Karibu from Iringa, Tanzania! We left Lira, Uganda by bus and arrived in Jinja (the source of the Nile) for a few days for rest and relaxation. We stayed at Nile River Explorers campgrounds where we experienced the beautiful sight and powerful sounds of the Nile River everday. It was fun exploring the riverfront and seeing monkeys scurry up tree limbs and jumping from tree to tree.
My friend Robin Barnes and I were invited by a man who worked at the Nile River Explorers cafe to visit his church for prayer. The church was not far from the campsite, and upon arriving, we were greeted by Pastor John (who once was a witch doctor, but was rescued from the domain of darkness and transferred into the kingdom of Light through God’s Son Jesus), and later we were introduced to the only elder of the church, Lydia. The church was a small building made of cinder-block where at most 50 people can comfortably sit. David, our friend from the cafe, translated for Robin and I as we shared Scripture and prayed with Pastor John, David, and Lydia. Then Pastor John wanted us to pray over Lydia’s, his, and David’s household. So Robin and I did just that! We walked to Lydia’s house and cramped in a 1-1/2 bedroom house, we prayed a blessing on Lydia’s five member household. Then we walked to Pastor John’s house and prayed a blessing over his household, which was only one bedroom big. After that, we walked to David’s house and prayed a blessing over his household, his future wife, and his life dream to move to New Jersey and work at a recording studio.
It was my first time to be asked to come to a church to specifically pray with the head pastor, the youth pastor, and a church elder and then be invited to each of their houses to specifically pray a blessing over their household. I was a little skeptical at first because when Robin said that David invited us to pray at his church, I had in mind he invited us to a “prayer service”. But on arriving at the church building, there was no sign of a “prayer service”. No music, no praying out loud, no droves of people entering the building. The building looked more like a house from the outside, and it felt abandoned and cold when entering it. I saw a few chairs scattered in the open room and wooden benches having some symmetrical alignment to them. Then a man (Pastor John) arose from, what it seemed, his sleeping area and greeted us. I started to think that maybe we were invited to this church to hear about the church’s needs and maybe they wanted us to give them financial support or a financial offering.
It is so easy to think like this because of the experiences I have had with African locals who would call me “muzungu” and then ask or tell me to give them money or sweets. If they see a white person, they automatically think “money”, “wealthy”, or “give me”. But Pastor John, David, and Lydia sincerely were looking for a time of fellowship and prayer, true “prayer service”. There was no mention of money, no mention of “support us financially”, no mention of “can you give us money?” They only said, “Can you keep us in prayer?” and “Would you share a Word with us?” and “Would you come to our houses to pray for us and our households?” Talk about a humbling experience for me. They didn’t see me as someone carrying money, but as someone who has something greater to offer: the true fellowship offered by the Holy Spirit and the true hope offered by Jesus Christ. They didn’t discriminate against me because I was white. They accepted me as one of them because of Jesus Christ. “There is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).
