Oh Lord, my God is good.
It was my birthday, and my friends and I sat huddled in the basement of our church, talking softly and waiting anxiously for something, though I did not know what. At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, everyone in the room fell silent. But the sound escalated suddenly as a young man appeared in the doorway—Sammy! He’s alive! As an outsider, not knowing this man or his situation, I sat perplexed by the excitement that replaced the tense, nervous feeling in the room. Seeing my confusion, the young man—Sammy—sat down and began to explain:
The provincial city of Eldoret, Sammy’s hometown, stood at the center of Kenya’s social upheaval and ethnic violence. In 2007, the Kenyan presidential election had reawakened significant tensions between tribal groups throughout the country, most significantly between the Kikuyu and Kalenjin peoples in Eldoret. A number of Kalenjin in the area began to systematically attack their Kikuyu neighbors, forcing them to flee their homes. Indeed, during the first days of January the New York Times ran the story of fifty Kikuyu women and children who were brutally murdered as they hid in a church, calling for international action in the town.
Sammy is Kikuyu. He and his family had hoped their Kalenjin friends would protect them, but as the violence crept closer they were forced to run. When Sammy and his family arrived at the city police station, his mother realized that she had forgotten the suitcase containing all of their important documents: birth certificates, tax information and photographs. Weighing the importance of the documents against the dangers outside the police compound, Sammy decided to make the ten-mile trek to his home on foot to collect the suitcase.
As he was leaving his home again with the precious documents, Sammy heard the familiar voice of his Kikuyu neighbor calling his name. As he looked up, he heard a more ominous sound coming from behind him. Turning to face the sound, Sammy froze at the sight of the approaching mob. An angry cry from the mob roused him, sending him running towards the back of his already fleeing neighbor. Sammy quickly caught up with his neighbor, who was beginning to tire. The man motioned that Sammy should keep going and leave him behind. Sammy obeyed, and seconds later the mob overtook the man and cut him down with machetes.
Tears streaming down his face, Sammy ran blindly until exhaustion forced him to slow. Hearing footsteps and fearing they might belong to the mob, he scrambled down the embankment and found shelter in a nearby culvert. For seven hours he waited, crouching in the muddy water and clutching the precious suitcase to his chest as he listened to passing footfalls on the road above. By the grace of God, night fell quickly and the darkness allowed Sammy to safely creep from his hiding place and make his way back towards the police compound. When he entered the station, his mother burst into tears—Uhai! You are back from the dead!
Later, Sammy learned that his home had been destroyed, his family’s business burned to the ground, his peaceful life erased by his own neighbors. His family’s future and his own were uncertain. They lived in a displacement camp under the constant threat of starvation, separation and renewed violence. And yet Sammy radiated joy, peace and hope.
While I was in Kenya, I heard many stories like Sammy’s that left me wondering if I could survive in such circumstances. And yet these people did so much more than merely survive. They lived and loved as if they had everything that they needed. Surrounded by violence, uncertainty and war, they endured because they sought after a God Who is able to redeem even the most horrible things of this life and somehow return good. In God alone they found their abundant life, their security and their peace. Through their lives, I have come to redefine “good” not as safety or comfort but as an intimate knowledge of the God Who is good.
Our God’s goodness is vast beyond all measure, just as His power is omnipotent and His knowledge, omniscient. But He is not only good in an impersonal, universal sense far beyond our finite understanding; He is and desires our individual, our personal good. Indeed, Jesus declared our good to be the reason for His incarnation, stating, “I have come that you might have life, and have it abundantly.”i As His creatures, we all thirst deeply for what is good, and only in Him can our desire ever be fully satisfied.