Kampala, Uganda 3/14/11
Well, we’re officially in the heart of Africa. We all arrived in Entebbe at 10 p.m. yesterday after 19 hours in a plane, and one of the things I’ll actually never forget is the plan ride. I got to see the sunrise through the clouds in the morning just before we arrived in London, then the sunset over the Sahara Desert in the evening on our final flight to Kampala. From London to Africa, we saw the snow-capped Alps, the Mediterranean Sea, the Sahara desert, (it literally took 4 hours to fly over all that barren land), and the Darfur Mountains. It was around 8 when I looked out my window only to find scarce patches of fire and burning charcoal in various places on the ground. No light. Fire. This means that all the light (fire) that glowed underneath was coming either from tribal or village sources. Not a single electricity light! Can you believe that? We really are on a different side of the Earth where this sort of thing is common. I loved all of this because it brought to life Psalm 148:
Praise the Lord from the heavens,
Praise him in the heights above.
Praise him, all his angels,
Praise him, all his heavenly hosts.
Praise him, you highest heavens and you waters above the skies.
Let them praise the name of the Lord,
For he commanded and they were created.
He set them in place for ever and ever;
He gave a decree that will never pass away.
Praise the Lord from the Earth,
You great sea creatures and all ocean depths
Lightening and hail, snow and clouds,
Stormy winds that do his bidding,
You mountains and all hills,
Fruit trees and all cedars,
Wild animals and all cattle,
Small creatures and flying birds,
Kings of the earth and all nations,
You princes and all rulers on earth,
Young men and maidens,
Old men and children. (v. 1-12)
I was really struggling with stomach issues all the way here (and now even still), so I wish that wouldn’t have gotten in the way of fully appreciating everything that comes my way. When we drove back into town, we got all settled in, and I got to stay with Scott and Sarah, a couple from Austin, since I’m the only girl! I finally fell asleep after my stomach got better and woke up in the morning with an answer to prayer: that God would relieve me. I naturally woke up really early; I absolutely love Scott and Sarah’s life. Waking up to millions of different types of birds singing outside the window, feeling the breeze slip through the hallways from the fresh, heavy air outside, drinking coffee with typical “Austin” music in the background, and watching kids run around (brought in and biological) enjoying each other’s company. Scott and Sarah have three kids of their own and others from various places. They have four boys that are from their own family (one is a nephew), while Joyce (their house keeper who lives with them) keeps Fortunate, Patricia, and Diana, her daughters who live in a small space right next to the house in the front yard. Then there is Hope who is from Sudan with her son Andrew, where she was beaten by her Dinka tribe because she had been raped and impregnated with Andrew, which was a disgrace to the family. They tied her up and threw her in the street, and kicked her in the stomach to try and kill the baby Andrew, who I simply can’t get enough of! It’s the kind of thing you only hear in stories, surreal in a way.
We had our first meeting outside in their backyard, where you can see the suburbs of Kampala on the hills and a little bit of Lake Victoria in the background. It’s so incredibly lush: just in Scott and Sarah’s backyard, there are strawberries, sweet potatoes, matooke trees, mangos, and avocados! So it all goes back to Psalm 148 as well. After discussing the overall plans for the entire week, we set out to visit Lake Victoria. Walking through the streets was interesting, having everyone stare at you and whisper “Mzungu” is quite strange and I don’t know how to handle it. However, at the end of the markets, we took a boat out to an island in the middle of the lake. It was worse than Mexico…there were children running around with malnutrition, garbage on the ground, and huts made out of sticks and muck. I felt bad when they bought us all a local drink from a booth that was selling there. We walked through a huge bush of lush greenery and got to an intimate part of the village to chat with some folks as a storm brewed above us; it was about to rain. The smell of moisture in the air with the presence of those people on an island in the middle of a Ugandan lake while helping them sort out beans for a while is all something you don’t think will ever happen to you until you’re there doing it. Soon enough, it began to lightning and thunder as wind began to pick up, so it was time to leave the people and get lunch.
Heading back before it began to pour, we sat down under a porch to get some authentic Ugandan grub: fried tilapia, head and everything. I ate the fish eye, and I will never eat one again in my life. Nasty! Over lunch, I got to know Eva really well, a member from the One Voice choir, who is 23 and very pretty with a deep, low voice.
After lunch we had some down time where Eva and I took a walk through the muchimuzungu neighborhood, the name that the Ugandans named the neighborhood for having rich white people. Then, for dinner? Yep, fried matooke, potatoes, chicken, sausage, chapatti, and bananas! I learned how to cut the matooke today during the morning, and it’s so much fun. The One Voice choir came along with us, so it was good to meet a lot of them before we rehearse tomorrow. After dinner, we all sat in a circle with giant djembes and guitars and sang praise to the Lord: with one voice, the people of Uganda sang with us from Texas as the candles sparkled on the used dinner tables around us, the moon hung high and bright, and we all shouted “’Sasulide pandya’ (sp?)…” together (in Luganda= “he paid my debt”). Life is so beautiful sometimes, and there was a moment and I just had to step back and appreciate the love of my Yahweh, knowing that he doesn’t have to give me these gifts of good experiences in the first place, considering that my sin doesn’t even deserve redemption; it’s unfathomable to me. I serve a great God!
As for tomorrow, we shall see. We’re heading to the second worst slum in the nation, so it will be easy to see the dirt beneath this beautiful, striking culture.
3/15/11
Woke up to rain and an earthquake this morning (well I didn’t feel the earthquake but apparently everyone else did). It poured hard last night and continued to do so throughout the day, so we didn’t actually go to the slums today. We sat in the living room and had a huge jam session with large authentic djembes and guitars and voices and just played while it rained outside. Breakfast was homemade egg quiche and toast…so delicious!
Then we began to make our way to the music center, first by stopping at a craft market for a quick coffee and fast “shopping”. After cramming 8 people in the back of a 5 person van, we arrived at the school; planted in the middle of the muddy streets of Kampala lie the most beautiful, innocent smiles I’ve ever seen. The kids were absolutely amazing. They take anything and give anything; they sing and scream and dance without caring; they have the joy of Jesus yet have nothing and I don’t understand it. After school they go back into the streets without any care or attention. A part of me wants to shut my heart off to this situation and say that they have each other and they’re fine, but another part of me knows that I’m just scared to admit that this situation isn’t right. This is ten times worse than Mexico. This is worse than any poverty I’ve ever seen in my life, and yet the people don’t know any better…they live life day by day, some with hope and others with bitterness. I don’t know what I’m supposed to learn from this trip, but I know that I am being exposed to so many new things that I’m open for God to speak to me. I at least now have a little understanding of how little I need in order to maintain life...how spoiled I really am back in the States scares me.
We ate lunch at a small outdoor café across from the church we were going to be rehearsing at. I had tilapia filet and chapatti and all I can say is yum. Rehearsal was great…got to meet most of the One Voice choir and listen to them sing as we played together. I’m excited to see how the Spirit will move tomorrow at the worship night, I’m sure it will be something like we’ve never experienced before. It’s a good thing we videoed a lot of it, because there’s so much to explain that it makes it hard to type it all out! After that, we returned for the night and here I am.
I am thankful to worship with such godly men. They’ve been so good on this trip and really made me feel included and safe. I’m thankful I’ve gotten to know each person a little better on this trip, and that because of our love for God we can sing and dance goofy and make all kinds of jokes together without having to worry about what anyone thinks…I love that about theRESPONSE.
Tomorrow is a busy day. I’m am praying that God would show me what He wants me to see, and that despite my feelings I would be able to hand Him the reverent worship He deserves; after all, it’s all about Him anyway. I have been praying against distractions like this so I can really focus on the voice of the Lord. I don’t want this opportunity to slip by without being open and willing to learn from my Father, who is the only One worth living for.
3/16/11
Yesterday was a bit crazy so I wasn’t able to write about it, but now I need to because if I don’t then I won’t be able to catch up with the other days. Yesterday I awoke to chanting Muslims at 4 o clock in the morning. There’s never a dull morning in Uganda, as I have discovered so far. Also, all the different birds chiming in make it all the more merry—some of the goofiest sounding birds I’ve ever heard in my life. Steve got sick today, which was really unfortunate but eventually got a little better for the worship night. During the day we went to a music for life center in the deeper slum areas. I still don’t know where I stand on the issue after the program we ran because of this: how can these kids and people be so full of joy and extremely happy when they don’t even know what “clean” really is? Are slums really a blessing in disguise? The verse that runs through my mind as I walk around in the mud, trash, and waste of these people is:
“Naked I came from the womb and naked I will depart.
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away,
Let the name of the Lord be glorified.”
-Job 1:21
They do not have the things that we do, but something I believe to be much richer. In a way, I am envious of their lifestyle. I walk around and can’t help but smile because of the joy that they bring with them. I love how God chooses to use the “lowly” things of the world and the things that are “not” to nullify the things that “are”, so that ultimately He can receive the praise in everything and that none of us can boast about our works. This is what these kids teach me. We stomped in dusty red dirt and spun in a circle, “making melodies in [our hearts]” to the King with everything we had underneath the rain-filled clouds. However, one thing I’m struggling with is how to be responsible for what my eyes have seen… I’m continuing to ask God to teach me on this trip the things that He desires for me to know.
Then the rain started and we got out just in the nick of time. We were late to sound check at the Full Gospel church, but everything pulled together at the very last minute. There were so many people crammed in to one tiny room five stories up, and I got to look out the window and see the city of Kampala rolling over Uganda’s lush but muddy hills of matooke trees and slums. We all worshipped like no one else’s business. The people bowed, lifted hands, danced, made dance trains, and just gave the Lord their absolute all. I don’t think I’ve ever danced so hard in my life. I love these people! They feel like family to me and it is going to be very hard for me to leave them. I am SO looking forward to seeing all of these people’s faces in Heaven one day and worshiping with them for the rest of eternity. How cool is that! The kids, the adults, our team, everyone. My mind has officially been blown.
After the concert, we were heading back outside when a cop cornered us on the side of a road and almost gave a Scott a ticket! Mukaka, one of my friends, almost got jumped by a group of street kids because they were trying to steal Scott’s car mirrors and she tried to stop them. We were all munching on a ham sandwich and sipping on a soda when Barnett pointed out a street child no more than ten feet away from the van, sleeping on a pile of trash bags with a piece of tarp for a blanket. In the midst of the noise and loudness, they seemed to sleep through it all as if it was the normal routine, and my heart broke.
3/17/11
Woke up to more chanting this morning. Fell back asleep then got up way late! I didn’t have time to have a good quiet time like I usually do, so that was a little frustrating but I am learning that it’s ok and it happens; perhaps that happened so God could teach me that things aren’t always going to go the way I plan them.
We went as a group to go eat at the local gym and American Club, where we had fresh African coffee, eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes. I was a little distraught and agitated about it for the rest of the day, because I am seeing just how spoiled I really am. Are we the kind of people that James warns about in his letter?
You have lived on Earth in luxury
And self-indulgence.
You have fattened yourselves in the day of [feasting].”
-James 5:5
The contrast of eating nice meals and visiting the slums and seeing the kids eat a small bowl of posho and beans is a little hard for me; not really sure how to handle it except that it gets under my skin and makes me kind of angry inside. Why is it like this? All we could complain about was that there “wasn’t enough syrup”, as if our stomach is our god. I am ashamed of myself, at my ignorance, numbness to the world and poverty around me, and my lack of knowledge about such a respectful culture. I still know that we are human and it happens, but I felt like speaking up today and saying something about it… how I felt.
We went into the slums again to one of the music centers. Today, we pulled up and kids were chasing us in the car. Right when we got out, there seriously must have been at least 200 kids plowing over us. We immediately made a natural circle and began to spin together under the rain-filled clouds. Filled with joy more than ever, these kids danced like there was no tomorrow, teaching us the Calypso dance. Barnet showed us around the slums a little more, and we got to see the “homes” where some of these children grew up. Very dirty.
After a quick soda break and snack, we headed to rehearsal at Wilson’s church. It is a nice little setup embedded within the slums of Kampala. It was amazing to worship something so glorious and beautiful and wonderful in the midst of such a place filled with garbage and mud. James, after explaining the luxury of Earthly life, goes on to give encouragement to those who are facing suffering and trails of all kind; it’s paraphrased: ”be patient as a farmer waiting for the rain, because the day is drawing near when Christ is coming back and going to save us from our sufferings”. These people know what physical suffering is, and I couldn’t help but think throughout the whole entire night of both worship services, “Hosanna, you are faithful to fill these people with the faith and joy they’re going to need in order to sustain life here on this soiled Earth until the day you call them to your throne first. Save these people because they love you so much and are clinging to You above all else”.
Tonight was crazy. Have you ever been to a 6 hour church service? Well, I now have. But don’t worry, it wasn’t boring at ALL. People worship like nothing else I’ve ever seen before in my life. I’d say that putting chairs over your head because you’re so excited about praising the Lord is not common in our culture. We all had a great time. Though the power went out a couple of times during the set, though Steve was still a little sick, though we had no monitors, we worshiped and gave the Lord what He deserves.
Something so cool happened tonight. While I was up singing “Wanjagala”, Judith Babirye herself showed up wearing a bright pink dress and diamond necklace and began to sing along with me! The whole time I was watching that video I was thinking to myself how much I wish I could meet her, and then she happens to show up and sing with me, NBD. But seriously, so cool. I find it a blessing to think that by learning this song over hours on my dorm room bed, I was able to present it to these people as a blessing in their worship. I like to think that had God not enabled me to learn that song in Luganda, then Judith would have never shown up and been a blessing to someone else in the room that needed to hear the exact lyrics of her old and new songs (she did a little mini-concert while she was there). By Judith coming, I’d like to think it helped bless her by allowing the people to come up and offer her their blessings with shillings. God is so good and I’m thankful He gave me the eyes to see this little idea.
3/18/11
Well, things are beginning to wrap up the week. Friday has come and gone and now we’re left to enjoy the final weekend here in Uganda until we return to the States. Today we went and grabbed lunch at the American club down the street. We all got to hear Scott and Sarah’s story and how they got to Africa, and all I can say is that we serve a big God who can do things that really do seem impossible. While Scott used to be an Atheist and Sara agnostic, the Lord supernaturally intervened in both of their lives in order to beckon them to Him, and now they are in the heart of African fully surrendered to Him and furthering His kingdom. We then proceeded with the plans and were off to see the Buganda king’s palace!
It is placed on top of one of Kampala’s hills where you can look out to the landscape and see all of the different sections of the city: the Muslim, Catholic, Anglican section, etc. As the guide gave us the history behind the palace, we came to an underground chamber that caught our attention, where the king used to torture those who were a threat in the war. He had an intense stigma against educated people because they were considered a threat to his plan (or anyone who favored Tanzania), so he would hire spies to go around the city and capture innocent people who were attending college, going to school, working, etc. and bring them to the underground cells where they were to be stuffed in small cube rooms of pitch darkness, dying from starvation and suffocation. When the cells got too crowded, they would open the gates of the cells and throw them into the electrified water that flowed beneath the prison rooms. This took place in the early 70’s, which is absolutely shocking to me.
After the tour we made our way through the rambunctious Kampala traffic to get to the music center for the day. We showed up and like usual, the kids were jumping around on the car and dancing and screaming because they were so excited to play with us. Compared to the other centers, this was the nicest one by far, because the children had desks, chalkboards, and a concrete play area in the front of the building. We all had a great time; I’m pretty sure none of us are ready to leave these fun, energetic, lively souls pack-full of joy. Don’t be worried if we bring back couple of them in our suitcase, they’re sort of irresistible.
We left and it seems like every time we get done at the centers it begins to rain. We arrived at Full Gospel to rehearse and according to Steve’s Iphone 4 decibel measurer (nasally nerd voice), it was almost up to 100 decibels with the rain coming down on the tin roof…it was so loud!
Worship happened tonight, by us and by the people. Though the monitors and sound system crashed, the Lord is so much bigger than sound problems, so we lifted His name high with the Ugandans and resisted Satan’s clever schemes of trying to create tension and division among the team. Funny moment: I was playing Wanjagala tonight and all of a sudden this lady runs up to me (while I am playing and singing) and stuffed shillings into my shirt! At first I thought maybe my clothes had fallen down and she was trying to pull them up for me, but then I realized what had happened and got so red and didn’t know what to do…apparently that’s really normal in Ugandan culture, but it was definitely one of the highlights of funny moments on this trip. We closed the night off with Wilson who always brings it home with “O Come let us Adore Him”. There’s a specific prayer that I found in a collection of Puritan prayers that I was reading this morning, that I would like to share, because I believe it carries the central theme of why we are here in Uganda and what we have experienced:
“In the midst of a world in pain
[your blood] is subject for praise in every place
A song on earth, and an anthem in heaven,
Its love and virtue knowing no end.
I have a longing for the world above
Where multitudes sing a great song,
For my soul was never created
To love the dust of the earth.”
-Valley of Vision, ‘Calvary’s Anthem’
3/19/11
Saturday during my 2011 spring break will be something I will never forget. I woke up super early but late at the same time (of course it was drizzling and rainy outside) to pack my backpack and head out to Jinja for the day. We took the bus early in the morning with a whole bunch of mzungus and headed out of Kampala. Slowly, the slums turned into grasslands that were occupied by rural villages made of mud and brick houses (some with straw ceilings), matooke, cows, goats, and many other types of sustainable items. When we’d pass by the villages, children and babies would get so excited, wave at the bus, and yell, “Hi, Mzungu!”, as if just one passing bus full of mzungus made their entire day. It took about two hours to get to the Nile River. As we got closer to the drop off, the rain had made the mud so slick that the bus could no longer continue down the wet path. So we got out of the bus (literally in the middle of nowhere surrounded by banana trees), took our shoes off, got our white water rafting gear, and headed down the steepest slope I’ve ever seen in my life to get down into the water. The steps were stone and mud with no railing, and if you slipped, the result would either be breaking many bones or I would even beg to argue, possibly death! Sure enough, everyone got down fine.
I definitely underestimated the fact that we had embarked on a flat out adventure. Our first rapid we went down was class 5, meaning that we went down a waterfall that was 3 meters tall! I will never forget the mental pictures of the beauty on the Nile…if only I had a camera to capture it all. The scenery was the kind of stuff that you see in National Geographic. After each set of rapids came a calm stretch of water where we could relax and enjoy the creation around us. The temperature of the water was perfect, and slowly the day gradually got warmer and sunnier. There were random islands in the middle of the river that had lush greenery that almost looked staged: papaya trees, flowers, and pterodactyl-looking birds chilling on sharp volcano-looking rocks. Of course, Africa wouldn’t be the same if you don’t see a monkey, so sure enough high up in one of the island trees, we spotted a little fellow hanging out. Off on the side of the Nile were African villages. On the steep fields of red soil, villagers were harvesting the matooke that grew on the side hills. Intertwined with the mzungu tourists in the bright colored rafts were strong-looking men and children in wooden fishing boats catching their supply of food to bring back to their community out in the green fields. Children who lived in the area were constantly running on the side of the river (usually higher on the hills but still visible) to catch a glimpse of the silly-looking tourists.
In the middle of the raft ride we stopped for lunch that they had prepared for us in advance. In order to get to lunch, we had to park the raft, get out and climb muddy hills barefoot to bypass extreme rapids that we would probably not survive if we went down (afterall, Tutu told us no one had ever ridden down them). We climbed up such steep muddy hills that Jeremy and I started slipping down and had to take a different route up. I’m pretty sure I counted 5 centipedes on our lunch break in our path. When we finally reached the top, the workers greeted us with a buffet of ham sandwiches (along with guacamole, cheese, tomatoes, onions, potato salad and rye bread), hot tea and coffee, and fresh quarters of pineapple that were grown in the area. This will be the something that I will never ever forget in my life. I cannot describe the view, only that I think that is what it will look like in heaven. The river and its waterfalls continued for miles as the green islands in the middle of the fresh water sparkled in the sun’s rays. Breathtaking. I sat there and enjoyed the Lord’s beauty as I ate the sweetest pineapple I will ever have in my life, knowing that I serve an aesthetic God.
“Taste and see that the Lord is good.”
-Psalm 34:8
We continued for another hour and a half after lunch until we reached the end. We got out and they had prepared meat and pineapple kabobs with soda and chapatti. By the time we departed for Kampala, the sky was completely clear and the sun began its descent for the day.
Matt almost got stabbed in the face with a spear while we were driving away from the river by a little village boy who thought it would be funny to hit someone with his weapon; it was hilarious.
The whole way home, Sarah explained the fascinations of Ugandan culture; how women never bend their knees when they pick something up, how it’s common to beat and even kill people when they have committed illegal crimes (such as stealing), and how witchcraft is extremely prevalent in Africa. I used to think that witchcraft didn’t exist, but it does. Sarah has seen multiple instances where people have cast spells on her friends and had horrible things happen because of it. One time, one of her sons bought a cool looking souvenir that was a goldish-black figure (not in Africa), but realized it was enchanted with a curse. Ever since her son had bought it, his behavior had dramatically changed for the worse, and when one of Sarah’s friends entered in the upper part of their house, she went upstairs and immediately felt an evil presence within the room. Sarah put the pieces together and knew they had to destroy the gift, so she made her son take it outside and smash it to pieces with a hammer, and he instantly became himself again. She said they constantly have to pray against the power of witchcraft over their family in the name of Jesus Christ. There are many more stories like this that have shown me that I should be significantly aware of certain superstitious habits that I might be used to and things I treat like fiction, because witchcraft is indeed legitimate. Opening oneself up to anything that could possibly contain dark power is a bad decision that does not glorify the Lord. This probably would sound crazy to anyone reading this back in the United States because we don’t have witch doctors, but it is very much a part of life in Africa. In fact, there are even Christians who still use witch doctors. But if you really think about, what makes a witch doctor any worse than some of the things we turn to here in America and rely on to give us comfort and security? I have no doubt that Satan uses every single bit of it for his evil powers.
We got back and enjoyed delicious pineapple and ham pizza, then hit the hay.
3/20/11
I woke up this morning, sad that our trip was coming to an end. I’m going to miss so many things about Uganda; the kids, holding hands with the people, the modest clothing, the posho and pineapple, the friendly people, the funny-sounding birds, waking up to falling rain, the flowers…a lot!
We headed out to a music center before church. We showed up and stood out in the drizzle for a quick time of worship. Out of all the worship experiences in Uganda this whole entire week, I don’t understand why I found this one the most powerful. As we lifted up “You are stronger, you are stronger, sin is broken, you are stronger,” I couldn’t help but notice the slum children standing in front of me with their little brothers and sisters slung across their back because they wanted to worship the Lord on Sunday morning. The sound of these kids praising God a cappella in the middle of the rain outside touched my heart in an immense way.
We headed out to play at Wilson’s church one last time, and it was a little stressful. I didn’t have a capo, the mic stand didn’t work as Barnet had to hold it, and we didn’t have monitors so no one could hear anyone. However, I’ve learned that it’s not about the sound. After I got over all the failing logistics, playing and worshiping with the Ugandan people as everything else faded away was something that I’ll never forget. Wilson formally invited us to attend the November night of worship where over 40,000 Ugandans gather and worship for 12 hours straight…so that might be in the near future? We’ll see. After a quick trip to a popular Kampala market, we headed back to pack up and leave.
On our way to the airport, we stopped at the African Children’s Choir music center to meet the kids who were preparing to go on tour soon. We got to see where they lived, what a normal day would look like for them, and the music and dances they were preparing. Once again, I’ve never seen children so joyful in my life ever. The thing that is so neat about these children is that they come from the lowest of low, often from the worst parts of the slums and streets, having either one or no parents at all. We lifted up the chorus of “With One Voice” as Lake Victoria sat in the background of the windows. In “Mighty to Save”, I will never be able to sing “shine your light and let the whole world see, we’re singing for the glory of the risen King” the same way after seeing these kids singing it, thinking, ‘Jesus truly is the light of the world through these young people’. They are so bright and fun, and I got a hug from each of them on my way out. They all made us hand-made welcome cards so I can’t wait to read them when I get home. We ate one last plate of beans and rice outside with the view of the lake before heading toward the airport, and then we were off.
What have I learned from this trip?
I’ve learned how little one needs to sustain life and how I live in earthly luxury. I’ve learned that the Lord, who is the most glorious and stunning of anything in all of creation can be worshipped even in the dustiest and muddiest places. I have seen the reality of malnutrition, street children, unclean water, and a corrupt government, yet at the same time been able to get a glimpse of the power that God has to reign over His people that makes light break through all the darkness surrounding everything. This trip to Uganda has given me hope that this dusty world is not our home nor will it ever be, and that I cannot settle for anything less than God’s plan to preserve the Gospel with His good, perfect, pleasing will. I know now after this trip that there is so much more to this world than just the American Dream and getting a good GPA and living until I have everything I want in life. Now that I have seen all of these things, I am not sure what to do with them quite yet. I am still praying that God would reveal to me the next actions I must take after encountering this experience, whether He simply wants to chisel my character or call me to a tangible task. I have fully surrendered my life to Christ and with that comes obedience, so now I am going to sit still, wait for His voice, and make myself fully available to be used in any way He desires in order that I can fall even more in love with Him, becoming nothing for Him so that He becomes everything. Thank goodness the only thing the world needs is Yeshua.
Dust
I would like to expand a little more on the concept of dust. Everywhere we went in Uganda, it seemed as if the earthy red dust somehow snuck onto our feet, into our clothes, and underneath our fingernails. Growing up in Texas back in the States, I think I forgot just how dirty you can get when all the roads aren’t paved in asphalt. I was reflecting on this earlier today and this Scripture came to mind:
“…All come from the dust, and to dust all return.”
-Ecclesiastes 3:20
On our first visit to a music center we were helping out with, we drove past miles and miles of slums, and after a while the color was a blend of brown and red caused by the oxidation of a majority of the tin roofs and the Ugandan red dirt. Scott was saying how when it rains in the worst part of the slums of Kampala, it floods the interior and destroys all that the people have built who live in the slums. I am so humbled when I think that we, human beings, are this dust that these ugly slums are made out of. Why do they seem so unappealing to dwell in? Because they are made out of dust, the same thing that we are designed with. Whether the Bible uses the term ‘dust’ literally or metaphorically is not the point: the point is that who am I to think I am anything more special than the red dust that coated my skin in Uganda? I’m only worth anything because Christ was willing to die for me and wash me, but it was never anything I did to deserve worth in His sight. I have so many imperfections that it will be impossible to leave this Earth completely “dust”-free, and that is why I am so grateful that I can go to a perfecter of faith who willingly chooses to continually cleanse me of this sin that always seems to stick to me.
“I have no robe to bring to cover my sins,
No loom to weave my own righteousness;
I always stand in filthy garments,
And by grace am always receiving change of raiment…
I am always going into the far country,
And always returning home as a prodigal,
Always saying, Father, forgive me,
And thou art always bringing forth the best robe.”
Valley of Vision, ‘Continual Repentance’
I think by growing up in America, I’ve never really understood the concept of “dirty” until I went to Africa. I always have a clean shower to take, working toilets, and running water to wash my hands after. There are even shampoos, soaps, and scrubbing utensils to accompany my cleaning process. It doesn’t surprise me now when it’s hard for Americans (or anyone who knows this standard of living) to grasp that human beings are nothing but the dust of the earth, a mist that is here today and gone tomorrow and is completely powerless compared to the God who we were created by. We build lives out of the dust and dirt of the Earth to be satisfied with living in what our own hands have made, yet even a simple rain can come down and destroy our entire work within a matter of hours. And still, until we have seen the life that God has to offer us through the blood spilt out at the cross, we will be ok with living in conditions very much like the slums I saw in Africa. There really is so much more to life than going to college to get a degree to get a good job, then settling for a comfortable home only to have a family and work hard so one can retire early. I will not allow myself to settle for such a shallow life that only focuses me and what makes me safe and happy and gives me a false sense of truth that I’m worth more than what I am created from: dust.
As for those who really do live in the slums, I am thankful that through Jesus Christ and those who are found in His sacrifice can have hope that they were never built to dwell in dust forever, though they are dust themselves. They can look forward to Heaven and know that life here is momentary and less than a breath. They will able to depart this life on Earth knowing they came here with nothing and left here with nothing, ready to embrace the life that God prepared for them in Heaven as they endured the trials of this world. Thank goodness we worship the One who already conquered the world and everything in it.
--Taylor
