The war that raged in Northern Uganda for over 20 years seems much more real when you are living in a refugee camp. Everywhere you go there are reminders of the war and everyone you talk to has their own story to tell. Some people are more than willing to talk of the hardships as well as the miraculous escapes, but others have stories that are far too painful and too recent to talk about. Many people had family members abducted, killed, raped, or infected with HIV, and everyone remembers the terror of flying bullets, huts being set on fire, and all the fears that come with living in the middle of a war zone.
There is a level of culture shock in living here. For me though, it is not the mud h
uts, the food cooked over a fire, the lack of running water, or the “bathroom” that is simply a hole in the ground. For me those have not been shocking, but have quickly become normal. For me, the shocking reality is that the war that terrorized these people has basically all happened during my short lifetime. In 1994, when my family had just moved to a bigger house in a safer neighborhood, thousands of Ugandan youth were fleeing their homes to Rackoko for protection from the rebel army. In 2005, when I was excited about the prom dress I bought and the guy I was going with, these youth were excited about no longer living with the terror of being abducted, raped, or killed. It is a humbling realization.
In the US it seems we always hear those statistics about millions of people in the world living on 1 or 2 dollars a day. Those statistics are m
y next door neighbors. That is the little 10-year-old girl, Palma, who is missing out on a carefree childhood because her mother needs her to watch the younger siblings. That is the woman who refuses to become a Christian because she would likely have to give up her brewing business which is the only way she gets food for her six children. That is Grace, the 18-year-old mom that washes our clothes for us, just to have enough work to support her little baby and herself.
Life is not easy here and the spiritual warfare is thick. Each of us have been feeling it in the environment as well as in our own lives. A few days ago, when Bekah and I had walked through all the huts to our squatty potty, there was a darkness I felt that was almost tangible. There is evil here, there is brokenness and lots of strongholds. But praise God, because He is SO much bigger! We are able to walk confidently here because “He who is in me is greater than he who is in the world” and
who could help but dance in that freedom? The Lord has been teaching our team about depending on HIS strength, that contentment should not rely on comfort, and that prayer and faith move mountains. One of the coolest things I’ve seen since being on this continent was last week when 30 believers were baptized in a river. I sang and danced with the church body as one by one they went into the water, publicly declaring that they were choosing to die to their old life and live a new life with Christ.
There is hurt and brokenness here, but there is also hope and redemption. And isn’t that how it is in all our lives? W
hether you live in a house with a jacuzzi or a hut with no running water, He loves us all the same. No matter what we’ve done or what painful things we’ve been through, He wants to redeem our fractured past and lift us up into a new life with Him. He wants us to take Him the broken pieces of our lives and allow Him to construct a bright, beautiful mosaic that displays His undying love for us. He wants to heal our hearts and give us life abundantly. Will you give Him those pieces?
