Some days here I am amazed by the primitive state of these people. Others I
am amazed by how far along the road to development they are. There is an
astounding mix of tribal culture moving towards more developed/westernized
culture. I think I am already growing used to this place, and need to keep
fresh eyes to share with others the wonder of it all. It is a place where
the construction of our kitubi (a traditional outdoor building used for
greeting) is done using pongas (machetes), hand made bricks, sand and rocks
pulled up from the river, and lots of hard work. But then you add in the
cement that they purchase and you begin to get a picture of what I am
talking about. The mixing of cultures, a culture in flux.

Take our Ugandan friend Daniel. At 23 he is a local pastor and husband to
wife, Grace who is 20. They have a two year old son, Godwin and another
baby due soon. They hope to have three to four children and educate them
all well. In addition to his pastoral duties (which do not pay), Daniel
works for us and operates a “lock up”, a small road side store in his front
yard. He has hopes to open a restaurant in the local village that will
allow him to employ family members while continuing to devote his energy to
his church.

These folks seem remarkably like me in some ways. But as I ask Daniel
questions about his family of origin, I am amazed by the reality of his
life. He is one of thirty children borne to the six wives of his father.
His mother is a traditional birth attendant who herself bore eight children.
Praise God that all the children of Daniel’s mother walk with Jesus! When I
asked him how he felt about growing up in that home situation, he simply
states, “It was the will of God.” Daniel dropped out of school at level S-3
(sophomore in high school) due to lack of school fees. He then went on to
pastors school, after being selected by his church leadership. Upon his
return from pastors school, at the ripe age of 18 his church leaders
arranged a marriage with a girl he had never met. She was just fifteen, and
in sixth grade! They are blessed to have an marriage based on commitment
that has blossomed into love.

Honestly I find this family history shocking and disturbing. Yet, I know
these people personally and can testify to you that they are beautiful,
appealing, charismatic, and sweet people. They love each other well and
they love others well. God is making Himself known through them.

Would you please pray for Daniel, Grace, Godwin and their soon-to-come baby.
They are bright lights for God’s kingdom here, and have been an incredible
blessing to our family already. Pray for them to be healthy, to continue
to know God better, and to be a powerful force for a kingdom culture to
develop in this place, no matter the flux.

I’ve been thinking about advice. The giving of it.

On Saturday our team discussed money, generosity and friendship at our
monthly ‘culture discussion’. There was an interesting article for us to
read and many good points were made. It was helpful to hear things from the
perspectives of multiple others, and especially those who have been here
much longer.

In the long run, though, we came full circle to where we started. We all
feel confused and unsure about how best to help financially. We find
ourselves in the position of being comparatively, fantastically wealthy,
despite how much we chose to give up to come here. And there is the
struggle of how best to use that wealth. Do we help each person who comes
for something, like a net or food?? Do we invest into a smaller number of
people with items like education and land?? Do we give only in relationship
or when we see a need. How do we decide who to help? Do we help those who
come to us, or do we go out and find needs that are not brought to us? Can
money thrown at problems help them that much at all or do we really need to
find other ways of pointing to Jesus? Can we point them to Jesus when we
are ignoring their physical needs??

Here in Uganda, when you help one person there will always be others. If I
have ten children in my yard and I bring out brownies, there will VERY
quickly be forty, fifty, sixty more. Within minutes. And it is much the
same with our financial assistance.

There is a concern that we continue to hold the colonial position of
“patrons” in this culture. That people may choose to invest their time not
in working towards a better future but in relating to us with hopes of our
helping them towards a better future. It’s not surprising given that they
have very little room for social advancement here. Corruption in government
and leadership, the lack of opportunities, and economic dysfunction all
contribute. Again, that is why we are working with future leaders at Christ
School – with the hopes to change the big picture some day.

But really should we be wise stewards in that way, choosing to focus on big
picture while turning down the many, many daily needs of our local people?
Did Jesus work that way? I can’t see that with Jesus it was an either/or.
He focused on big issues and small ones. He worked in relationship and out
of the context of a relationship. He saw with compassion and saw people not
problems.

This is where I come to advice. For us here, to explain the masungu
(foreigner) way of doing things is not very helpful, but it sure is
tempting. How do we know that our way of saving, planning ahead, or
handling time will be helpful to these people? They have their own
beautiful set of gifts, talents, passions. We’re pretty sure we’re bound to
mess them up

It’s not that different in our relationships with any fellow human being.
Any relationship is a crossing of cultures, since we are all such different
people. And any advice is advice given from one situation and applied to
another. Doesn’t it make more sense for us to merely share what God does I
our lives, how we relate to Him, His impact on our hearts – - and let God’s
Spirit do what He will with that sharing?? Rather than telling others how
to live, we can share with them how God has cared for us, loved us, related
to us. And we can trust that God can teach them in the exact way they need
to be taught. Otherwise, with all our flaws, we’re bound to mess them up.
And probably hurt feelings in the process.

Just my two cents for the day.

Today we got a chance to drive to Ngite and hike up to the big and beautiful
waterfall. Ngite is only a short drive from Bundimalinga, where we live.
Yet there the language changes to Meconjo, not a similar dialect but a
distinct and different language. We drove for perhaps twenty minutes,
passing our team airstrip before turning off onto smaller and smaller roads
and finally parking beside a family “compound” or grouping. All of us got
out of the truck (we traveled African style, with about 15 of us packed into
a pickup truck) and walked up past houses, through a compound and its
accompanying cocoa garden. Not much later we reached the beginning of the
steep climb up the mountain side to the source of the clean water piped to
our local villagers, Ngite waterfall.

Naomi and I joined some of the other missionary parents and kids for this
half day trip. Naomi was amazing. She is growing stronger and braver all
the time. She traversed hills and ledges that made me afraid. A good deal
of our travel involved a real danger of a steep, sharp fall to rocks below,
and she is not too fond of heights.

We strapped her into a child climbing harness for the worst part of the
climb, and at one point all of us used a rope to help us scramble from one
edge of the ledge, across erosion to the other edge. We were dirty, tired
and a bit torn up from the climb, which was as steep a hike as I have ever
taken.

But, oh, the reward of the falls. When we reached Ngite falls there was no
question that the trip was very well worth it. Naomi did not go down the
difficult path to the water itself, but I did. I was able to swim in the
pool below the falls, lay backwards and feel the full w eight of 300 feet of
falls coming down on me. It was majestic, it was refreshing, it was healing
and soothing.

I am posting these pictures, which I wish did more credit to the actual
beauty there. I could not bring my camera down to the pool at the bottom of
the falls, since it was too wet, the air too full of spray. That would have
made some nice pictures. I lay in that cool pool feeling the weight of the
water on my back, the spray of the water on my face and just felt incredibly
thankful for the opportunity to be here in the African jungle swimming in a
waterfall.

Each day feels like a marathon. I find myself becoming disillusioned,
depressed, defeated by mid day, and as the afternoon goes on, more so. When
the stillness and peace of night comes; the visitors all gone for the day,
our family together, I feel relief. I sleep quickly but not well.
Dreaming, waking, restless, yet so tired. The mornings come and I find
myself wishing for more time, more time in stillness, more time in darkness,
more time without chaos around me.

I search the scripture, looking at the life of Jesus. How did Jesus cope
with so many needing Him? With so many problems, so many hurts, so much
pain? How did Jesus handle his ever-present multitude? A verse pops out as
if written just for me . . . .

“but Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed” – Luke 5:16

The next day I am listening, yet again, to Anne Graham Lotz’s recording,
Just Give Me Jesus. I listen to it many times each day. She brings me,
with her words, to sit at the feet of Jesus and begin to know who He is. I
stand in awe of Him. Today one small phrase stands out for me, she is
speaking of Jesus: “He stands in the solitude of Himself”. I am captivated
by this thought, by the image I have of Jesus standing in His own solitude,
enough, enough, enough, nothing more needed.

Another day passes, I read about being blessed, (from Life of the Beloved),
He discusses the disciplines of silence and solitude. He calls me to these
disciplines . . . .

And then today, I sit in the sacred, early morning hour, awash in the beauty
of mountains, the joy of the presence of God around me like a mist. I cry
out to God with my temptations. I pour out my heart before Him, free in the
knowledge that He will never love me less, can not ever love me more. I am
His child and He wants my heart; it’s pain, imperfection and prostitution
(see the book of Hosea) included. I ask that He would meet me, with
Himself.

I turn to my daily devotional reading (The Experience, by Henry and Richard
Blackaby), the verse for the day:

“The Lord said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the
LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.’
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the
rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind
there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the
earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the
fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over
his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a Voice said
to him . . . . .”

And again, the devotional discusses stopping our activity, finding a quiet
place, being still with our God. I realize suddenly, sheepishly, that God
is being very clear with me. He wants time with me, and knows I need time
with Him.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I don’t share this to preach to you, to say what you should or should not
do, to teach you truth. Instead I share this with you simply to record my
own journey and in the knowledge that although we are each broken in our own
unique way; you, like me, ARE broken and perhaps your hearing of Gods
completion in my brokenness will be of some help.

From Leonard Bernstein’s “Mass”:

” I never realized that broken glass could shine so brightly.”

I think I’m becoming less American all the time.

I know that my English is suffering.

Maybe that’s not all bad.

My children who I have spoken to in four syllable words since birth are now
hearing me shorten everything to concise, simple word patterns.

When you speak African English mixed with Lubwisi many hours a day, it’s
hard to go back to more complex conversation on your off time.

I am surprised by a lot of aspects of the use of English here. There’s a
real art to speaking broken English in a way that is understandable by
tribal Africans who have learned English in school (remember, the offical
language of British colonized Uganda is English, despite the fact that it is
no one’s first language here). Many of the adults here speak no English,
some who have gone beyond the first four or five years of primary
(elementary) school, speak broken African English. A few speak English
well.

They understand words you wouldn’t expect, for some reason I haven’t quite
figured out (“the balance” – used for money remaining after a transaction at
the market; “remainder” for things that are leftover; “disturb” for
bother/annoy/interrupt). You learn quickly to use these types of words in
conversation, though perhaps you’ve never used them much before.

There’s also the interesting language phenomenon of a culture that was stone
age until about fifty years ago when Westerners first discovered this area.
I assume it is for this reason that words for more western items are all
variations on the English words, not real Lubwisi words. However, they are
enough a part of Lubwisi now that they consider them to be part of the
language. Clothing all falls into this category. “blouse” for shirt,
“skirtie” for skirts, “trousure” and “short trousure” for pants and shorts.
I’m also thinking of “boxie” for box, “gum” for tape, “skoll” for school.

At the same time, words that we don’t recognize are freely used as English
here, for example “lock up” and “dukha” are two types of village shops.

Phrases such as “how is it?” and “Is it coming well?” are helpful because
they correspond well with the sentence structure and line of thinking used
in such solicitous questions in Lubwisi.

The sounds and tones that their mouths are used to pronouncing, based on
Lubwisi, don’t always translate well for English use. For example, hat,
hot, and heart all sound exactly the same to the Babwisi, and when used by
them. We spent a long time discussing a “soap” business with a young man
who needed financing, before finally realizing that he was talking about a
“shop” business!! Even once we discovered what he meant he was not able to
discern between the two words! Of course we have the same issues with
Lubwisi and are occasionally embarrassed and often “bring cheer” because of
this!

You can’t take for granted that words will mean in this culture what you
think they might mean given your own, either. Does married mean that there
is a legal document, that there has been a ceremony in a church or that
rings have been exchanged? For many marriage occurs in God’s sight when the
parents meet each other and agree on the marriage and when the bride price
is payed. Years later, if finances allow, the couples may exchange rings in
a ring ceremony in their church. Many hope for this day.

It’s difficult to learn Lubwisi here, because you CAN survive on African
English. That should make it easier, but in practice it makes it more
difficult.

These thoughts are all pulled from the book I referenced in my last post,
Love Walked Among Us, by Paul Miller.

In reference to Jesus healing a man blind from birth;

“The disciples see a blind man; Jesus sees a man who happens to be blind.
The disciples see an item for debate; Jesus sees a person, a human being
like himself. They see sin, the effect of man’s work; Jesus sees need, the
potential for God’s work. The disciples see a completed tragedy and wonder
who the villain was; Jesus sees a story half-told with the best yet to
come.”

“It is one thing to notice a blind man; it’s quite another to stop and talk
with him – that gets scary. He might ask for money or interrupt our
schedule. It’s as if we are afraid that his blindness might affect us.
This fear is not irrational – when we pause to have compassion, something of
the other person’s problems comes on us. Some of his pain touches us. At
the very least, slowing down and noticing someone takes time.”"

“Compassion affects us. Maybe that’s why we judge so quickly- it keeps us
from being infected by other people’s problems. Passing judgment is just so
efficient.”

“Jesus said that his primary way of relating to people is saving them, not
evaluating them. “for I did not come to judge the world, but to save it”
John 12:47 That not only describes his whole life, but the individual
moments of his life, like this brief encounter with the blind man.”

“Judging is knee-jerk, quick and bereft of thought, while compassion is slow
and thought-filled. Judging separates and thus destroys community;
compassion unites and creates community.”

“We’ll often notice things wrong with people, but does that initial look
lead to compassion and helping, or to judging and distance? Compassion and
judging are two different ways of ‘seeing’.
When we stop judging, we rest from the incessant work of analyzing others.
We don’t need to figure out what’s wrong with them, that’s God’s job. Our
job is to understand.”

The people are omnipresent. This culture is friendly, welcoming. It is a
culture where not visiting a friend for more than two days means there is a
rift in your relationship. It is a dropping-by-often kind of culture. Here,
we frequently use a term I never used much in the States; greeting. You
greet early and often, both at home, and on the road. To have visitors here
is a way of life. It is intensely time consuming and for both of us
extremely draining.

When you receive a visitor, you must offer them a chair (most local people
have perhaps one or two chairs, which do not closely resemble those you
would be familiar with; they are very low, very slungback, and look very
likely to disintegrate when sat upon. It is also considered correct for the
host to sit on the ground or a low stool while the visitor takes the honored
chair.

Unlike in America, where you immediately say “hello, how are you?”, here you
must wait in friendly silence for the seat to come out, for the visitor to
sit, for you yourself to sit on the stool or floor. You must lean your
whole body into the person’s presence, making good eye contact and perhaps
extending your hand to embrace theirs ( and shake with the snap if you are
male) while saying “oliaeo” (first greeting of the day), “makulu?” (how is
the news) and hearing back “melembe” (peace). You’d probably add on “olio
tia?” (How are you?) and receive the response “indio”. (Please excuse my
butchering of Lubwisi spelling if you happen to be one of the rare people
who are familiar with it!!) It is so challenging to remember not to greet
people while standing there getting out their chair, or while waiting in
silence while they produce one in front of their home, but instead wait
until both of us are seated.

At this point in the visit there will usually be a long moment of silence,
without eye contact, while we build up to either the real reason for
visiting, or perhaps more friendly conversation. In our cases, a good 90%
of our visitors are coming to share with us their “small problems”, usually
regarding lack of food, medicine, mosquito netting, uniforms or books for
school, or proper shelter.

Each visit will last anywhere from perhaps 10 minutes up to several hours.
People enjoy sitting companionably, perhaps shelling soya beans, pounding
sombe, or picking rice. I am learning these simple yet novel hand skills so
that I can enjoy the long periods of sitting on the porch with others.
Working in community is rewarding and refreshing; Americans should try it.

At any point that I am greeting a visitor, there are likely to be at least
five to ten children sitting with us on the porch, taking it all in and
ready to help with whatever I might wish to do. These children love the
industry of sorting g-nuts (peanuts), and washing fruit. No matter how
hungry, they would never eat food that isn’t placed into their two
outstretched hands put together to form a little cup or bowl; the cultural
way to receive a gift.

On those Myers Briggs tests, I fall pretty evenly between introvert and
extrovert. I love people and am sociable, but am also easily exhausted by
my interactions. I don’t enjoy too much solitude and get lonely and sad,
but if I don’t have some good alone time mid day I am soon very grouchy.
Please pray for me in this area. I am simply overwhelmed by the
omnipresence of people in my life here.

I am reading a book called, ” Love Walked Among Us; learning to love like
Jesus.” (by Paul Miller). Really I feel that learning to love like Jesus
is, at least for me, my life’s calling . . . . Entering into His presence
and absorbing Him and then reaching out to others with what He offers. The
beginning of the book talks about looking at others with eyes of compassion.
I keep coming back to that, desiring that God would allow me to see others
here with His compassion, despite how numerous and painful each person’s
problems are. I don’t want to stop seeing or feeling their pain, their
difficulty – to stop hurting as they hurt and sitting in compassion at their
feet. Please pray for me in this area. Pray for me to have a soft and
vulnerable heart. Pray for me to have love I myself don’t possess. Pray
for me to Always have Enough compassion, because Jesus compassion fills me.

Many people have expressed a strong desire to send us “care packages” and we
are incredibly appreciative for that. Getting mail — especially with
goodies! — is one of the high points of our life here. We’ve just set up a
site that lists things we would need/want with instructions on how best to
send them; the link “Care Package Wish List” is on the blog’s sidebar. For
folks that attend our home church, Mariners’, you can just use the system
they have in place there, which would probably be easier for you; you don’t
need to use the web site also.

Thanks so much for the love and support!

Tomorrow the new term starts for the primary (elementary) schools here in
Bundibugyo.

Uganda was colonized by the British and the educational system reflects
that, as do so many other traditions here.

They are not particularly good schools, but they are free. They are all
that is available, as far as I know. Some have walls, other don’t. They
are all very minimal. Schools are supposed to be taught in English, but
that is very difficult since none of the students come to school knowing any
English.

Over the last week many, many children have come to us needing items to
attend school. Most importantly, the uniform. But also, closed shoes (for
the older children), notebooks, and money for the lunches for the term.

I am blown away by the lack of sense in offering universal, free, primary
education to a subsistence population, then requiring uniforms, shoes, and
paper – none of which can be afforded by the majority of households here.
For children, such as our neighbors, to live within walking distance of a
free school, and be unable to attend because of the required clothing seems
wrong and thoughtless. Yet it is the way here. Colonialism strikes again.

Just listening to a sermon from our pastor at Mariners Church in Annapolis .
.. . . Enjoying the benefits of a wonderful supportive sending church, modern
technology and resources. What a gift to be fed.

Struck by Pastor Bill’s comments regarding God’s word giving us life, and
the life that we receive being internalized and then shared. It is not
given simply for us, but to be passed on.

Also today, reading Life of the Beloved, by Herni J M Nowen, who discusses
God’s work in our lives in terms of four words; taken, blessed, broken and
given. Which of course, bring us back to the old analogy of bread, of the
five loaves and two fishes, of the Last Supper.

Nowen states so well the simple truth that changes everything . . . I hope
that as you read these words God’s heart will speak into yours and you will
resonate to the beauty and perfection there.

“All I want to say to you is ‘you are the Beloved’ and all I hope is that
you can hear these words as spoken to you with all the tenderness and force
that love can hold. My only desire is to make these words reverberate in
every corner of your being – ‘you are the Beloved’.”

There’s a beautiful worship song that says, “if we could see how much He’s
worth, His power, His might, His endless love. Then surely we would never
cease to praise Him.”

Who is this God? This God who calls you and me Beloved?? Who found us
worth sending His only Son to die for? Who loves us without reason and
beyond measure? Who cares not that we choose ourselves over Him day after
day, cares not that we will never love Him well until He Himself perfects
us. Loves us from before eternity, before we ever had anything to offer,
anything to show. Who knows the very deepest and darkest parts of our
hearts . . . Those saddest, most painful, most difficult parts . . . . And
loves us even more because of those.

He waits, ever-present, whispering into our hearts, “my Beloved”, believe
yourself beloved . . . . . I find this truth central to my faith, the very
core. He loves you and me, without reason and without condition, and that
love has changed history and eternity.