Original BBC article found here.

‘Dozens die’ in Nigeria clashes

At least 32 people have been killed in a gun battle between security forces and a radical Islamist group in north-east Nigeria, reports say.

Dozens of people attacked a police station in Bauchi city but were repelled, Reuters news agency said.

The agency quoted a police spokesman as saying the militants belonged to Boko Haram, a group seeking the imposition of sharia law across Nigeria.

Islamic law has been in effect in the state of Bauchi since 2001.

AFP news agency quoted a hospital nurse, Awwal Isa, as saying that as many as 42 people had been killed in Sunday’s clashes.

One of the dead was a soldier, he said.

Dozens of people were also reported to have been injured.

The police spokesman, Mohammed Barau, said the situation had been brought under control and that members of the gang were being detained.

One gang member, who gave his name as Abdullah, told Reuters the group had retaliated because authorities had been arresting its leaders.

The man was also quoted as saying that the group wanted to “clean the [Nigerian] system which is polluted by Western education and uphold sharia all over the country”.

In February, Bauchi was the scene of clashes between Muslim and Christian communities, which left four people dead.

Nigeria’s 140 million people are split almost equally between Muslims and Christians and the two groups generally live peacefully side by side.

These are the words we were asking the students to not say to their families.

On Black Friday, while most of America was out shopping for holiday bargains, Jos, Nigeria was covered in the smoke of hatred. While our team was incredibly safe on the other side of town, we allowed the students to call home and inform their families of what the day’s events had unfolded. They were given specific things to say and not say and “political unrest” became the best phrase to communicate. There was no need to rustle mommy-feathers from the other side of the world, especially since everything was expected to be calm by night fall.

Everything was calm(er) by nightfall, but the following morning smoke clouded the horizon once again. We had learned news of continued fighting, an angry Nigerian army, more deaths and a refugee camp.

A tiny ray of light had emerged, in the middle of anger and death stood a people grieving and recognizing their great need for help. This refugee camp would be where we spent our next three days in ministry.

Within that tiny ray of light, another war was being fought. A war that could not be fought with guns and knives; a war between flesh and spirit. While surrounded by 1400 refugees, I found myself in a surge of emotion and for the first time in two years I did not want to be in Africa anymore. If you know me well, you can imagine the shock that followed that thought.

This is from my journal on November 29th: “Lord, please remove any emotions and desires from me that are not of you. Please give me wisdom and discernment in decision making and the ability to see past myself. Help and guide me to love well today. Lord, have your way with me. Father, I pray that you would protect me from sin and the lies of Satan so that I would have the ability to discern good from evil. Father, give me your heart.”

Unfortunately my desire to come back to the states had also morphed into something else. Through the grace of God, I was able to discern the difference between my longing to go home and a lack of desire to be obedient.  While I never really “came-to” with a self-driven yearning to minister to the refugees, I desired more than anything else to bring honor to Christ and, by the power of the Holy Spirit, was finally able to see past my own nose.

I walked away from that 48-hour time period in awe of how God had abundantly answered prayer. I was given a great gift that Saturday afternoon: clarity. For years, I have been pursuing Africa all while praying for clarity from God. While in Africa, through a turn of events that rocked a nation, the Alpha and Omega answered that prayer. The God that created the heavens and the earth, the God that saw fit to redeem mankind through death on a cross, the God that is above all things and holds all things together answered my piddly prayer for clarity. This almost blows me away more than the actual clarity I was given.

The best way to finish my tale is to allow you into my mind for a while. I leave you with two journal entries:

11/30/2008
November 29, 2008 was the second most impactful day of my life. Second to _____, no other day has pushed  me, stretched me and tore me apart more. As I realized that I wasn’t one with Africa anymore, part of me died. My African dream  has been a safety net, an “unmovable” force in my life. Something that took three years to build up was torn to pieces in a matter of days.

Oh, but underneath that temporary safety net we find another. One that is not swayed with the weather of life. One that is eternal. Jesus Christ. The mourning process for Africa has subsided for the evening and I am left with Christ; the Completer of my faith, the Joy of my salvation, my Peace, my King.

During the group debriefing tonight, I was reminded of where the Lord has placed my passion. While I yearn to see lost souls come to Christ and feel privileged to play a part in God building His Church, I am really excited and impassioned by the sanctification of the believers around me; discipleship.

12/3/2008
We leave today. Our home for two weeks is no longer a home, but a place we stayed in that one time we went to Africa. We drive from Jos to Abuja this afternoon and tomorrow we fly from Abuja to London. London to NYC.

Leaving is bittersweet. I do love Africa. I don’t love it enough to move here without the guidance and protection of a husband. In a way, part of me died here. I’ve had to grieve it and bury it on these plains. Part of me will always be here.

John B. was right. You can’t take a donkey, put him on a plane and expect him to be a race horse when he lands in Tokyo. If I had no passion or desire for relief-type work in the states, why would I have one here? I do think that this trip has revealed a lack of compassion in me; I need to be praying for more. Secondly, I need to pray that God would continue to grow His ordained passion in me. Discipleship and college-age women are something that God-alone has given me a fervor for. I wouldn’t have known it if I had not come here with LIFT. This passion for discipleship has been here all along, it just took a trip to the other side of the world to see it.

Some people have rocks or momentos to remind them of major life-events. I have more than a rock. Every time I see smoke in the sky, I am taken back to the time when the Peace of the world answered prayer. Every time I see a war movie or hear of political fighting I am reminded of the emotion that comes with severe, harsh pruning. I will never think of Black Friday the same way.

Some of you may remember, I went to Nigeria with the LIFT Discipleship program as their photographer. The LIFT director wrote this upon our return home and I though it was a good setup of what I’ll be writing about eventually. We experienced some pretty unusual things for a short-term vision/mission trip:

Jos, Nigeria: November 21 – December 2, 2008.

After eating turkey and stuffing and having a wonderful worship service of giving thanks for all the Lord has done and shown our group for the first week in Nigeria, we awoke the following morning to see the horizon darkened with smoke and hear riotous chaos and gunshots.  The results of the local political elections in Jos were the fuel to another wave of religious violence to the epicenter of the Muslim/Christian animosity in Nigeria.  Muslim youth initiated another time of terror for Jos, similar to an outbreak in 2004, and its darkest waste of human life back in 2001 just days before 9/11.  Although this crisis received very little international attention compared to the terrorist attack in India, it was no less of a tragedy with an unofficial count of over 400 deaths, many more injured, and many homes and businesses burned. We could see many people fleeing from the senseless violence trying to find safe shelter after their houses and neighborhoods were burned.

After a week of helping in various orphanages, our itinerary for ministry changed from assisting with medical outreach to a village an hour away to the refuge camp that formed across the lake in front of where we were staying.  Over 1,500 demoralized and fearful people, many of them now widows and orphans, found refuge at the United Nations campus that is now being used for Drug Enforcement Training for Nigeria.  Our LIFT (Leaders in Further Training) team of 19 students and staff joined the Pro Health International medical staff to treat both physical and psychological trauma that resulted from the terror and killings that happened on the other side of the city.

What was intended for evil and destruction, the Lord faithfully turned to good.  The team of over 40 Christians worked long hours to serve both the Muslim and Christian victims by providing medical treatments, medications, minor surgeries, HIV/AIDS education, prayer and evangelism, and other capacities.  College students kept the children occupied with games and songs complete with hand motions as there was much waiting in long food lines three times a day.  New shoes and shirts were distributed and a hundreds of children participated in multiple mini games of soccer and basketball.  About 30 widows received a monetary gift to help with their transition back to life after the riots.

Through only God’s hand allowing access, we joined with Peter Sorenson’s African Prison Ministry and again, Pro Health International to spend a day in the Jos prison showing God’s love through medical care, prayer, and evangelism.  There is no better demonstration of the freedom Christ brings from the chains of sin than with inmates condemned to death row who know Jesus yet walking in the joy and hope He brings.

Much was done in a very short time to provide relief to people in desperation.  Over the last five years my focus has been long-term sustainable community development and transformation for effective ministry among the poor.  The Lord has humbled me once again to show me the vital importance of using 5 loaves and 2 fishes to bring immediate physical, psychological, emotional, and spiritual relief to people broken and hurting.  I can honestly say that just as Jesus purposed 12 heaping baskets of fish and chips to increase the faith of each of His previously doubting disciples, we also saw how He could use any of us if we just give Him all we have and trust Him to multiply it.  This is the kind of math no school can teach us – only that learned by being His disciple.  My prayer as we left the broken and charred neighborhoods of Jos is that we would grow in faith from the bounty of His fruit that we witnessed and that Jesus would again provide full baskets in the lives of those left still having to put their lives back together with the help of the local churches and ministries.  Despite the onslaught of waves of evil in this world, God’s love always prevails, overcomes, and sustains.  It is the Rock that cannot be moved and the Kingdom that continually advances to replace this broken world of sin.

We learned so much from our dear Christian brothers and sisters from Nigeria as we worked alongside them and observed their passion for Christ, patience amidst trials, overflowing generosity, and service to the needy.  Thank you Ardills, Iko, Esther, Juliet, Paul, Josephine, Ajan, Tony, the rest of the Pro Health Team and all the staff who have given themselves to work tirelessly with the many orphans at the Gidan Bege (House of Hope)  homes.

As I look out on the cold snowy landscape here in Speculator, remembering all God has done these past two weeks across the Atlantic in the most populous African nation, I will conclude with this last thought from our theme song (Let Us Adore) that has been so relevant this whole semester, especially in Nigeria.

“HE IS OUR GOD – THERE IS NO ONE ELSE!”

–Tim Trezise, LIFT Director

Family & Friends,

As many of you know, I’m traveling to Nigeria next Wednesday with the LIFT Discipleship program. How the trip came about is a whirlwind of a story, but for now, I’m merely writing you asking for prayer.

There are 16 students in the program and every semester a new group of students takes a two-week mission trip to open their eyes to what mission work is like in other cultures. We’ll be traveling to visit 3 missionaries and joining them in their ministries for 16 days.

My main job on the trip is to act as the photographer/videographer and capture the significant events and emotions. Secondarily (or primarily, depending on who you talk to), I will be the female leader, taking care of all the matronly needs of the group.

While those are both tangible needs I’m meeting for the LIFT group, the main reason for “tagging along” is purely personal. As someone who aspires to be a missionary in Africa one day, this trip will be more than work-related. I will be filtering everything I see and observe in Nigeria through my “what will it be like to live here?” filter.

We will travel from Speculator to NYC on Wednesday the 19th and fly out on the 20th. From NYC, we’ll fly to London and then from London to Abuja, Nigeria. From there we will travel 4 hours south to Jos, Nigeria. Jos will serve as our “home base” for the rest of the trip. We will return to the States on December 4th.

The students, our fearless LIFT leaders and I will be traveling around observing and engaging in the different ministries of the Ardill family, working with Pro Health International and their medical outreaches, helping with African Prison Ministries and even traveling overnight to and orphanage.

Please pray for us! Pray that as a team, we would be able to lay our differences aside and approach each day with a heart to serve in any capacity necessary. Pray that our eyes would be open to the lessons that the Lord would have for us. And that we would not be clouded by our own selfishness to miss the opportunities before us to live and share Christ with the people of Nigeria and each other. Specifically, please pray for me as my responsibilities are torn between leading and observing, that I would know how to wear both hats in a Christ-like manner.

Thank you, your prayers have already meant so much already. I anticipate the Lord answering more!

Back when I first saw the images that would soon find their way into A Hope in the Dark, my heart was stirring for something bigger but was unsure of what direction to point itself in. As images of African orphans and desolate African communities filled my computer screen, my heart began to solidify a bearing. While part of it was gospel-centered, my original main motivation to be a missionary in Africa was merely to replicate those images that affected me so. I wanted to go to Africa to take pictures.

It has been years since I’ve first laid my eyes on those images and my heart for missions hasn’t run away from me. Thankfully, sanctification has brought me from a photographic selfishness to a true, gospel-driven desire to boldly proclaim Him and share His love tangibly with those in need. And while that heart could be led anywhere willingly, there is  a special place in my heart for Africa.

Patience has now brought me to this place. I have been thinking about a short-term trip to the great continent for a little over a year and started pursuing such since spring. The intention was never to go with a group larger than three, but through a series of very clear, closed doors I found myself staring at a solo pilgrimage. Though my purpose in going alone was to get a complete grasp of life in West Africa, I still needed help planning. A mere five days after asking for help I found myself sitting with a tangible, I-need-shots-asap trip to Africa in my lap. With 18 other people.

To be honest, the mental and emotional transition from preparing a solo trip to allowing a trip for 19 people to built for me was hard. All of a sudden my “pet” trip, that I had been holding, feeding and taking care of, had turned into a zoo exhibition that I could just watch from the other side of a cage. I lost control of my pilgrimage and my emotions were unsure of what to make of themselves.

Through a series of conversations I had come to realize that my lack of excitement and borderline rebellion over the trip was merely a struggle for control. This was no longer my trip, ready for me to plan. Through the context’s of God’s amazing provision, I was face to face with a valuable lesson: the control was never mine to start with.

So I sit here this evening, still waiting for the emotional excitment of international travel to seep in, but cannot seem to muster it up just yet. Instead, I am in complete awe of God. He is good. He is faithful. He is worthy of my trust and worship. Maybe my lack of excitement isn’t there because a trip to Nigeria pales in comparison to the glory of God; it is His glory I am overwhelmed with right now.

Despite my desire to do things alone, He has given me the gift of community. Despite my desire to navigate the waters of Nigerian government, He has given me a first timer’s, folly-proof, bird’s-eye-view of the visa process. Despite my desire to excercise faith in finances, He has given me the opportunity to excercise it in new and unexpected areas.

And the coolest: Despite my heart’s desire to serve in whatever capacity needed, He has gifted our group with a need for a photographer.

My first African dream was to go and replicate images. 2 years later, my longing has moved on to more selfless, gospel-honoring things and the Lord has chosen to gift me with so much. He is knitting my first trip to Africa together so perfectly and it is all geared towards His glory. By His grace I intend on honoring that.

Lord, help me.

More actual detals to come soon…

From Wikipedia: Nigeria, officially named the Federal Republic of Nigeria, is a federal constitutional republic comprising thirty-six states and one Federal Capital Territory. The country is located in West Africaborders with the Republic of Benin in the west, Chad and Cameroon in the east, and Niger in the north. Its coast lies on the Gulf of Guinea, part of the Atlantic Ocean, in the south. The capital city is Abuja. and shares land

Nigeria is the most populous country in Africa and the eighth most populous country in the world with a population of over 140 million. It is a regional power and it is also listed among the “Next Eleven” economies. The economy of Nigeria is one of the fastest growing in the world with the International Monetary Fund projecting a growth of 9% in 2008 and 8.3% in 2009.^[3][4][5][6]

From Sending in Mission: Nigeria is Africa’s most populous nation with 140 million people, and is one of its most influential countries. Though the country is rich in natural resources, most Nigerians are in economic distress. About 470 languages are spoken in Nigeria. English is the official language. The constitution guarantees religious freedom.

The founders of the “Soudan Interior Mission” arrived in 1893, called to reach Nigeria’s far north with the Gospel. Not until the late 1930s, however, was missionary work permitted in this area. A center was established in central Nigeria in 1902. Since then, SIM has worked in over 30 Nigerian language groups. The Evangelical Church of West Africa (ECWA), growing out of SIM’s work, claims more than 6,000,000 worshippers. The church is engaged in theological education, medical work, radio, publishing, rural development, urban ministries, and cross-cultural missions. Over 1,600 missionaries from ECWA churches serve with ECWA’s Evangelical Missionary Society (EMS), both within and outside Nigeria.

SIM Nigeria’s goals include increasing the numbers of adequately supported Nigerian missionaries and motivating believers to get involved in evangelism. We seek ways to increase the number of pastors and church members who are involved in effective discipleship within their congregations. Increasing the numbers of competent Nigerian health workers committed to compassionate evangelistic witness is a goal, as is supporting the church’s involvement in care for the suffering and marginalized, especially among AIDS patients and orphans. Finally, we are developing our capacity to support Nigerian missionaries.

In recent years our work in Nigeria’s far north has been neglected. We now wish to expand our SIM base there, to assist and support the work of the church in evangelism and discipleship. This is a challenge, given the area’s climate and deeply Islamic traditions.

While we aren’t going over with SIM, we will be working closely with their ministries in Nigeria. For those of you who care and have the time, there is a 20 minute video on what they’re doing out there.

Wednesday, August 20. 2008
until you reached this place

As days go by here in Liberia, I find myself realizing that I’m possibly a real grownup now. Don’t tell any of the myriad kids I play with every chance I get, but I don’t think I am one of them any longer.

I think the straw that broke my proverbial back (not that I’m a camel or anything; the metaphor just seemed to fit) was getting this poster in the mail. Go ahead and click on that bright red square and you will see the reason I’ve had to say goodbye to my childhood once and for all. It’s not really anything spectacular, nothing but a piece of posterboard with kids’ signatures scattered across it in black marker. But if you look up there at the top, you’ll see a little card with a photo and an address on it. It just happens to be me. Ali Wilks. Missionary.

I’ve gone to the same church since I was about two years old. Ever since I can remember, Mr. Don has been leading Vacation Bible School in the summers. Every year there was a missionary of the week, someone he would tell us stories about and someone we would pray for. And every time we would sign a poster that Mr. Don promised to send to the missionary in question; I’ve probably signed close to twenty of those posters. This year, it was me. I was that missionary, and I sent stories back to be read to the kids each day and I totally forgot about the poster thing until it showed up in the mail a week or so ago. When I pulled it out of the envelope and unfolded it across the floor of my cabin, I was overwhelmed with what I can only describe as the absolute weight of my calling and the unmistakable realization that I’ve grown up.

I’ve spent my life hearing stories about missionaries. The last Wednesday of every month sees my whole church in the basement, eating potluck casseroles and listening to a different warrior of the faith from some far-flung corner of the world. I sat there, enthralled, promising my grown-up, future self that I was going to be a missionary. Going to live in Africa and take care of those laughing, dark-eyed children. Going to let God use me however He felt like it.

I knew he was telling me that I’d go. Somewhere, someday. I guess I just didn’t completely believe that He was serious.

And so, of course, because that’s what happens when you doubt God, here I am. I’m that girl, the one who grew up and became a Nurse In Africa, which needs to be capitalized because I always thought it was such a big deal. And now that I’m here, I realize that missionaries aren’t anything special. Not really. And neither are grownups; they aren’t the superheroes I’d always made them out to be, because if they were, there’s no way I could be one. They’re just people. People who laugh and worry and do things right and do things wrong and somehow get through each day more or less intact.

I thought growing up and becoming a missionary would feel different, somehow. I figured I’d get to some magical point where I felt qualified to make decisions that affect the entire course of my life. And where being in charge of someone else’s life while they lie helpless in a hospital bed wasn’t flat-out scary. Where I’d know what to say and when to say it and then I’d be grown up.

Instead here I am. Just as petrified as the day I heard that still, small voice tell me not to get too comfortable in the States. And just when I’m ready to pack it all in, to throw up my hands in surrender and retreat from this strange world of responsibility and adulthood, that same voice whispers to me again.

There you saw how the Lord your God carried you, as a father carries his daughter, all the way you went until you reached this place. (Deuteronomy 1:31)

These waters are not so uncharted as I’ve made them out to me. A wiser mind than mine is laying plans. Stronger hands than mine are guiding me.

And a deeper heart than mine is loving through me.

Sunday, July 20. 2008
pouring out

My Granny just wrote me an e-mail and asked for an update on Baby Greg. It’s funny, really- I’ve lost sight of the fact that there are people in the world who don’t eat, sleep and breathe this situation. People who have to wait and read a blog entry before they know what’s going on. I’ve become so entangled in his small life that I don’t know that I’m ever off duty anymore. It’s draining, and I know I’ve said this before, but I’m tired. I watch my fellow nurses getting days off and playing with their patients and having fun at work, and I’m wishing myself back to the days when my biggest worry was whether or not my little ortho patient was going to wipe out on her crutches.

Baby Greg has been up and down the past few days. He rarely has two good shifts in a row, but he’s starting to gain weight and his breathing is markedly improved when he’s able to tolerate being off the CPAP. (A photo of which I have included just so my esteemed PICU colleagues can laugh at my creation; it might not be pretty, but it gives him PEEP!) His g-tube isn’t leaking like it used to, and we’re working on getting him a different one from the States. He needed a transfusion yesterday; the charge nurse jumped at the chance, left the ward to donate and then came back to finish her work just feet away from where Greg was receiving her blood. The ship has taken Baby Greg under their collective wing, praying for him non-stop, twenty-four hours a day. All these little details and myriad more swirl and mix and have become second nature to me; reciting them comes as easy as breathing.

Phil came to visit the ward last night and hung out with Baby Greg for a little while. I was talking about it all with him over cinnamon toast at some point during the shift (which has stretched on so long I’ve absolutely lost all concept of time). Ever pragmatic, he just patted me on the back and told me not to worry. I can see why you’re attached to him. It makes sense when he looks at you like he does. But just keep serving. You’ll find your inspiration again.

Right now, I have to smile. Because it just happened. He’s had a good night, honestly. He’s slept comfortably most of the time, only thrown up once and never had the panicked look of a baby who can’t get enough air. (That look breaks my heart every single time he brings it out.) About an hour ago, he decided to wake up and be angry. I changed him and patted his back and snuggled him on his side and did all the things he usually likes. No dice. So I climbed into his bed and pulled him into my arms. Whereupon he put on little hand on my chest and immediately fell asleep. And I was left there in the dark, my heart a puddle in my chest.

I’m in Africa in the first place because God told me to pour out my soul. To kick over my heart and let everything spill out. I remember talking about this with my youth group girls last year. We all came to the conclusion that we should go to bed every night absolutely empty, completely poured out on the world and relying on God to fill us up again for the next day. I’m wondering whether or not this is the first time I’ve really managed to do it.

Click here to read the final update on Baby Greg.

Stop it.

Love, Me

One of the other reasons I recommend this book is because it makes one very aware of the Muslim culture throughout the world. Her explanations of Islam in Africa were incredibly enlightening and engaging for me. As I have been praying about where to travel to Africa this fall, I’ve felt my heart breaking for West Africa, which Islam is growing rampant in. Needless to say, I’ve been doing quite a bit of studying and praying. I would be lying if I told you that the idea of ministering to women in a closed, Muslim country doesn’t strike a bit of fear in me. But, ignoring the Lord’s calling on my life should (and does) instill a greater fear, so study I must. Hence this series.