Forgiven and Sent Out

During the last afternoon of Urbana 09, a number of poets gathered in the InterVarsity Arts Lounge to express through spoken word what they had learned throughout the week. The audience—sprawled on bean bags, folding chairs, and the floor—was in high spirits, eager to snap their fingers in appreciation of a good line.

A tall figure, wearing a bright orange scarf and earrings dangling to her shoulders, weaved her way among bodies lounging in front of the stage (a corner draped in fabric and Christmas lights) and confessed that she had never performed spoken word before. The audience leaned back with good-humored smiles, ready to snap in full support of this uninitiated poet.

However, Dami Obaro, as the poet introduced herself, was not performing. She fiddled with the fringed ends of her scarf wrapped around her neck.

A History of Ignorance
Dami began her story in 2002, when she had left her home in Nigeria to immigrate to the United States. While trying to adapt to a new culture and community, her interactions with Americans proved frustrating. In Dami’s experience, Americans knew Africa only as a place devastated by abject poverty, AIDS, and starving orphans.

When Dami shared where she was from, she felt that Americans’ reactions were condescending, often ignorant of the diverse countries, languages, and cultures that comprised Africa. “Americans only seem to know that we are a people to be pitied,” said Dami, “a people they need to save with their charity.”

But in Nigeria, Dami had seen how charity can be damaging rather than helpful. In the past, many Western missionaries giving aid had encouraged Nigerian Christians to deny aspects of their culture, such as their language, and express their faith in Western ways. As one result, many Nigerians came to resent the influence Westerners had in their country. Dami never had the opportunity to learn her native language.

Now as she participated in Urbana 09, Dami realized her heart had grown bitter toward the idea of cross-cultural missions and toward Western college students considering mission work. She feared their desire to help would only add another form of oppression to disadvantaged people.

A Revised Blessing
On the morning of the final day, Dami listened to the testimony of featured speaker Antoine Rutayasire, a Rwandan Tutsi, working to bring healing to his nation. Antoine thought he had reason not to forgive the Hutus—people who killed his father, took his job, and initiated the wide-spread genocide of his people. But Antoine knew God had forgiven him and that he should love his enemies by doing the same. “From an angry, hateful, bitter young man, I became a reconciler,” said Antoine, describing his difficult journey of allowing God to transform him.

When Dami heard Antoine’s story of forgiveness, she began weeping. She had always thought that reconciliation was a one-way affair—with the offenders making amends for the areas they or their ancestors had damaged. Now Dami understood that she held an integral role in righting past relationships.

As she told this story to the silent students in the Arts Lounge, her cheeks wet with tears again, Dami admitted, “Most of the time, I did not want racial reconciliation; I wanted vengeance.” Listening to Antoine, Dami knew that God wanted her to let go of her resentment.

Dami paused, unable to continue her explanation. Instead she began praying aloud, asking God to continue changing her heart and calling her to love.

Her voice grew bolder as she stretched out her hand over the heads of her audience, praying both for those in front of her and for the two thousand students who had committed to serve cross-culturally the previous evening. She prayed for their effectiveness, and for them to have open, listening hearts. She sent them out among the nations with her blessing.

Grace in the Present
Her prayer finished, Dami grew shy and apologized for any incoherence. But the audience received her with their own tears and applause. Moved by her confession, an InterVarsity staff thanked her and proposed praying together. Sixty or so arts students joined hands throughout the room and began:

“Your peace, Jesus, is sweeter than wine,” said one student. “Thank you for forgiving our past, and giving us grace in the present.”

“God, protect the seed that had been planted here. Water it. Make it grow,” said another.

“We can lift up our hands as holy, here together, because nails were driven through your own,” prayed a third student.

For the next half hour, students expressed their gratefulness for Dami’s confession, their desire for the nations to worship God in unity, and their joy that God could use an artistic form to bring healing. The InterVarsity staff closed, saying, “God, bless the art communities we return to on campus and use us to restore your world.”

After the session closed, many students personally thanked Dami. To hear her affirmation, to see a heart change from contempt to an impassioned, “Go bless the nations,” is to witness God making weak, bitter, and guilt-ridden people into new creations, into people of forgiveness and love, a people unified in Christ.