I remember it well! It was 11AM and the weight of the Kenyan midday heat weighed heavily on my shoulders. Abba’s Mama Mia was playing on the car radio. It is funny the little details one remembers! It was just another ordinary Monday, or so I thought. I was cruising along the Nairobi highway; suddenly I had to come to an abrupt halt. I found myself surrounded by a group of angry young men who shouted, “nipe, nipe” (give me, give me!). There was a cold gun firmly pressed to my head. A fearful shiver ran down my back. I froze. I had read about carjacking in Nairobi. But it happened to other people. Now the brutal reality was mine. I tightened with fear. I was being car jacked! In a fleeting moment I thought about escape, to run, to shout; however, I felt totally unable to do anything. I felt numb, locked in confusion and powerless.

Glimpses of my life flooded my mind. In one brief moment I thought, “O my God it’s over.” Awkwardly, they pulled me out of the car. Stripped me of all my belongings and shouted, “give me, give me!” I handed over all I had. They were not happy, I could see. They spoke in their mother tongue for some time. The situation was now at a dangerous point. Maybe just for seconds they continued arguing; however, for me it seemed a lifetime. The waiting was unbearable, for I did not know their intensions. They were indeed disturbing moments. Swiftly, they threw me to the ground, kicked me, hopped in my car and drove off.

I share the drama of this event with you because never in my life was my faith tested to its limit and endurance. All I could say over and over again as the cold gun was tightly held to my head, “O my God, it is over.” This was my profession of faith! In those few seconds between the tick and the tock my faith became my very own. It grew up quickly and matured into a simple mantra. I came home to God.

I think prior to this disturbing experience my faith was rather cozy and remote. The shock of that dark day jolted me into a more profound and deeper meaty kind of faith.

In a worrying moment, on a dusty Kenyan road, my second hand faith was born again and incarnated into my life in a whole new way! A painful experience transformed an impoverished dreamy faith into a raw faith with conviction and commitment. In many ways I had gathered and inherited my faith from many people, culture, parents, and teachers. My faith was like “hand me down” second hand clothes. I never really owned it for myself. Now I did!

However, physically and mentally this disturbing event had a shadow side. It affected me psychologically but I continued to work on. I often found it difficult to sleep or relax because the dreaded scenario played itself again and again in my mind.

Later, I was to experience something similar when the post election violence in 2006/2007 rocked the country of Kenya into chaos and lawlessness. It was a highly insecure time and I felt vulnerable and in danger again. I was held under house arrest for several days and my life threatened again. Another anxious time that chipped away at my sanity.

Why do I share these dark days of my life with you? Because they are highly connected to my being here today.

When I returned from East Africa last May, I did not feel well. I felt empty, spent and burnt out! Something had stolen everything from within me. It had taken my heart and soul. It ripped all my zest and passion for life. Something had consumed me and it hurt.

I tried to be strong and carry on, but deep down I knew something was seriously wrong. I went to my doctor and was diagnosed with clinical depression. I was shocked at what I heard and tried to hide this from my superiors and even myself, because of the stigma associated with depression and mental illness. I tried to block it out. Now I am aware it is an illness, sometimes a silent and invisible one, but a reality to be faced.

When I came here at first for holidays, you healed me and strengthened me beyond belief. You drew me out of myself and empowered me beyond my own helplessness. My self over-concentration was broken by coming outside of myself. This rich community facilitated this. Your warmth, friendship and care calmed this wounded man. You made me feel ordinary again by giving me new strength. You firmed up the fragile within me and generated wholeness and good health through the therapy of good community living.

I return again because my superiors advise me to take one year to rest and time to process my personal issues before I return to mission. They suggested London/Dublin, but I reflected on this and insisted they move the compass so I could navigate my own healing path. I pointed it towards Christ the King! Why? Because you parallel the meaning of today’s gospel. You not only provide a cup of water but a quality cup, full to the brim with generous hospitality, possibility and inclusiveness. You provide human stepping-stones for one to feel so ordinary, thus encouraging transparency and openness.

You filled me once before with something I understand but cannot explain. You filled me with a sense of love! I return again to this strong community to receive once again, but hopefully to give too!

Thank you! Amen.