the end result is more beautiful than the start.

This, this, is my hope in the pressing times. That like a grape, crushed and squeezed and left to sit, my life will become something sweet and intoxicating. Like a caterpillar that dies to its former life of crawling on the ground and becomes something wholly new that soars.

I do not want this yet I must embrace it.

And today I will celebrate that even in the pain, I am alive.

That help is literally on the way. (My parents are coming for the weekend.)

That my husband is taking me to breakfast in the morning, and maybe to a movie this weekend. (Because generous friends have given us money to use “for fun.”)

That my kids will fall asleep tonight and all the stress of the day will evaporate.

That there is a God in heaven who hears and sees and that our lives will, in some small way, reveal Him to others.

That what I see and feel and hear are not all there is to life.

That God is always up to something.

And I am not in control.

And sometimes I just need the comfort of words.

“My flesh and my heart may fail,  but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26

Filed Under: faith & spirituality Tagged With: depression, handling stress, hate, life's struggles, love, pain, psalms, reasons for hope, selfishness, stress, suffering, testing, truth

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