The Crazy Adventures of an American Mzungu

We drove down the red clay road no wider than the tires of local boda bodas (motorcycle taxi) in a fourteen passenger van. The rain clouds were rolling in faster than we made our way down the makeshift road. My mom, friend from the States named Lura, Ugandan friend Lisa, and I all prayed the rain would hold off long enough for God to do something in the hearts of Lisa's Muslim family. I once visited this family, and was able to share the scene of the Throne Room of God with them. Because of the rain, I needed to leave before I was stuck in the village. Lisa faithfully ministered to her family, and used her trials in life to teach them the hope of Christ. We did not want to be chased away by the rain again. We pulled up to their twenty by thirty foot home, and as the children swarmed us with hugs and love, rain began to fall on our faces. We were already there, and could not leave the moment we arrived. So we crowded into the smallest sitting room imaginable. Ten women and count

Some of our children come from areas around Kampala. When they are out of school, we will send them home to visit families. This holiday, they were gone for two weeks and there were five of them. The house just seemed so quiet. Sure, there was still plenty of noise, but not to the extent of fourteen children enjoying life and running wild. By the end of their stay, I was ready for them to come home! I estimated what time they would be home, and every time I heard anything at the gate or any honk outside, I went to see if it was them. Finally they arrived home at around 8 in the evening. We had just started our nightly prayers, and were in the middle of a song. I saw the headlights through the gates and screamed to the top of my lungs, waving my arms in the air, and skipping out of the house. Everyone else followed shortly. The kids piled out of the van screaming with pure excitement. Ivan, who is just a solid rock of muscle, jumped into my arms as he shouted the most beautiful words

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice.” Philippians 4:4 reminds us to have a spirit of praise in all circumstances. It does not say to rejoice in the good, when ministry is smooth and all things are going the way you pictured them. Nor does it say to give up in times of struggle. It says to ALWAYS rejoice, to be in a spirit of praise through thick and thin! The past few weeks have been a battle. Living in Uganda means you are surrounded by images of poverty, brokenness, and death on a daily basis. That alone will encourage anyone to lose a spirit of praise. But of course, that is not all I deal with. Lately, it seems like everything is coming down at one time. Dear people in my life are struggling, including people back in the States. These are people who I use to be there to hold a hand through difficult times, and now they are going through something else and I am halfway around the world. A couple have confessed they wished I were there instead, and no matter how much