Homecoming

This past Saturday I assisted at the funeral of a young woman—she was 29. Her baby had been delivered stillborn six weeks before. Due to complications from the birth, she went into a coma. She died on January 2. A week prior to that I assisted at the funeral of a young man—26—the victim of a gang-related shooting in the township of Bonteheuwel where I have been based. I also recently visited the Slave Lodge Museum which chronicles the history of slavery in the Cape, as well as the struggle against apartheid in later years. On Wednesday I will visit Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 18 of his 27 years of incarceration. These events circle in my mind, connected somehow. What is the thread?



As I near the end of my time here in Cape Town I have mixed feelings; I am ready to come home and start a new semester at seminary, but I also feel like a part of me will always remain in Cape Town. The ministry work that I’ve been able to participate in here has been absolutely invaluable—an experience that will continue to inform me long after the plane touches down at JFK on January 21st, long after ordination, and beyond. Life-changing. I am so grateful to the Seminary Consultation on Mission for choosing my ministry proposal and awarding me the grant which enabled me to travel here to serve God alongside the people of Bonteheuwel township at the Church of the Resurrection. One of the friends I made here said last Sunday about my ministry at the church, "We put you in the deep end, and you did the backstroke!" High praise, indeed. I thank God for the courage and grace to serve. Having the experience of serving within the Anglican Communion in Cape Town makes me excited for the future of the church in South Africa, and beyond its borders. I'm excited for my future priesthood and where God will have me minister to his people. The practical church experience coupled with the exploration of Cape Town and the beautiful natural surroundings has made such an




impression on me that one of my Uber drivers just flat-out said, “I think you just need to move here!” He might be right. Cape Town—nicknamed “The Mother City”— with its difficult history, beautiful landscape, challenging problems, spirit of celebration, struggle for justice, fascinating culture, deep pride and wisdom and faith of its people is a tough one to let go of.


But more than that, it has been the stories of people that I’ve heard, been a part of and witnessed, and have allowed to settle in my soul. The stories of the lives I’ve been honored to know about. That’s the enduring thread for me. Each story of apartheid, each celebration, each discovery, each loss has instilled a new understanding, a new beginning, a richness within me. It has reminded me that God is present in it all— tempests and all. All you need to do is look up at Table Mountain to remember that all of it—the mysterious mix of life, death, struggle, joy and triumph— is all being held together by the One who created that glorious, majestic and marvelous massif. Table Mountain is a symbol of Cape Town, rising up from the landscape, strong and brilliant and dignified. Leaving will be hard, but I can just imagine the homecoming when I return—my mountain will welcome me back with open arms.