Of Returning to the Pearl

There is such a unique feeling as you step off a plane in Africa, or perhaps it’s just unique to Uganda. It is a feeling of awe, a sense of reverential respect mixed with a bit of fear and wonder. Maybe it is the slightly beat up planes and the mesmerizing number of puffy clouds hanging above, or the overwhelming green landscape and the lack of all the things that normally neighbor airports; the towers, the nearby flow of traffic, the American dream. Either way, it all seems to grab me by the hand and show me a slower pace and narrower path. I take deeper breaths here. I think slower and remember more of my thoughts. I watch closer. And in this state of wonder and amazement, fear and courage, I am going to try to convey to you my days spent slowing down and serving the people of Uganda.

A year ago I left Uganda and took with me stories, both beautiful and horrid, of healing and pain, restoration and desperation, so that I might tell of God’s hand in the rebuilding of Northern Uganda. I brought these stories home in photographs and words, but memories of such a short time only left me waiting for a richer and more full experience. There was not a single part of me that did not feel the wear of anticipation to return to Uganda and dig deeper into its unforgettably red dirt. My ears have itched all the while to hear more of the lives that I cherish in Lira. My eyes have strained to again stare through the endless sky over the greenest plains. My hands have ached to hold such warm and genuine embraces. My soul has waited for the chance to run free under thunderous skies and pouring rain. And oh, how that moment was sweet, when I knew my next breathe of air, stolen from the humid air, would set free all of my eager parts. I am here. My ears, my eyes, my hands, my soul: all of who I am is glad to be where the Lord has taken me.

Of course there have been challenges and hardships, as any truly good thing must contain. The journey was exhausting, taking nearly 4 days to reach Lira from home. There have been days when I have wondered what I can really do here in this relatively short amount of time. The needs in Uganda are almost as vast as the sky, and it can feel very overpowering at times: as if the sky was too big to support its own height and weight. But I have learned through many beautiful experiences that I am not here to cure this place of any disease or problem. I am not here in search of solutions to the global giants of poverty and inequality. Rather I am joining together in solidarity with people from California, Oklahoma, Uganda, and Malawi; to visit children in their affliction and hopefully bring some healing, to encourage the youth in their education and to learn their dreams in life, to be a family to 29 orphans that have the most beautiful smiles.

Let me tell you a story. My hope is that you can get a glimpse into my life here in Uganda, and what I see at work here. Last week a few of us from COTN worked with a group of young men at the Ugandan equivalent of a high school. We spent an hour or so with them each day, reading a story about the life of two kids, who are abducted, abused and forced to do terrible things. After each part of the story the guys have a chance to talk about their own stories as we guide them through questions designed to start a process of healing and closure. There was a huge communication gap though as these guys were all from Southern Sudan and did not speak Luo, instead only English and Arabic. Each day was a challenge and at times it just did not feel like we were making progress with the guys. Blank stares, silence, and out of left field responses made for several tiresome days. But at the end of each session change was becoming more and more visible. I began to see some stoic faces smile with an appreciation (awareness) that gave life to the room. On the last day as we closed our eyes to say a final prayer I saw a brilliant flash of light in my mind’s eye. As the explosion faded and darkness settled again the image of two arms and hands outstretched remained burned to my lids. Frightened, I opened my eyes and nearly fell off the table I was sitting on. I closed them only to see the image again but this time the hands were busy at work, peeling off layers off a heart that resembled a stone. A peace like a river rushed over my anxious nerves and over all my doubts and frustrations from the week’s events. I knew at that moment what I was really seeing; God reaching down despite all my inadequacies and communication barriers, and bringing healing to these guys. I do not assume that all their emotional issues were solved in that moment, but I do know that by their faces and smiles after that prayer I have never seen such miraculous change in someone’s eyes. In their eyes I could see the same brilliant light that frightened me in my silent prayer.

And these my friends are the humbling and powerful experiences that seem to follow me here in Uganda. I find more and more that I am ill equipped and inadequate to meet the huge needs in this town, let alone this country. Yet somehow there is a Word and a Breathe and a Hand that moves and works through what little we do in such mighty and gracious ways. And it’s then that I remember that there is a reason that my ears itched and my eyes strained and my hands ached and my soul craved, and my mind remembered, why I am finally back again. Awe.