Showing posts with label Amethyst Roth. Show all posts

Our Real Masisi Story

Masisi Territory

I remember typing the words “Democratic Republic of Congo” and “North Kivu” into my computer for the first time. I was 18-years-old, sitting in the living room with Jean Ngirwe and his wife Eva. They were Congolese refugees who had gotten a visa to immigrate to the U.S. with their family.

An image of vast rolling green hills popped up on the computer screen.

“Masisi Centre,” it read.

The former Congolese refugees, now a U.S. citizens and also board members for Rally International NCE gasped.

“We know that place with our feet!” They exclaimed—a funny way to say that they remember walking in the same place where the picture was taken.

My then future-husband, Andrew Roth talked to them while I continued reading about the place where the picture was taken. It spoke about rebels, land conflicts, war crimes and political instability.

The description of Masisi seemed so contrary to picture that I was looking at. The picture told a story of peace, tranquility and magnificent beauty. But the words told a story of a hopelessness that seemingly had no end to it.

I decided in my heart from that moment on, I would go there. I would work in the same place that Google image showed me.

But the Cost
Masisi taught Andrew and I more lessons then anyone could ever know.

It taught us that world was beautiful, but not kind.
It taught us that the best intentions are not enough.
It taught us that it takes a lot of faith to fear.

It also built our skills and capacity to a level that makes our resumes particularly attractive. We’ve gotten job offers all over the world in places where other people don’t know what to do. It is humbling. It is also sobering.

We bought a piece of land that we thought could be a refuge for children and youth around the community who were constantly under the threat army recruitment or being taken as child brides. We also supported the education of nearly 100 young people trying to recover from recruitment into the war. But the more we worked, the more we saw that it wasn’t enough.

Nothing was ever enough. Not prayer. Not training. Not jobs. Not education. And definitely not the best that we had to give. It was a vicious cycle of giving, never receiving and finding that whatever we gave never even touched the root issues that existed in the hearts of these youth.

Education is powerful, but it doesn’t heal.
Programs can be effective to a certain extent. But they don’t fill voids.

These children had huge voids. And the longer we worked there, so did we.

They needed to belong somewhere.
We needed to belong somewhere.

The same belonging (or lack thereof) that led the people we worked with to destroy each other was the same yearning for belonging that lead Andrew and I to nearly destroy each other and ourselves.

There is a war inside of us all that makes us adore our conquerors and despise ourselves. When we live in an environment where the conquerors' voice speaks louder than the voice inside of us, we end up becoming the conqueror.

Letting Go
We stopped working in Masisi almost four years ago in an effort to become a part of a local church where our spiritual and mental health could be nursed and nurtured. On the outside, people could say that the church needed us—but the truth is we probably needed them a lot more than they needed us.

Our marriage was crumbling.
Our finances were underwater.
And our mental and health and stability was almost gone.

Honestly, I just wanted to go home and lick my wounds. Or escape...

Traveling in Convoy to Masisi in 2013.
We didn't know that we were bringing
people who one day help us return today.
I considered killing myself.
I also had a period where I thought about Andrew dying. I thought if he died, I could just make a generous donation to the Congolese (in his name) and then move to Spain, get a new identity, new life and no one would ever know I tried to pursue the ministry.

Don’t get me wrong, there were parts of it that we loved. We loved living on the frontlines, we loved being stuck in the mud and recovering vehicles. We loved the chaos of it. We also made some our most valuable friends and relationships through it all.
But it took a toll that I don’t think either of us can really explain. And we took a toll on each other that I don’t think either of us can explain either.

A piece of me died when we decided that we weren’t going to continue projects in Masisi. We needed to invest in the church we were joining in Goma. And though we may not have admitted just then, we needed them to invest us. I felt like that was the end. We would never get back to Masisi—other things would take the priority and ten years later, Masisi would be like a passing dream.

That’s really what I thought. And I was so angry about it. I felt like we failed.

“I came here because of Masisi, and I’m stuck doing what I didn’t even want to do… a building at the bottom of a volcano—literally.” I would tell God.

Life has an interesting way of turning things around
We are going back now. This is after three years hardly ever visiting there.

This time with a peace that we never had before.

We belong somewhere.

A picture when we were in missionary burnout
recovery period. We participated in a marriage
conference, which was planned by Andrew's
team at Samaritan's Purse. Our guest speakers
included Euclide and Lilian Mugisho. (2014)
Andrew is not a missionary in the same sense that he was before. He holds a high position within Samaritan’s Purse and is internationally recognized as a logistical expert within disaster situations. People who I never dreamed of knowing, now know who I am-- just because of my husband's position. The rich and the powerful; the ones with residuals.

In some ways, he owes so much of that to Masisi. His work in Masisi was his Bootcamp that prepared him for what he is doing today.

Rally International NCE has a beautiful team of foreign workers who are incredibly committed to the Congolese people and to the church. They are also incredibly equipped with unique skills and strengths that neither I nor Andrew has.

We have the church, while not perfect (what community is?), it is a safe place where neither of us feels like we have to perform. We can visit with whoever we want to, have lunch at anyone’s house, go to prayer and sit on the ground, walk around or lay prostrate, doing whatever it is we want to do. We can go to Sunday Service and come-as-we-are. If we want to raise our hands, that’s fine—if we don’t that’s fine too. I can even wear pants to church and I’m not afraid of being judged for it.

Every individual needs an environment where they don’t feel pressure to perform, especially leaders. It is invaluable.

Finally, we have Pastor Euclide and his family, our most precious partners. Congo is a place of little assurance. A person can do everything right and still end up on the bottom. But there is a sense of peace to know whatever we get into, we are not alone. If we feel screwed over, at least we feel it together. If we’ve one a victory, we feel it together. That’s the best reassurance in an unassured world.

Masisi Centre also has something that it didn’t have before. It is more stable than it was before. The war still rages in Congo, but it has moved farther from the small village where we bought the land, Mukohwa, giving its people a chance to breath; a chance to start thinking beyond dodging bullets. Aid agencies have also reduced the amount of aid to the area, leaving the people forced to start thinking about rebuilding rather than living hand-to-mouth on foreign help.

Returning to Mukohwa was not met without hardship.
The old chief died during our time away. His son (who we didn’t have a relationship) inherited the throne. We had to start a new relationship with him.

We were also met by land conflicts. A large part of the war in Congo is over land conflicts—we can’t expect this not to also affect us.

But after settling those issues, we are now building a little wooden building on our 4,000 square meter property by the river. Its not much. In fact, by now we thought that we would have a big cement building on our property. None of that worked out the way we had planned.

This wooden building is even more exciting than the big one we planned. It symbolizes a new beginning— not alone, but together. The people in the village still know us. They are genuinely happy to see us back.

They thought we were gone forever.

So did I.

But God works in his mysterious ways.

"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." John 14:12 

An old but sweet memory from 2012. We were visting caretakers from our children's education program.

Our most valuable memories together were those on roads like this. This was actually our favorite part about Masisi: getting there!
Africa

God of Small Things


“Ammu said that human beings were creatures of habit and it is amazing the kind of things one could get used to …and some things come with their own punishments…” Arundhati Roy 

I finished a book earlier this year called “The God of Small Things,” I picked it up during one of my tours across the U.S., intrigued by its name. Contrary to the normal line of thought about how great God, the Universe, the Creator is—I felt particularly captivated by the fact that God is just as attracted to the small things (maybe even more) than He is to the great and big.  The book wasn’t a particularly easy read for me. It dragged on a bit, but I kept reading. I felt like there was a soul-truth running parallel to my pilgrimage somewhere hidden in the depressing narrative.

There was.

A story of a dysfunctional family living together during India’s threat of communist domination. The term family could be used loosely, since they were a group of people from random walks of life whose stories all somehow intermingle throughout their unfortunate experiences. They aren’t people who really chose to live together. Their circumstances put them together that way. None of them particularly content at all.

It was awkward.

You couldn’t say that love wasn’t in the midst of the family. But the author managed to inject this great sense of unease throughout the entire narrative. There was a constant air of things left unsaid—small nuances that kept the story and its characters cold and disconnected from each other. The family didn’t lack food; they didn’t have it that bad in comparison to others during their time. But some things just weren’t quite right.

Eventually all these small things become the backdrop for tragedy that destroys everything.

That’s basically it in a nutshell. Pretty depressing. It even left me feeling a little bit immobilized, like, “Why did I just read that?”

Earlier this year I found myself in great awe of how God uses the small and insignificant to do great things on the earth. But now later in the year, the same truth has hit me in the opposite direction. The small and insignificant have terrible affects too.

Perhaps the greater revelation is that God uses our small and significant to shape this world. The small and insignificant shapes the very course of our lives. Our everyday decisions are our God. And our God will shape our destiny.

Waking up early in the morning for intentional meditation and solitude.
Putting the dishes away so that your spouse doesn’t have to do it for you.
Greeting people at work in the morning instead of moving quickly to your desk, clenching a (probably oversized) cup of coffee.
Choosing to stimulate your brain with exercise, rather than looking at how many likes you’ve gotten on your most recent social media post.

These small decisions actually form who you are and how people see you in this world. These small decisions create destiny. Small things matter. They matter because people don’t just ‘happen’ in life. There’s a story behind every person. Every small decision, word left unsaid, word said too abruptly, every time matter wins over mind—these are important parts of the narrative of an individual’s life. 

“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man [or woman] took and planted his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of the garden plants and becomes a tree, so the birds come and perch in its branches.” Matthew 13:31-32

But why are small things so hard?
It is easier to grasp a big picture and find all the great injustices in it, than it is to address small awkward things in life that just don’t seem quite right.

Some examples…

The cultural misunderstanding that I just “let go” of—because its easier to “live peacefully” than to actually talk about the thing that separates us and makes everyone feel uncomfortable.

The socially impaired person in the room that everyone runs away from because they are doing something so grossly ignorant that people around the are embarrassed for them—because its easier to ignore someone and hide from them, than to look them in the eyes and tell them… you smell bad, or your tie is too high, or other people see this about you and they are being driven away from you. Are you aware of that?

Seeing the cracks in communication or the hiccups in a plan and saying something about it—wisely and with care.

Talking to your spouse or family about the small things that create tension, but must be worked through in order to bring the relationship to a deeper level.

There is no surer sign of the wise than when they encounter ignorance and choose not to ridicule but to teach. Small things are hard, because there’s not a formula for them. A person just needs to be a practitioner, there’s no way to make you get out of bed and exercise, there’s no way to disguise your vulnerability if you’re going to have a transparent conversation, you just need to do it. You need to be a practitioner of your destiny.

 …because in the end, these are the trees that we plant for ourselves (ref. Matthew 13).
Amethyst Roth

Accused. Guilty.


I live in a country that has long history of being oppressed (DRC). I come from a country that has a long history of being an oppressor. But within the U.S., I’ve always defined myself as one who has experienced oppression. I never had enough power to oppress anyone.

Sociological imagination enables us to grasp history and biography and the relations between the two within society. Its an essential element for taking people out victimization and into a place of liberation and eventually activism.

When my Congolese friends practice social imagination, it comes with grief and anger—both essential for a person's healing and liberation. It comes with recognizing the pain of their missed opportunities, their subhuman existence that the world forces them to live in and the unfairly stacked odds against them. You see, its easier to live a life not knowing what you missed, living ignorant enough to the world around you to never consider what your passport, skin color or religious denomination has cost you. And that’s how many people live. But the contemporary leader cannot live that way. In order for the Congolese to transform the world, they need to reconcile what the world is and the reality of where they are in it, no matter how painful it is.

The agonizing part is with that recognition comes a clear understanding that I, Amethyst Roth, their friend, their daughter, their co-worker: I represent one of the two parts of the society—and its not the part they represent.

I represent the oppressor. I am the oppressor.

I’ve never represented the oppressor before. I used to be the girl in school that got paper balls thrown at me for praying in the courtyard. I used to be the girl with the not-so-ideal body image. I used to be the one with no family connections that could promise me a better future. I used to be the girl that got ‘lesbian’ written about her all over the bathroom wall (back before being a lesbian was cool).

I thought I was Puerto Rican.
I thought I was on the ‘oppressed’ side of social imagination.
But I’m not. I’m the oppressor. I’m the white privilege. I’m the one who they are fighting for justice against.

Everyday, I walk the shaky tightrope of my own insecurity of being left alone, abandoned or isolated and their insecurity of being controlled, being taken for less than what they are, being colonized.

Both insecurities equally valid according to our histories and personal experiences, but both equally destructive to wholesome trusting relationships. Maybe there is something that is wrong with me and I have a deeply oppressive and dominating nature, which stems from my own past oppression. Paulo Friere said that “...the oppressed, instead of striving for liberation, tend themselves to become oppressors.” Maybe I’m not without guilt.

I constantly feel accused of being something that I’m aware I represent and I try so hard not to be.
An oppressor.
A controller.
Another hypocritical missionary that says she cares about justice but is really the antithesis of it.

But if I defend myself, I run the risk of being a colonizer. If I don’t, I run the risk of facing my own greatest insecurity—isolation. Its a deep, deep battle that I face everyday. A battle that I can’t win with my words. I don’t even know if I can win it with my actions. Will I always be the person that the people I love most must protect themselves from?

I’ve heard it said that the best way to love someone is to serve their best interests, even at your own expense. What do I have to lose? Being alone? Being abandoned? Being accused and misunderstood? Or even being guilty? Its nothing that I haven’t been through before and God vindicated me then. I have to believe that even if I hate it; even if I don’t want that to happen, God is the one who will be there to hold me even if I get the bad end of the stick. They've certainly felt the sting of vulnerability. Why not me?

 I have to believe that. And I have to accept it. Nonetheless, some cups are never easy to drink—even if they are given to us by our fathers.
Amethyst Roth

To Love at all is to be Vulnerable


I used to think that there are favorites—one's inner-circle. People you let “in” with careful concern. They are few. They are family. They are constant.

Real love doesn’t work that way.

“Who can listen to a story of loneliness and despair without taking the risk of experiencing similar pains in his own heart and even losing his precious peace of mind? In short: “Who can take away suffering without entering it?” (Nouwen, The Wounded Healer)

Real love doesn't stand just far enough away to stretch its hand down to its constituents. It flows horizontally and not vertically. And when one pours his or her heart into people; when one sacrifices for people and when one's time is spent on a certain group of people, it is almost impossible not to be vulnerable to them.

Attachments form.
Memories are made (good, bad and ugly).
You become a part of each other. The most unlikely relationships can be produced out of just living together with people.

This means that hiding myself behind a computer screen, a degree, a face full of makeup, a podium, a passport or an office desk will never replace transformative power of vulnerability over my life and the lives of others.

The richness of life is an outflow of giving everything that we have to give for the time that we have with the people who God gives us. The obstacle is not to fear what costs that come with this kind of giving.

In my short-lived life, I’ve left so many people behind and likewise, so many people have left me. Faces. Faces. So many faces.

Faces of people that I thought I would change the world with.
Faces of people who I thought would change the world.
Faces that melted my heart. Faces that gave me courage and bravery to go on.

And although I've prayed for those faces; I've even wrote songs for those faces; the faces come and they go.

The greatest miracle of God is not that he loved me in my sin. It is that he loves us all and continues to love even when we come and go. Always loving with the same passion, the same fervor—for generations, though there is nothing new under the sun that we as humans can do. He still chooses to make himself vulnerable to the freewill if humanity.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the people I’ve left behind over the years and also the people who have left me. I loved those people. I really loved those people. And sometimes when I go to bed (or when I wake up in the morning), I can just lay my head in my pillow and cry. I cry because I miss them. I cry because they walked away with pieces of my heart. I cry because I wonder if nothing will be left after X amount years in the ministry. I cry because I thought that life wouldn’t look this way. Why can’t families stay together? Why do the systems of this world and the hearts of people force people to choose sides? Did I know that living such a transient life would require my heart being poured out and carried away over and over again?

It will only be in the day when the streets are paved with gold and when the lion lays with the lamb that we'll finally be in one place, one 'house' working together. Until that day, I'll have to embrace the invisible-- believing that we are together even though we are far from each other.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” (Lewis, The Four Loves)

I'm convinced that when we are willing to live with the costs of interdependence and vulnerability, it brings a little more of His kingdom down to this earth.
Amethyst Roth

Love and Anger



I’m not sure where the line between when anger ends and rage begins, but I know that I’ve found myself dancing on that line more often than not as an adult.

I would even say that my anger has been more frequent and more intense as I have matured in love.

I love my husband.
I love my country.
I love the Church.
I love my pastor.
I love the underdogs and the misfits in this world.
I love equity and justice.
I love deep, real and raw talks.
I love words.

But yet these are all things that I have gotten particularly angry with or about, even to the point of rage. There is an interesting paradox to being a person who works to end violence in a region (that has been plagued with violence for more than 20 years) and yet has a temper that can easily (if left unchecked) erupt into violence.

I have prayed, confessed and have even been angry with myself for being angry at times. Praying away my anger has never helped. Hiding my anger has never helped.

“In your anger, do not sin. ” Ephesians 4:26 

I’ve come to the conclusion that anger is often an outflow of love that most people (even myself) have struggled to control.

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." Galatians 5:22

It’s okay to be angry about the young mother who died early because the hospital didn’t have the proper materials to deliver the baby.
It’s okay to be angry about when the Church makes rock stars out of people, while leaving others who really need love and attention sitting in the back row.
It’s okay to be angry about the fact that something can be inhibiting my ability to understand (or be understood by) the people I love most in this world.
It’s okay to be angry enough to want to show that bully what it feels like to be in another person’s shoes.

Anger is not a sin. Anger is instead like gasoline. It can be used to fuel an engine or it can be used to destroy an entire building. Anger and love are two sides to the same coin. It is an emotion that occurs when true love is being inhibited. …by injustice …by miscommunication …by mistrust ...by anything.

There are days that I get so angry that as they say in Congo, I can “burn the whole house down.” The worst part about it? Sometimes it’s hard for me to even process where the anger is coming from.
But I’m learning that the root of anger is love. Some of the angriest people that I know are the most passionate people who feel deeply, think deeply and love deeply.

This is a gift and not a curse. It is necessary that we know how to use this gift though—to channel this anger into positive action and rather than violence and coercion.

Yesterday, I was angry because I want to understand the people I work with and I want to be understood by them. But that doesn’t happen overnight. Instead of hurting them with harsh words (Proverbs 15:1)--I must channel that anger into taming my tongue, thinking from other perspectives and continuing to try no matter how misunderstood I can feel—or how much I can misunderstand others.

Anger is a tool. And when used correctly, one of the most powerful tools that I have. Because the same rage that fuels riots and terrorism is also the same rage that moves people to peaceful protest, to stand up for the oppressed and end injustice.
advice

Backstory: A God Ordained Relationship

We met Pastor Euclide and his wife, Lilian for the first time in 2009, six years ago when we first came to Goma, DRC. Euclide was a newlywed like us (married only a year before us), who was fresh out of Harvest School of Missions in Mozambique. He had just finished being trained under the Bakers' ministry and believed that he was meant to go back to his home country, where he had originally fled from the war. But God told him to go specifically to the city of Goma, a city that he had never been before.

At the time, Andrew and I were working for Overland Missions, our former organization.

I would say that all of us were excited and starry-eyed about answering God’s call on our lives and truly saw beyond all of the political, ministry-related things. We all truly wanted to see a change in Congo and we all felt specifically that Goma was the place to start out.


Andrew walking through Birere with Euclide and members
of the church ministering to children and families in 2009.
Euclide had a church with an awesome children’s ministry in Birere, the slum area of Goma. He invited us to come to a prayer meeting and after that, the children’s ministry.

This was a prayer meeting that I could never forget (and I’ve been to a lot of good prayer meetings). Children and adults were falling on the ground with words and prophecies; there was literally a WAVE that hit the church. Andrew and I just went along for the ride thinking that this was a normal prayer meeting that the church usually had.

The prayer meeting lasted for 5-6 hours! It was originally meant to last only two. We later found out that this was no ordinary prayer meeting for the church—although their prayer meetings are usually pretty intense. It just happened that the day we shared at the church, there was this massive outbreak of the Holy Spirit.

What a good way to start a relationship with this church and pastor!

Euclide and Lilian continued to be good friends to us throughout the years. We would go to conferences together, pray and worship together, preach at various locations together, even travel to surrounding countries in Africa.

I still remember in 2010, when all that Andrew and I could afford was a cheap SENKE motorbike. Euclide and Andrew went out on the motorbike together to do ministry in a pygmy village for the day. Andrew came back with the sickest stomach that I can ever remember him having. Apparently, he ate fish that had gone bad with Euclide at the pygmy village. Andrew prayed to the porcelain god (the toilet) for the entire night that night.

 In the morning Andrew called Euclide on the phone:
“Hey, how did you sleep?”
“I slept very well, Andrew and how about you?”
“How did your stomach feel?”
“My stomach is just fine.”

Andrew got off the phone and shook his head.

“One day, I’ll have a stomach like his.” He said.


Pygmies, like the ones that Euclide and Andrew went to see on that day live
among these beautiful mountains in Masisi Territory. That day, they took
Andrew's new Indian-made motorcycle on a journey that Andrew's stomach
will never forget. 




















(For full story: http://the-roths.weebly.com/2/post/2010/07/ministering-to-the-pygmies.html)

Euclide and Lilian sympathized with us when we left Overland Missions. I can remember that Euclide was the only Congolese friend that we had who actually understood what we gave up in order to pursue our vision in the Congo. He thanked us. He was the only Congolese who thanked us for that decision.

Andrew and I were there the day after Euclide’s church burnt down in Birere. We watched him and the children from the kid’s ministry look around for any pieces that they could salvage. I’ll never forget that the children were picking up stones from the ground to try and build on what was once where their church stood.

They insisted that that they should all gather for their weekly kids meeting. Euclide, in extreme stress replied… “Where? Where can we gather? There’s nowhere to gather anymore.”

We raised a large chunk of money to rebuild the church out of metal sheets and wood. We later initiated a micro-finance initiative that helped get additional funding for the church, but that was back before we really understood micro-finance… I think we helped a bit, but maybe not as much as we hoped to.

(Full story 1 http://the-roths.weebly.com/2/post/2010/07/sowing-seeds-of-sustainability.html)
(Full story 2 http://the-roths.weebly.com/2/post/2010/10/cultivating-seeds-of-sustainability.html)


Amethyst learning how to work with children in Euclides
church. It was not something she was used to. At all.
On a happier note… I also remember the time when Andrew, myself, and a guy named Sam (who is one of our monthly supporters) bought bread and juice for the kid’s ministry. We expected to feed 50 children, but almost 150 showed up. That day, God performed the same miracle like in Matthew 14 and John 6, when Jesus fed the 5,000. We gave and gave and gave… we ended up with two leftover boxes of bread and juice!

Life got complicated for us when Euclide and Lilian felt led by the Holy Spirit to join us and work together as one ministry. Euclide sent us an email that he’ll probably never forget. He told us that he’s ready to be with us exclusively.

We (Andrew and I) never responded.

I can’t really give you a specific reason why we left Euclide hanging more than three years ago like that. Maybe it was because we didn’t even really understand what we were doing… maybe it was because it felt like every pastor we would meet was asking for a partnership… maybe it was because we had so many people grasping at any chance of a relationship because of our potential to bring money into their ministry… More than anything… I feel that we didn’t answer because we didn’t know that this was God. We were (and still are) young and didn’t know how to differentiate exactly who to put our trust in.

Euclide and Lilian went through some tough times of not being able to have a child, being kicked off of the land where his church was, his house burning down, random mzungus (foreigners) coming and making promises that were never kept and even a few death threats from other jealous Congolese pastors, because of his relationship with numerous foreign missionaries.

It was around the same time that Andrew and I had really acquired the full vision for our work in Congo that Euclide signed a contract with another organization.

Somewhere around that time, I remember getting a word of advice from Shannon and Steve (board members of Global Outreach Foundation) saying that Euclide might be that partnership that sparks the wildfire (in a good way) that we have been praying for. After giving it a large amount of prayer, we felt certain that this was the partnership that God wanted us to make and were excited for the possibilities. When Andrew and I met with Euclide about a possible partnership—he told us that we left him hanging more than a year ago with no other choice than to move on to other opportunities that he was presented. He was disappointed in us, but suggested that we talk to his organization to see if they would release him to help us during times when he was not fulfilling other obligations.

We were met with heartbreak.

It was probably one of our more profound ‘balloon-popping’ moments in realizing that not all is, as it seems for ministries. We were told that it wasn't okay to work with Euclide. The fact that we even asked even caused undue tension for him and others.

Even more heartbreaking was the fact that we felt so strongly that this is what we were meant to do. Did we not hear from God? We thought that we did. But we figured since it was stirring up strife in the body of Christ… maybe we heard wrong. Still, it shook us, because we thought… if we are wrong about this, than what else could we be wrong about?

We intentionally avoided Euclide from that point (it was around 2012) onward… to be honest, seeing him was a bit painful. I can’t explain why, except to say that—in an awkward way, I felt a lot like one of those romance stories where two people are meant for each other, but life has arranged it in such a way that they could never be together… so they would just rather ignore each other, just to forget about the fact that they care too much. Oddly, Andrew also agrees… we really felt that way about Euclide and Lilian.

 “This is not about money, this is not about position, it’s not even about what we want. This is about faithfulness,” Euclide told us when we expressed to him that we wished that we’d chosen to be together from the beginning. He told us that he and Lilian also wished this too. But it wasn’t so and he had to be faithful to his word to this other ministry that he chose to be with.

During that yearlong period of silence, Andrew and I kept our communication open, but tried so hard to not seem like we were trying to ‘steal’ someone from another ministry that Euclide felt kind of like we had reneged on our friendship.

It was during 2013-2014 when ministry started getting very taxing on us. Our understanding of our own limitations grew bigger and bigger—and so was this undeniable sense of deep loneliness. We believed that God would give us a local partnership, a covenant relationship so-to-speak. But it seemed like it never came. And here we were starting programs and projects based on the vision that God gave us… but feeling very isolated in the process.

Andrew and I agreed in early 2014 that it was unsustainable to continue working in Congo alone. We needed to find partners to share the responsibility with, otherwise we would start working on an exit plan from Congo. We talked about it during our time in the US earlier this year and kept it to ourselves for the most part. We had decided that we needed a co-laboring couple to be with and that we would put the olive branch out to Euclide one last time. If we got nowhere, we were near ready to give in and find a different way to work—maybe returning to the US more frequently or something along those lines. 

When Andrew called Euclide this year, Euclide’s first words were: “Andrew, you’ve left me behind.”
Andrew’s response:
“You’ve left me too.”

Andrew and Euclide started to meet again, and this time… Euclide decided he wanted to pray about whether or not he should forge a partnership with us. He expressed how we had disappointed him before and how he had experienced many broken promises from people that he trusted. He reiterated his heart for the Church and his calling to plant churches and preach the Gospel. He explained how he felt like he couldn’t wait any longer for other people. He had to go forward with what God told him to do lest he be disobedient and get stuck doing projects for other organizations and not do what God called him to Congo for: to build the Church.

We prayed weekly as two couples throughout the summer for Euclide’s decision. Some days we went to Euclide and Lilian’s house, while other days they came to ours. They made it clear that they weren’t sure about what direction to go. We told them that whether they chose to be with us or not, that we would support that decision.

At the end of last year, both of our families felt God leading us to form a Jonathan and David relationship with each other.

Andrew and I finally grew up enough to know what we really wanted. It was relationship: deep, transparent, vulnerable, sold-out, covenant relationship and fellowship with another couple that was going in the same direction as us.


Lilian teaching Amethyst how Congolese cook
on charcoal in 2009. 
Somewhere along the lines this summer, Andrew and I really let go of our programs and agendas for Congo. Not to say that we don’t want to be here. I guess we just realized more than ever what was important. This country doesn’t need another plan or strategy for change—and that’s all we had. We were so sick of being development workers who happened to be Christians. We wanted to be Christians who develop and change the world. And we could not do this alone anymore.

I think that I can speak for all (Euclide and Lilian as well as Andrew and me) of us when I say this. 

We have been beaten around, bruised, disappointed, doubted by others, shipwrecked (vision-wise) and challenged in our family in many ways. I think that that was all necessary for this. It’s time to stop trying to walk with only one leg. Let’s put two legs together and learn to run… for the vision that God originally called us to do here.
Amethyst Roth

Fundraising Schedule Part1:FL to CA

Here is our current fundraising schedule. Part 2: our return trip is to come, stay tuned.

If we're near you, we would love to meet you. Also, if you'd like us to visit your church or small group please contact us at info@rallyintl.org or call Amethyst at 262-309-1902.




Orlando, FL - January 13-15
Kissimmee House of Prayer - Wednesday, Jan 14 - 7:00pm

St Louis, MO - January 15-17
Kirkwood, MO
St Peters, MO

Conway, AR - January 17-21
Mosaic Church - Sunday, Jan 18 - 10:30AM
Chi Alpha UCA - Tuesday, Jan 20 - 7:30PM

Dallas, TX - January 22-26

Duncan, OK - January 26-28

Oklahoma City, OK - January 28-29
No Boundaries International
Avodah House of Prayer - Thursday, Jan 29 - 6:00-9:00PM

Phoenix, AZ - January 30

Hollywood, CA - January 31-February 3
Christ Chapel of the Valley - Sunday, Feb 1 - 10:00AM

NorCal - February 3-11
Mariposa, CA - February 3-5
- Mariposa A/G - Wednesday, Feb 4 - 6:00PM

Merced, CA - February 6-11

SoCal - February 11-16
Generation Church South Oceanside - Sunday, February 15 - 9:00AM & 10:30AM
Amethyst Roth

Day in the Life


Amethyst Roth

It hurts when I breathe in deeply, because there's so much dust that filled my lungs today. I just washed a mud-like substance out of my hair accompanied by at least three unidentifiable insects that fell out in the muck. I thought I had a tan, until I washed myself and realized it was dust plastered over pretty much every centimeter of my body. I passed two UN contingents carrying seemingly enough arms to blow up the whole forest. I passed a squabble between two soldiers and civilians. I also passed a group of soldiers beating the hell out of another soldier, whose gun was thrown on the ground in front of our vehicle. I drove over it as fast as I could, trying to avoid hitting some other soldiers involved in the rough-housing. All while Andrew and the rest of the Congolese were yelling, "Drive! Drive! Drive!" at me (as if I'm seriously going to stop and stare at a bunch of angry soldiers fighting with loaded weapons?) Halos flew over our vehicle more often than usual and our return home was met with news that only 30 km from the villages that we work in, another armed group abducted scores of children who were on the way to their final exams. I say all this to say that through a seemingly chaotic day (which is actually just a normal day for us)—we had so much laughter, so many smiles and I have so much appreciation for the villages that we work in, the people we work with, the boys (even though some of them can act like punks) we work with and wouldn’t trade this job for the world.
Amethyst Roth

Sabbatical

We were blessed to go with a young adults ministry to
Steamboat Springs, Col. during our time in the U.S. 
It’s easy to say that 2013 was the best year Global Outreach Foundation’s Congo chapter has ever had on paper. We doubled in nearly every capacity: finances, personnel, logistics and of course overall ministry outreach.

But, boy oh boy did it take a toll on us.

We were thankful for the amazing people we worked with (both foreign and national) and the amazing work that God did. But somewhere around November, we felt tired. It wasn’t normal exhaustion. The days got longer. The nights got shorter. The to-do list got longer and our time spent together got even shorter. It was tough to be together and to talk or do something that was unrelated to Congo.

This usually isn’t a problem, because we usually LOVE visioneering, we LOVE talking about the people who we disciple, we LOVE planning and problem solving together. But when we started to REALLY need a break, none could be found. Even when we went on dates with each other there was no break: somehow we would end up talking about ministry related things.

What happens when the very thing you LOVE the most is the very thing you need to get away from the most?

Andrew at the the southernmost tip of Africa.
It became draining and began to really affect our marriage. It was pretty lonely for both of us: seeing things that we dreamed about coming to pass, seeing the vision move forward more than ever before, but feeling empty inside at the same time while also being pulled twenty different directions by staff, government, supporters, short-term teams, vehicle repairs, project management, traumatized teenagers, hungry disciples and all the random other things that are asked of one working in a country with so much need.

We reached out to our spiritual advisors and counselors at the end of the year. We were honest and transparent about the fact that we were on empty. They immediately surrounded us with the support that EVERY marriage and ministry needs. We went on a short vacation to South Africa and than went back to the US for a month.

Amethyst at the southern most tip of Africa.
The purpose? Rest, fellowship, and to glean wisdom from leadership at Global Outreach Foundation international. Nothing else, no support raising, no speaking engagements, just a time to gain insight and wisdom from God.

What an amazing time it was. We gained fresh direction and vision for ourselves, for each other and for the awesome people that we serve here in the Congo (DRC). 

Leadership is a heavy thing, but its not meant to be. The Bible says in Matthew 11:30 that His yoke is easy and His burden is light. When we fail to give that load to Jesus on a daily basis, we take it upon ourselves. Our human nature cannot sustain God’s standard of leadership, if we fail to keep giving our load to Jesus, we will eventually lose our shalom—the wholeness between ourselves, God, other people and the world as a whole.

I’m learning that obscurity is something that we should embrace and cherish for its time, because when times of ‘increase’ come, things get weighty. Keep the burdens on Him!

 In closing, our sabbatical time was good for everyone. We are SO proud that all the projects in Congo did not stop in our absence, the Goma Training Center was just as active as ever and our disciples continued working tirelessly (and with EXCELLENCE) while we were gone.
Us posing at the place where the Indian and Atlantic
oceans converge.

“I have to admit that we were all really nervous, when you delegated all the responsibilities to us when you left,” said Alain, one of our full-time staff. “But we all worked together and everything went well. We see that this can go forward, even without you being there.”

Putting into action this discipline of retreat has been so beneficial to us. I hope that this can explain our silence of late.

We are excited, refreshed and in LOVE with the leadership of our organization, our prayer and financial support partners and our amazing colleagues and disciples in Congo for standing behind us and BLESSING us during our sabbatical time.

 Onward and upward!
Amethyst Roth

A Labor of Love

The old adage says, "birds of a feather, flock together!" Rarely do a husband and wife work in the same domain or sector and even more rare are a couple in full-time business together. Yes, there are family businesses but those are not as common anymore either. 

Amethyst and I met on the mission field. It was not love at first sight at all! It took a long time for me to fall in love with Amethyst. Not that she wasn't an awesome, amazing, adventurous woman wishing to go to the far reaching, neglected countries of the world... but I said to her, "know that when we get married I will fall in love with you more and more day by day." Although it was strange to her, it was hard for me to love someone before being married to them.

When we got married and launched the ministry in Congo what I said came true. Not a day goes by where I don't fall more in love with her. We're two love birds doing the same profession together, trying to learn how to love like Christ. In fact, anyone who's around us long enough knows that I call Amethyst "Love" and she calls me "Dove" so together we are "Love Dove."   

I am glad we are in the same nest together. I would have it no other way.

It can be lonely on the mission field both as individuals and as a married couple. Sometimes, we don't have much to talk about other than work because it is such a big part of our lives. It's not that uncommon for us to sit there together with nothing to say, not because there really isn't much to say but because we need a break from work.

Despite our silence, we are intentional about having time together. It takes a labor of love to hold everything together: our marriage, our ministry, everything! 

Amethyst showing love and encouragement to the
"unlovables" former child soldiers on our property in Masisi 
Out of the public view, it is a daily struggle to love each other and to love others selflessly like Christ. We have to be intentional and if we aren't, things can't and won't go well. If I miss being intentional with Amethyst to love her the way that she needs to be loved and cared for, it doesn't matter whether or not 100 people come to Christ or I save 100 kids from entering the rebel militia...

If I save the world but don't preserve my marriage, to be very honest: It's all worthless. My first ministry is to my wife and family. The greatest sacrifice of love is to deeply love the one closest to me.

Pray for supernatural love through the Holy Spirit to be present in our marriage and ministry. Otherwise, we are just another couple in the "family business," living in a foreign land, helplessly trying to reach the helpless, and in the end we'll have nothing to show for our "sacrifice."
Amethyst Roth

Love Well, Hurt Well

I had the false impression that when I found the man that I would marry, the days of emotional attachment and heartbreak would be over.

After all, isn’t it during that awkward mezzanine in life of leaving our father and mother, and making our own family the time where we break hearts and have our hearts broken in search for the one?
Photo Credit: Abigail Smith Photography
This may be true.

But getting married has left me with no shortage of heartbreak. It’s only earned me someone to console and speak words of life over me, when the heartbreak comes.

I’m learning that if we are to truly love well throughout our life. Heartbreak is a part of life.

“You love so wholly.” 
“You are so present in every situation.” 
“You have so much passion.”

These are compliments that I commonly get. It’s a part of my identity, I guess. One person observed it this way.

When you’re joyful, you overflow. 
When you’re angry, you can change the atmosphere of the whole building. 
When you’re sad, you’re completely broken. 
When you love, you pour out everything that you have on who ever you’re giving that love to. 

I can’t explain what a blessing and curse this is at the same time.

When I love, I love well.
But when I hurt, I hurt so deeply.

I haven’t found a dynamic, which offers the same genuine love to someone else without the intensity of the pain when love seems to have failed them and my heart is seemingly crushed by what they have or haven’t done.

Is it possible to separate love from expectation? This is a question that I don’t have an answer to. Maybe I’m writing this post in the hopes that someone out there does and will Skype me to explain it all.

The truth is that working with people from different ministries, professions, countries and cultures has forced me to face so much of my own immaturity, insecurity and willful blindness regarding how to walk this life while dying to myself and living in Christ.

Anyway, I don’t know what this post is about except for a reflection of how short I fall in discipling myself and other people. I’m full of poor judgments, reactive thinking and I smother the people that I fall in love with.

Pray for God to refine me and define me so that I can be more effective in wasting my life for His cause. I repent for all the shortcomings, which many of you who read this blog have seen in me or will probably see in me soon.

If God can use me to at all to reach a warzone, he could use anyone.

I just wish the ‘anyones’ would come alongside and help us.

Pray also, for laborers from foreign places to come and become family: covenant relationships that will work the harvest with us.
Africa

What does love look like for 50,000 displaced people?

We need to raise $400 for on-going ministry with war refugees.

An internally displaced child shelters himself from the rain.
Congolese from the leadership-training program raised $40 for the outreach this week. These are people, who don’t have much. But they are putting their training into practice. They are going with us to the camp: being the peacemakers; the hands and feet of Jesus. We need at least $400 to make this outreach and the remainder of the leadership training to happen. The internally displaced are in need many things from medicine to food to clothes to psychological help. We want to at least have the budget to help anyone that might be in a serious crisis, based on how the Lord leads.

Andrew held multiple trainings with the leaders in the camp (who are also displaced). We are dedicated to helping these leaders heal, so that they can transfer this to the people in the camp.

Next Sunday, our disciples from the leadership-training program are bringing a choir with music to the camp. Music is extremely important to Congolese. Music lifts their spirits and the people in this camp need it.

Thanks to your generous donations, we are equipping the leaders and pastors that we are training in the camp with Bibles.

It pains me to know that there are SO many people who are suffering in this camp and that all we can offer is music, training and Bibles for the leaders along with short words of encouragement. I wish that we could do so much more. But we aren’t there yet. We need not despise humble beginnings.

We are believing that this outreach can be the extra push these people need keep going. The training for the leaders is incredibly important, because they must also push pass the trauma of being displaced. They must continue to move forward. They aren't forgotten. Their life isn't over. They have to know that.


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Amethyst Roth
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