The nine of us have loaded into Pastor John’s little Toyota
SUV. Angela, B.Priess, and I sit crammed in the back row meant for two people,
and we mutter a quick prayer for safety. We’re off into the Ugandan bush,
heading to a village to visit a newly planted church. What happens next can
best be described as riding an old, rickety wooden rollercoaster without a lap
bar for two consecutive hours. The dirt roads into the village are narrow and
full of potholes bigger than our car. We weave precariously in and out of
bicyclists and people wandering to and from home and work. Children of all ages
leap into the bush as we fly by. Nearly every moment of the ride is spent
praying for the safety of the people on the road and simultaneously trying to
keep from nailing your head on the nearest object- the dome light, the window, your
neighbor. It’s a long, painful ride.
When we finally pull into the village, the agony of the ride
fades quickly from my mind. Our car is surrounded by a dozen or so elderly
women dressed in all white, and they begin screaming and singing. Pastor slows
the car to a mere creep, and we travel the remaining mile or so with the women
running along side us. I’m in shock as I see the worn faces of women who have
to be in their sixties or seventies, singing and struggling to keep up with the pace
of our car.
After weaving through a path so narrow we actually graze a
tree as we drive past it, we arrive at the makeshift church building. Mud walls
are topped with thatch roofs; the whole structure is supported with a few
narrow tree trunks. The doors of the car swing open, and many hands pull us out
into the African sunlight. We are greeted by an increasing number of elderly
ladies letting out cries of joy and foreign melodies. Smiles full of gums and scattered
teeth melt my heart and remind me of why I came on the race. Our hands are
vigorously shaken and our arms are pulled up into the air to join in the
celebration. After many greetings, we are each slowly led to duck and enter
into the church.
Worship begins. Within seconds my feet are leaving the
ground as I join in synchronized leaps. Justin looks over mid jump to say “Eat
your heart out P90X.� It’s true: Tony Horton’s plyometrics have nothing on this
workout. Everyone gathered is drenched in sweat. Mosh pits and conga lines
ensue. I’m handed a whistle to add to the beat. The pound of the drum is fierce
and leads us from one song to the next without pause. I watch and try to
duplicate the hip-hop dance moves of seventy-year-old grannies. I’m not joking,
I saw one brush her shoulders off. Next thing I know we are bending low, and
the whole room is doing the lawnmower. JB, our incredible translator, takes the
lead in a new song. Soon he is doing high knees back and forth across the
stage. I’m so happy I have tears in my eyes.
We reluctantly take our seats to start the program.
Introductions are made and then Team Wellspring is up. Daniel shares a message
about leadership and being led by Christ. I get up and talk about Peter and
God’s perfect love for us. Justin follows with a message on keeping our eyes on
heaven. Pastor John wraps it up with a charismatic message that I struggle to
keep up with.
After the program we are led to seats circled up under a
tree. We are presented with local food and glass bottles of soda. Ravished from
the day, we scoop our rice and beans, cassava and goat meat into our hands and
shovel it down. I finish my meal and wander into the crowd of villagers. They
are laying out a tarp and situating themselves on the ground. Huge pots of food
are distributed among the people, all sharing and pitching in to serve the meal
to each other. It’s a beautiful thing.
I weave in and out greeting lots of women and children. My
camera comes out to document something, and I am quickly being beckoned by many
to take a photo. Precious grannies smooth out their brilliantly colored fabrics
and straighten their backs in a pose for the camera. They let out squeals of
laughter when they see themselves on the tiny screen.
We enjoy an hour or so of spending time with the community,
and then we pray one last time with them. JB and Big Ben (the greatest
translators in all of Uganda) usher us to the car. We are all hesitant to leave
the beautiful people, but the road is long and a storm is near on the horizon.
I have been so blessed by the time we have spent visiting
new churches in the bush of Uganda. It is incredible to meet so many people
that are hungry to hear the word of God and eager to come together as a
community.
We begin our journey to Tanzania on Sunday. We’ll spend a
few days in Kampala, Uganda waiting for the election craze to pass in Tanzania.
I’m not sure where I’ll be in Tanzania or what I’ll be doing, but I’m excited
to start month six. Please keep my whole squad in your prayers for safety and
health.
Love Love Love
