Ugandan time is very different from American time. Case in point - on our second day in Uganda, we left about an hour after the time that we were “supposed” to leave to go back to Lakeside. It takes some getting used to, especially for a Type A planner like me, but the best thing to do is just relax and enjoy not keeping a strict schedule. One of my favorite parts of our “waiting” time is getting to talk to the pastors.
On the morning of our second full day in Uganda, I got to sit outside and talk to Pastor Geofrey, Pastor Omar, and Pastor Anthony. It’s so refreshing to just sit and talk to them – to hear them talk about their families and their churches and how God is working in their lives. I visited Pastor Geofrey’s church last year, so I got to talk to him about how his church is doing and I was able to ask about his son Isaac, who is about 6 and sat with me at church last year. When I took notes on Pastor Mark’s sermon during church last year, I gave Isaac a piece of paper and a pen to draw/doodle with, but he didn’t draw – he copied my notes. Word for word, he wrote what I was writing. Amazing. I also got to sit with Pastor Geofrey on the back of the bus on the way to Lakeside, and I gave him pictures of him, his church, and Isaac that I had taken last year. He was so excited!
When we got to the village, we walked around and played with the kids for a little while, and then we went into the church. They were already in the middle of worshiping and praising Jesus, we joined right in – I miss the worship in Uganda, honestly. We didn’t know or understand the words, and we didn’t need to. We clapped, swayed, and stomped along to the music, and silently added our praises to the beautiful words being sung by the people surrounding us.
After a few songs, those of us working with kids went outside and got the children gathered together. Even though the number probably tripled by lunchtime, we started with a lot less kids than the day before (maybe 50 instead of 250-300? For an accountant, I am terrible at estimating). I got to tell them the story of Jesus; I told them that Jesus loved them and wanted to be their friend. How amazing is that? After the story we sang songs, and then we broke up into stations that the kids rotated through – Kelly played “Friend, Friend, Go” (Another name for Duck, Duck, Goose), Tanja handed out coloring books and crayons and let them color, and I drew smiley faces on their hands to make little hand puppets.
The children in this village were “stubborn” as the pastors kindly put it. They were pretty pushy when it came to getting in line to get things, but how can you blame them? In their lives, there is never enough, and they’ve learned that they have to struggle to get anything. I understand this, but it was still hard when I was trying to draw smiley faces on their hands, and they’re nearly knocking each other over to get a turn at my black marker.
In one of the groups, there was a girl in an orange dress who got knocked over, and she started crying. I knelt down and hugged her, and then helped her to her feet. I could tell that she was still hurting but I had to keep drawing faces, so as she stood in front of my left leg, I simply rubbed her back, and held her against my skirt with my left arm while I kept drawing with my right hand. All of my attention was on her though. I could tell that she had stopped crying, but she was completely still, letting me just hold her. I prayed for her, even though I didn’t even know her name. As I prayed, the song “Hold Me Now” came into my head. I prayed that as I physically held her, that God would hold her in His love. I am having trouble explaining what I felt at that moment, but it was really special. I thought “This is why I’m here, even just to hold some children for Jesus.”
So after all of the children had black marker “friends” on their hands, I got to tell them again how much Jesus loves them, and I told them about how Jesus wants to have a real relationship with them, and at least 15-20 got saved! How awesome is our God!?!? After that, we sang some more songs, and then we went to eat lunch.
Lakeside is (relatively) close to where Pastor Edward lives, so not only was he there again (even though he hadn’t ridden the bus with us), but he brought his wife too! I love me some Mama Joy! She only knows a few phrases in English, but she just radiates love. I ate the lunch that the guest house had packed for us (sandwiches, bananas, and hard boiled eggs), and then sat with Pastor Edward and Mama Joy while they ate their lunch. [Sidenote: Part of the cost of our trip was to pay for us to provide a meal for the people in the villages we visited, so all morning they had been cooking a meal for the people of rice, beans, sweet potatoes, and maybe a few other things. Their food would make us sick, though, thus the packed lunches.]
While I sat with him and his wife, Pastor Edward told me about his family, and how he didn’t know how he was going to care for 13 children. He asked me, though, “What am I to do? Abandon them? I cannot do that.” He told me that he knew without a doubt that God wanted him to take care of these children, but he admitted that he didn't know how God was going to provide for them. His trust in God's provision was obvious and humbling. He told me about how he wanted a cow to be able to take care of his family because they would have milk enough for them plus more to sell; but cows are very expensive, so for now he simply trusts God. His burden, his “luggage” as he calls it, is so heavy. He loves these children, and wants to take care of them, but he feels like when he does the best he can, it’s not enough.
After lunch, Ashley, Tanja, Kelly and I went out hut to hut with Pastor Edward and another interpreter named Martha. At the first hut, Kelly prayed with a lady who was already saved, and when Kelly asked her about a necklace around her baby’s neck, the lady said that it was from a witchdoctor, and then she said that she wanted to cut it off. As we watched, she cut off the necklace. It was a tender display of obedience and trust.
In the second hut, Ashley led a woman with malaria to Jesus, and then we all laid hands on her as Ashley prayed for her. At the third hut, I told a woman and her children about a God who loves them, and the woman and all of her children (4 or 5, I think) were all saved.
At the fourth hut (rather, a “hut cluster” as Robyn dubbed it), there was a group of several women, and they were already saved. I gave a red t-shirt to the oldest woman, and she immediately put it on. Let me repeat: she immediately put it on. As I sat there, the woman took off the old denim shirt that she had been wearing and put on her new shirt. She smiled a huge smile and danced around, and then motioned for me to take a picture.
Three more people, a man and two women, came to know Christ as their Savior at the next stop when Ashley told the Good News, and then we had one more stop to make.
Before I talk about the next stop, let me go back to last year for a minute. When I left to go to Uganda last year, I honestly had no idea what I was doing. I just knew that God wanted me to go. I didn’t really know anybody going on the trip, and I didn’t see myself as particularly “good” with kids, “good” at teaching, or “good” at evangelism. I just knew that I was supposed to go. So when we went hut to hut the first time last year, I admit that I was pretty intimidated. I had never led someone in a prayer to receive Jesus, and while I was willing, I was definitely scared. Every day was fine, but every time that I told people the Good News, they were either already a follower of Jesus, or they had no interest in becoming one. Last year we had just finished our fourth day of ministering in the villages when I rode home on the back of the bus with Pastor Mark. He asked me questions about how things were going, and I told him that I was a disappointed that I hadn’t gotten to pray with anyone to receive salvation yet. I told him that I knew it wasn’t about numbers or who does what, but I just felt slightly frustrated - like I was missing out on an important part of the whole experience. He told me to come with him the next time we went hut to hut, and I did the very next day. When we started out, we first came to a building with a group of about 10 men in their late teens and early twenties who did not look very welcoming or excited about listening to what we had to say. They did agree to listen, and Pastor Mark said “I’ll take this one;” I observed as he told them about a God who loves them and who wants to save them, and several were saved. As we walked away, he said “I knew that would be a rough group, and I thought you might be uncomfortable.” He was right on both accounts. At the next place we stopped, I prayed with a woman who was already saved, and then, on our third stop, we came to Mary. Mary was nursing her baby the entire time I talked to her, but she listened intently as I told her about God’s love for her. I almost held my breath when the interpreter asked her if she wanted to be saved. I knew and I know that it was not me who led her to Jesus. I know that God calls us, He beckons us to Him, and He works in our hearts. But for me, telling Mary about Jesus and leading her in a prayer in which she surrendered her life to God... that was an indescribable experience. And every time that I have had the privilege to do it with other people, it's been just as incredible.
So back to 2010. Pastor Edward was leading us around the village, and he announced “We will stop here” in front of a pool hall. Yes, a Ugandan pool hall. Under a thatched roof, there was a pool table, and a group of 10 or 15 young men in their late teens or early twenties who did not look thrilled to have a bunch of white girls interrupting their game. I knew that I was supposed to talk to them, and I immediately had a flashback to the year before when Pastor Mark had taken the reins in a similar situation. He wasn’t there this time. I realized, though, that God could do what He wanted through me too. I prayed silently as I stepped forward with shaking knees and started to tell them everything. I told them that we’re all sinners, but God loves us anyway; I told them that God loved them so much that He sent his son to die for them. I could feel my confidence growing, and as Pastor Edward’s powerful voice translating, I knew that God was working. I was praying as I spoke, trusting that God was going to work through me, a little white girl with shaky knees. I asked if any of them were willing to surrender their lives to Jesus, and one man raised his hand. His friends laughed and jeered, but he kept his hand up, a huge smile on his face. I can’t imagine the kind of courage it required of him, but he stepped forward from behind the table, and stood right in front of me. He accepted God’s gift of salvation, surrendering his life to Jesus, even as his friends continued with their laughter and murmurs. Ashley told me later that (1) she had never heard me talk with so much conviction and strength [and I know that that was ALL God, and not me] and (2) that she sensed the need to pray, and she had been praying the whole time that I was speaking.
We made another stop, and as I played with a group of children off to the side, Ashley got to pray with a group of women. Marian and Mya, my friends from the day before, had been following us at each stop, and at this last stop I was able to stand and hold their hands and try to talk to them. By the time we were done, it was time to go back to the church for a crusade.
As we walked up to the crusade that was already underway, Smooth says “Helen, do you want to give your testimony?” I said “If you want me to.” [I know that I say this way too often when the point is obviously not whether or not the person asking me wants me to do something. As soon as I said it I realized that this was one of those times.] Smooth asked me again “No, do you want to?” I said “Yes,” and within a few moments I was standing in front of at least 100 people talking about how Jesus saved me from my fears. I told them about even though I’ve been saved since I was very small, I’ve had fears. I have let fear keep me from doing things that I knew God was calling me to do, but He is bigger than our fears. He is stronger than anything we can face. I told them we cannot let fear keep us from what God wants us to do, because we would miss out. I would have missed out on Uganda if I let my fears control me, and that would have been a terrible thing. I ended by saying “God bless you” in Lugandan – “Katonda Akuwe Omukisa,” which led to a shout of laughter – the Muzungu speaking Lugandan is obviously quite amusing.
Afterward, I stood off the side holding the hands of some children while Smooth preached the Gospel to the large crowd gathered. As people moved forward to pray to receive Jesus as their Savior, Ashley came over to me. “That man! That man was in the pool hall! Do you recognize him?” I am so thankful that she saw what I had not – another man from the pool hall had come to the crusade, and as we watched he was receiving eternal life. How incredible is that?
The bus had taken a few of our teammates to the prison, and so we had about 30 minutes, I think, where we just got to play with the children and talk to the adults. I took pictures of and with the children for a while, and then tried to get them to sing songs and dance with me. I walked over to Pastor Robert to talk to him, and he said “It is a big blessing to have everyone love you.” I asked him what he meant (thinking that surely he didn't mean me) and he said “You are now a mama with many children.” I was so touched. I just kept thinking, “I’m just playing, I’m just singing, I’m just…I’m just…” and then I told him “I feel like what we do is so small. I know that the need is so big…” and he stopped me. He said “No. It is a big thing that you do. You come. You encourage us. That is big.”
The thing is, it’s great that we can bring some clothes, some sandals, some toothbrushes, and other things that help them for a while. But the biggest thing that we do is just coming. It’s just bringing them courage and hope. It’s telling them that we love them and we haven’t forgotten them. What we physically give is small - like the pair of sandals and a shirt that I gave to Marian and Mya. The shirt and the sandals will fall apart someday. But the people in that village heard that Jesus loves them, and our team was there for them. We came for them. We had encouraged them that they are not alone, that they are not forgotten... that God loves them. That is what matters.
So the bus came back for us, and we loaded up for the ride back to the guest house. I said good-bye to Mama Joy, and she told me she loved me in Lugandan several times “Nkwagala nyo nyo nyo. Nkwagala nyo nyo nyo.” I hugged her over and over and told her that I loved her too. I've never been so close to someone that I've shared so few words with.
Over a delicious dinner of spaghetti, pineapple, bread, and mushroom soup, we told our stories from the day. We talked about how when we come, we bring hope. That’s why we come. Pastor Mark mentioned that I had struggled with coming – I had emailed him asking if it wouldn’t be better for me to just send money to my friends in Uganda, because would that be of more use to them than having me there for a week? But in his email, and then that night at dinner too, he reminded us all that God tell us to GO and that He has things He wants us to do in Uganda.
The God of the universe chooses to use us. Sometimes that means going to Uganda, but wherever and whatever it is, it always blows this girl's mind.
