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So in the previous post, I reflected on how similar Church
of the Resurrection, Bugolobi (Church of Uganda, Kampala diocese) is to Open
Door Presbyterian Church (the English-speaking congregation, anyway). Today, a Saturday, on our teams’ day off, all
the seemingly random details reminded me so much of home. As I type this around 11ish p.m., I’m feeling
more at peace with the prospect of returning here someday.
A bunch of us spent the late morning and afternoon at
Garden City Mall, where we saw lots of foreigners. I’m kinda surprised at the diversity I’ve
seen here and I wonder if Nairobi is just as or more so than Kampala. Oh, varied demography, I’ve missed you.
Peter had recommended highly that we attend Saturday
evening worship services at Kampala Pentecostal Church (KPC); he touted their
praise as the best in the country. He
testified that he always leaves so blessed. I could (but I won’t) name friends from home who are as thirsty and
excited to experience God.
Peter himself reminds me of home. He’s my age: 25 going on 26. He’s in a bunch of transition periods at
once: took on another job (or made a job
switch?) and he’s engaged (his fiancée is also from Church of the Resurrection
and they share many of the same friends from there). A most gracious host and a car-owner, he
shuttled a few of us from town to home, like the way many of you have and would
for me back home.
I noticed home, both DC and NYC, is a place of transition
and transaction (especially for DC this year, no?). The whole country, especially the northern
part, is in a longer kind of transition – from war to peace. DC and NYC are being flooded with young
adults. Uganda has the highest
percentage of their population aged 15 and under in the world.
Before you read on with the impression that my Ugandan
brothers and sisters are just like y’all back home, I’ll add some caveats. I’ve heard half a dozen of my new friends
share how they’ve lost their parents. One
brother’s story of how he’s been affected by HIV yet hopes in the Lord could be
a blog in and of itself. Agnes, who’s
six years my junior, has such an evangelist’s heart and an insatiable thirst
for His word; she comes from a village and considers the city paradise, even
with 9+ people living in one apartment.
Yet still I feel so at home with them. Brenda and I ended up going to a farewell
party because the much lauded worship service at KPC was cancelled today. Joshua, Lydia and their baby Ella are leaving
tomorrow afternoon to Maldives to plant a church. At first, it seemed so random for the two of
us to be at this family’s send-off; we just wanted to go to the supermarket to
buy some laundry detergent; I found myself sitting on a swing in the grassy
yard of the kindergarten adjacent to the church.
As I listened to the parishioners
say their goodbyes, I felt this urge to join them. The déjà-vu washed over me – a few months
ago, I too was at Jerry’s house, surrounded by good friends, the good food they
made, and their prayers. I feel like
Joshua seems like the male, older, married with child, Ugandan version of me. .
. well, I guess we’re identical in the length of the emails (or anything else)
we write (and say), being involved in all kinds of ministry at church and
desire to stay in touch with home.
I walked up before the crowd and just encouraged him as
best I knew how: that I’ve been there. I remembered how as I savored the goodness
and familiarity of all that I was leaving behind, it got harder to imagine the
goodness of what I was moving toward. But I managed to get on that plane, and I did make it to the Philippines
after all.
Before I knew it, I was in a place where I could reassure
this missional family that the other side of leaving is actually a great place
to be. Ironically enough, they too may
find that they’re not as far from home as they think. As someone wise once told us, I advised,
“Just get on the plane.”
A little while later, as Peter drove Brenda and me back
home, he asked us, “Do you think you will settle here in Uganda?” We’re always asked some variation of that
question, but our answer is textbook: “We’ll see (where God leads).” After every place I’ve been on missions, I’ve
thought, “I can see myself coming back for longer” – with the exception of
Kenya. Let me rephrase, it would not be
as easy for me to go back to Kenya as it would be to return to Mexico, Peru,
Honduras, the Philippines, and China.
Perhaps it’s premature, but I’m ready to add Uganda to the
list. And here’s the kicker: I’d give
this place higher priority over the rest. Why?
All the small things add up to something bigger. To be
continued. . .
