Vomitting on the High Seas

Cape Town, Day 4, Sunday

Sunday morning rolled around and Josh, Mary Kay (the chaperoning parent of one of the high school girls) and I made a pilgrimage through the drizzly grey streets of Cape Town (I felt like I had never left Seattle) to St. George's Anglican Cathedral.

In one church service, I saw a clearer picture of true reconciliation than any Sunday school teacher or text book could describe.

Standing in the cathedral, surrounded by my brothers and sisters in Christ, Black, Coloured, Indian, White, the numbingly familiar words of the opening hym, Shine Jesus, Shine, took on a powerful life of resonating truth.
Black and White stood next to each other, after spending their lives forced to worship in segregation, and implored our God of unity to "shine upon us, set us free by the truth you now bring us." We sang to the Lord of all nations and colors to "fill this land with the Father's glory" to "set our hearts on fire" and to flood this scarred and wounded nation with love and mercy, with the illuminating light of Christ. Recognizing that the light of His love shines in the midst of darkness.

The service was conducted primarily in English, but the scripture readings and many of the prayers, as well as a couple of the songs, were also conducted in Xhosa (the X is pronounced with a click that I have yet to master, fyi) and Afrikaans (my service booklet was printed in all three). The second reading, from Romans, was likely the same passage my home church, All Saints Anglican, read that same Sunday. And across the world, I saw a bit more of the majesty of its message of reconciliation through the blood of Christ.

"For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having een reconciled, will we be saved by his life."

"Veel meer dan sal ons, nou dat ons geregverdig is in sy bloed, deur Hom gered word van die toorn." (Afrikaans)

I was witnessing this reconciliation before my very eyes, droopy as they were from lack of sleep.
The power of Christ's reconciling love for us si not simply the means by which I confess my sins and am awarded a free pass to life beyond the pearly gates. It is the light that shines int eh darkness of 5 year old "necklaced" children (burned alive with a tire of gasoline around their necks), orphans,AIDS, prison cells, xenophobia, broken relationships. It is the power that brings victims and perpetrators before the altar of one God to share a common chalice and loaf of bread. It is the power to bring healing and forgiveness to a country so deeply divided.

Lord the light of your love is shining,
in the midst of the darkness, shining;
Jesus, light of the world, shine upon us,
set us free by the truth you now bring us,
shine on me, shine on me.

Flood the nations with love and mercy; send forth your word, Lord, and let there be light


Sunday afternoon -
Be wary, the following tale is one of nausea.
After church and lunch, we followed a power walking Dr. Segall down the waterfront of Cape Town where Papa will purchased tickets for our excursion to Robben Island, the island prison where Nelson Mandela and other political leaders were kept.
We boarded the fairly large passenger-ferry type boat that was to take us to the island, and started on our way. It soon became clear that we were in for a few bumps. The bumps however, turned into a roller coaster. Up and down and sideways. We were unable to see the horizon through the gray fog that had descended upon us, so I watched through the window as the waves rose and fell, covering the window complete and then disappearing as our boat decided to tilt on its side. I love roller coasters, really. But it was all I could do during that 25 minute ride not to follow the handful of other passengers who ran, hands over their mouths, to the toilets in the back.The men who work on the boat were passing out barf bags left and right. I just prayed that the man next to me kept down the steaming hot pocket he had just finished consuming when I sat next to him.

Fortunately he did. And I was able to keep my stomach fluids where they belong.

(for the sake of time, I'm about to reign in my loquacious language)
We toured the island by bus. Then we were led by a surviving prisoner through the prison itself, stopping of course at the cell of Mr. Mandela himself.

The timer on the computer is flashing at me, and I have a paper to write, so I'll have to leave it at that for now, I realize I'm a couple days behind in my entries, I'll catch up as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

Love you guys!