by Siki Dlanga – A Beautiful Withness Series

My name is Sikelelwa. I am writing from the Eastern Cape where I grew up. I was fortunate that my grandparents from both sides of my family raised us up in the Lord. I was born in a world where we did not ask if God existed but as children we debated what God was like.

Was He fair? Why were white people’s lives easier and ours harder? These were the questions that filled our discussions as little children growing up during apartheid. We had no idea about apartheid or that we were living through its last days.

How we live through suffering depends on what we believe about the nature of God. It does not matter the degree of suffering. This is the only question that matters. I believed my father had been buried alive. I do not know why I believed that but this traumatised me. How could people do that to my father? I was 4 years old. We prayed and sang together as a family with all my cousins and my grandparents every night. I believed with all my heart. Sometimes, I would feel the Holy Spirit as the elders prayed or sang.

There was a sign on my grandparents’ wall written in Xhosa: “UThixo uluthando” meaning God is love.

This became the core conflict as I was unable to make sense of a world where a man is buried alive. My father was not buried alive but as a child you could not convince me otherwise. Other family deaths would follow. I would lose uncles to a car accident when I was 6 and worse, I would lose my grandmother when I was 8. My whole world. How is God love? The sentence did not even make sense. Love was a verb not something one was, I thought. Adults were poor at answering any of my questions. They seemed to know little because they were afraid to ask questions about God.

The loss of my grandmother would be the end of paradise for me. It would be the beginning of actual suffering. I moved to be with my mother. My grandmother had laid foundations of belief in God and my mother would lay the foundations to have faith to step out into the world unafraid. Life required my faith whether it was something as simple as going to and from school. Others were picked up in beautiful cars by their parents from school. My transport was prayer. I do not know how it happened but by this time I believed that God loved me. My faith and prayer were entirely dependent on that belief.

I believed that once I passed matric, my life would be easier. My life was easy for one year. The troubles escalated and intensified because I was far away from home. I was in Cape Town where I knew even less people who could help me not that I knew people who could help me in East London. My faith failed when all my praying and believing did not give me access to funding for tuition. I went through years of suffering, but I remember being full of joy and hope during all those times. I asked God for nothing because I no longer knew what to ask. None of the asking gave me breakthrough. I found joy in simply loving God. In this love I found freedom and heavenlike joy. It was the most tangible thing I knew. When one of the believers who had been watching the frustration that was my life asked: “how is it that you are not bitter?” He told me about his friend who faced the same struggles but had become quite bitter as a result. What kept me was an attitude of gratitude that I always possessed and trust in God’s good plans even when I no longer knew or understood them. There was always something to be grateful for every day but besides gratitude, God gives us a vision for our lives. God would whisper grand things in my ear every single day.  It was so loud and persistent I was certain God whispered those words to everyone every day. Years later, when things were a little easier, I realised that the grand daily whispers were gone but I still believed what God was whispering to my spirit. The whisper said: “You are going to be great.”

The sufferings of my life continued and took on different shapes, became more intense in different cities and countries. “After you have suffered a little while” the scriptures say. I might have suffered much of my life but with the view of heaven, I believe it has only been a little while.

I believe that through it all God has taught me obedience. I believe God teaches me how to glow in the dark so that the darkness no longer intimidates me. Whatever it is. It is like learning a skill and acquiring access to heavenly weapons that allow your joy to flourish even in the midst of trials. When you know the fullness of joy that Jesus has promised, no amount of suffering can drown it. I do not see suffering as something that happens during seasons. Isaiah 53 tells us about a suffering servant who is acquainted with suffering. While we are in the world it is there but it is not meant to consume us. James writes: “count it all joy when you go through various trials.” I could say that joy is the gift we receive out of suffering and during suffering if we fix our eyes on the Lord. The joy of the Lord is our strength. It is the strength we discover only if we go through trials with the Lord not by ourselves. I have known this joy my whole life, other times more than other times. Jesus is that joy.

Siki Dlanga attained her MA in Political Communication from American University in Washington DC. Her poetry books are sold on Amazon. She has addressed audiences both in South Africa and in US. She is a poet, writer, communication specialist, political commentator and creative social justice activist. Every year on 12 December 12 o’clock midday, she calls for the ringing of church bells for a minute until 12 O’clock to observe a minute of silence at 12:00 as a call for an end to Gender Based Violence in South Africa (#121212endGBV). Above all, Siki loves Jesus and will do anything the Lord asks.