Part 4: Whiteclay

... a tiny unincorporated town given to alcoholism and to poverty, to crime and tragedy and filth. This is where we spent the majority of our time during our trip, in a tiny Nebraska border town with a population of about 20. The southern gate to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation of South Dakota, only yards away from the state line.


What is the significance of this town? I did not realize much until I returned home and began doing some research on my own. But this is the town where 555 Whiteclay, the ministry that we worked with under Bruce Bonfleur, is located. I have mentioned this before, but there is not much beauty in Whiteclay. You drive up state highway 87 until you think you are almost in South Dakota... then you pass by four liquor stores, two convenience groceries, and 555 Whiteclay. Half a mile later, you are on the reservation.


The sides of the road are littered with broken glass and all manner of trash. Even the grass along the highway is sparse and brown along this small stretch of road. You can see a couple of houses as you pass through--I do not know if they are inhabited, but with broken windows and rotting siding, they appear as if they should be condemned and bulldozed to the ground.

Why does a town of 20 people need four liquor stores? Well, Pine Ridge is a dry reservation, but its people have been known for alcohol abuse. The location of Whiteclay, just inside the state of Nebraska and outside the reservation, makes it a prime location to sell liquor to the people on the reservation. I don't know what current statistics are, but in 2003 the four stores were selling a cumulative 11,000 cans of beer a day to Indians on the reservation--about $4.5 million dollars' worth of beer. The reservation is home to about 15,000 Lakota... These are staggering numbers to me. In talking with Bruce and some of the Lakota in town, I got the sense that these people truly hate the hold that alcohol has over some of their own--but what are they to do? They feel hopeless, and I have to admit that when I was there I experienced moments of hopelessness myself. I had to remind myself that God loves these people so much, and aches for them... and that God is a refuge and strength, and an ever-present help in trouble. I believe He will fight for these people, as more and more begin calling out to Him on their behalf.

Alcoholism was never part of His purpose for them, but it ensnares so many. I had the opportunity to talk to several Lakota men, one of them in jail for a DUI sentence, and their words left such an impact on me because of their hopelessness. They do not love alcohol; they love their homes and their children and their people, and they long to change but see no way out of their situation. The man in jail said that he wanted to clean up, but he doesn't think he ever will. He says he is not strong enough. We were able to tell him that he isn't strong enough, but that God is. A Lakota woman who was with us, a woman who used to be an alcoholic but sobered up and surrendered her life to God, was able to share her story of hope with him. We were able to pray for him... and we are able to continue praying.

There is an old prophecy of the Lakota which states that the Black Hills would be taken, and for seven generations they would be without their sacred land. The people of the seventh generation are the ones who, according to prophecy, will rise up as leaders, and mend the sacred hoop which represents the continuity of the Lakota people. Then would the Black Hills be restored to the Lakota.

The Black Hills were taken from the Lakota nation in 1877. According to the way that the Lakota count their generations, today's generation is the seventh. Now is the time for people of strength and integrity to rise up from within the tribe, and restore the hope and the unity of their people. As we were there, I really sensed that God wants to move in a powerful way in Whiteclay and in Pine Ridge... and He is just waiting for people to cry out for it.


Despite all the trash and the barrenness of Whiteclay, the town does have one place where beauty is invited to exist--the Green Tipi Gardens, a tract of land held by the ministry and given back to God. There will be vegetable gardens, and flower gardens, and running water... it will be a place of serenity. We were fortunate enough to help start that, and I know that God will develop it into a place where He can dwell, at the southern gate to the reservation. May it help bring the light of hope and truth to the Lakota people, and may this generation rise up and overcome for their people, and begin to lead them to a better existence. May the Lakota become who they were intended to be!

Part 3: My land, not your land

The Black Hills of western South Dakota have always been a sacred place to the Lakota people. Their Lakota name, Paha Sapa, means "the heart of everything that is." In 1868, the U.S. signed the Treaty of Fort Laramie which guaranteed that the Black Hills would remain Sioux land. However, less than a decade passed before rumors of gold in the Black Hills led our country to revoke that promise. In 1877, after several land disputes had led to battles between the U.S. government and the Sioux nation, Congress signed a bill that forced the Lakota to sell the Black Hills, their sacred lands, and return to their reservations.

One of those mountains, known to the Lakota as "The Six Grandfathers," was renamed in 1885 after a New York lawyer, Charles E. Rushmore, during a gold expedition. According to Wikipedia, Rushmore saw this mountain and asked its name; his companion said "Never had any but it has now--we'll call the damn thing Rushmore." In 1927, to increase tourism in the Black Hills, the carving of the Four Faces began.


Our trip took us unexpectedly to Mount Rushmore, which is a celebrated monument of our nation's government that should never have been carved. Our government broke its promise to these people by taking this land from them, land that they knew as sacred. Then we defiled that land by carving faces that represent our government which had so wronged the Lakota people. As I stood and looked at this monument, faces carved in stone of people that our country reveres so highly, I could not justify it in any way. Is it offensive to God? I am in no position to judge, but my gut tells me yes--it does not revere Him in any way, and the story behind it is a tale of gross injustice committed against a people that He loves. And from a purely aesthetical standpoint, who are we to think that we can add value to the natural world by carving up these beautiful hills? Sad, on so many levels. And I am thankful that I was able to see it, if only to rouse this sense of injustice inside of me.

Part 2: Brothers and sisters

A theme that arose from our mission trip was that of unity. In many ways, the Lakota are disunified--those who live in poverty, sadly, do what they can to keep others from overcoming. They would rather see everyone remain stuck in the same miry condition than to allow talented and ingenuitive individuals rise up to something better. If a few could overcome the poverty and the addiction, then it could really be a springboard for change within the whole tribe--and there are many talented artists, storytellers, and entrepreneurial minds among the Lakota. But the masses put great effort into keeping these individuals out of work, and they scorn one another for their successes... and it makes me sad not only for those who are being oppressed, but for their oppressors as well, who are indirectly perpetuating their own oppression.

These are the words that we shared with the Lakota community in Whiteclay. I may have been the messenger, but the message was the Lord's.

All of us on this earth are God's people... and though we are many and varied, God designed us all, and desires for us to live in peace and to be unified through Him. Psalm 133 declares, "How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity!" We are the brothers and sisters, and it is God's Spirit that can bring us--each family, the whole of the Lakota people, and every tribe and nation of the world--together in Him.

The tradition of the Three Sisters--corn, beans, and squash, grown together in a single plot of land--began out of the understanding the Indians had of a need for unity between the crops. Corn stalks grow strong and tall, providing a support for the beans, which need something sturdy to climb. The beans, in return, support the corn stalks, and they add their nitrogen to the soil so that future generations of corn might have the nutrients they need to prosper. Spiny squash vines run along the ground, defending the entire garden from predators. Their shallow roots keep the soil moist so that nothing dries out.

The Three Sisters portray a beautiful picture of the unity that God intended for all His creation--most importantly for us, His people.

But what if the corn, towering over the squash and beans, blocked them from receiving the sunlight? What if the beans climbed the corn stalks to pull the corn down? What if the squash vines tangled and choked the corn and the beans? If the crops lived in competition and strife, they would destroy each other. And they would ultimately destroy themselves too, since none of the Three Sisters can prosper without the help of the others. If each tried to pull its sisters down, then none would thrive.

So it is with God's people. We are all brothers and sisters through Him, and He says that it is good and pleasant for us to live in unity. Envy, strife, anger, jealousy, are seeds that our enemy sows to try and bring division among us in our homes and our communities, to choke out our love and concern for each other.

But our Lord Jesus commanded us to love one another, just as He loves us. He demonstrated that love in His life on earth, and in His sacrifice on the cross for each of us. When we love each other as Jesus taught, then we do not pull each other down--instead, we lift each other up and help each other grow.

This is unity that God declares good and pleasant--and our unity as brothers and sisters in God our Father brings greater abundance of life to all of us.

While we were there, God used us to turn this:


Into this:


What began as a solidly packed hill of dry, flaked earth, permeated with weeds and lifeless, rotting tangles of grass roots will become a Three Sisters garden, at the southern border of Whiteclay. As we dug weeds which were anchored deep into the fallow ground, as we tilled the soil and broke up the rocky hunks and made it arable again, as we planted and watered the corn seeds which will shoot up within days, we prayed that God would do this very same work in the hearts of His beloved, the Lakota. There is much dry, packed soil to till, and I believe that we were used to begin that process. Only God knows when the harvest will be ready... but I have faith that there will be a harvest, that beauty will come once again to Whiteclay--in the physical land that has been reclaimed for God, and in the people who are now so content with their filthy rags because they cannot imagine anything better. When this garden begins to flourish, when God transforms the southern gate to the reservation into a place of great physical beauty, may the Lakota begin to see their Creator's beauty and harmony reflected in the land itself. May they begin to conceive of God's plans to prosper them, to give them a hope and a future... and may they unify themselves as a people, under God their Father, to let go of the old and take hold of the new! The missionaries who live with these people are Bruce and Marsha Bonfleur, and their name is French for "good flower." Thank You, God, for sending Good Flowers to such a desolate land and a hopeless people, to bring them hope for new life!

Part 1: Lord, can You heal this land?

If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.
2 Chronicles 7:14

The picture above is a photo of the Badlands, a region of South Dakota which French settlers said were bad lands to travel across, and whose Lakota name mako sika literally means "bad lands." There are remnants of life holding on to this landscape--here or there you will see a puff of rugged flowers fixed to a slope or a dwarf tree shooting up out of the rocky ground, and there are dry stream beds that run along the valley floors which indicate that in days gone by, the Badlands were indeed alive. In their barrenness there is beauty... but this dry, dusty chasm is not what they were meant to be.

I just returned from a mission trip to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Our purpose in this trip was not to Americanize the Lakota people or to bring them a "white man's religion." Our ancestors in this country did enough of that, and committed many horrors against the indigenous people of this land in the name of God. In many ways these people are forgotten, and the wounds that we left them with have never healed. As one Lakota man whom we met told us, his people are not angry with ours, and they don't want vengeance. They simply want us to listen to them and remember them, and love them. And that was the purpose of our mission.

There are so many things I could say about what I saw and learned in South Dakota... I will have to cover them in a series of posts. For now, I will say that I learned so much about God's heart of reconciliation. Not only does He want to reconcile His people and His creation to Himself, but He wants to reconcile them to each other as well. There is power in asking brothers and sisters for forgiveness for the sins of our ancestors, and we did this. We asked the Lakota to forgive us, and we gave ear to their stories and learned how deeply connected they remain to their history--a history we as Americans are not generally taught in the light of truth.

We worshiped and prayed at the hill of Wounded Knee--where the American government committed a massacre against men, women, and children of the Lakota tribe on December 29, 1890. More than 300 Lakota, unarmed, were killed that day, including many innocents. The U.S. government subsequently issued 20 Medals of Honor to American soldiers in connection with the event... and the Lakota, even today, still remember this tragic event and mourn, and ache to understand why it had to happen.



This memorial marks the mass grave into which the bodies of the Lakota were thrown, days after their death, having been left to freeze in the blizzard. The inscriptions honoring the brave and innocent Lakota victims made my heart ache.

Horn Cloud: The peace maker died here innocent.

Big Foot was a great chief of the Sioux Indians. He often said "I will stand in peace till my last day comes."

Many innocent women and children who knew no wrong died here.


As we prayed at Wounded Knee, and we watched the sun set over the hill, I knew that God's purpose is to bring healing to this people and to their land, which has been bitterly contested for hundreds of years and has been host to tragedies and abominations beyond number. As the Lakota have remembered and ached over their past, they have lost hope for their future... and much of the life that God has intended for them has dried up. But as God breathed life into the valley of dry bones, I believe He will breathe life into these people again, and I believe that He will literally heal their land as He heals their spirits... and that the "bad lands" will be called "good lands" as streams flow and birds sing and flowers grow once again.

As I continue to remember and pray for the Lakota people, I pray that reconciliation will come--that the relationship between whites and Indians can be healed, and that we may finally treat each other with love and respect, as brothers and sisters. Then will God be able to move in a powerful way to bring the healing that should have happened long ago. Black Elk, a Lakota Medicine Man who survived the Wounded Knee massacre as a youth, reflected on the incident as he approached the end of his life, nearly sixty years after that day.

I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. A people's dream died there. It was a beautiful dream . . . . the nation's hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead.


Sunset at the hill of Wounded Knee.

This is pretty cool...

A painting on the wall of a vegan restaurant near Atlanta, Georgia... Inspiring.

La terre rit en fleurs

[Earth laughs in flowers.]

~Emerson