Wonderings and Wanderings

The true team - Dominicans, Haitians, and Americans (and a couple of Canadians thrown in.)

I returned Saturday evening after eight days in the Dominican Republic working with Servant’s Heart Ministries. I led a team of six others from our church.  It was an amazing week of ministry, of relationship-building, of warmth! (literally since it is snowy here and sunny there).

I love to travel, to immerse myself in other cultures, to meet the large family of God. I find joy in bringing a team along – especially newbies who remind me of the first-time awe and joy of a mission trip.

I’m grateful for the physical reminders of what daily life is like for the majority of the world.  Did you know that if you make $35,000/year, you are in the top 5% of the wealthiest individuals in the world? Rich is relative.  Riches are relative.  I’ve met more joyous and grateful individuals in my travels around the world then I do in my community here.   I’m not romanticizing third-world nations or pretending that everyone in these communities are just simply happy folks and pure of heart.  They are human and there are individuals in every community that are negative, opportunistic, greedy, and self-centered. Every community has them.

But there are so many who demonstrate joy, hope, and peace regardless of their wealth or possessions (or lack thereof.)

One of the things that continually impressed us during our week of service were the volunteers.  They came from the community (not all from the church) and they gave their time and their strength to the construction project.  We were amazed at their hard work.  We were humbled by the shoes they wore that were literally held together by threads.  We were challenged by their since of community – sharing what little they had with one another.  If someone brought a bowl of rice and beans for lunch, one would take a bite then pass the bowl to the next person.  No one took more than their share.  The same with water and with tasks on the site.

In our culture of individualism and self-reliance, we have much to learn from those cultures, who often out of necessity, developed a value for community and continue to protect and nurture that value. Working together, we accomplished an amazing week of work.  Working independently, we would have nothing to show for it.

….But I do know when I’ll be back again. (if things go according to plans which you never know.)

I head out early Friday morning with a team to the Dominican Republic. We will be working with our partners, Servant’s Heart Ministries, in Sosua, Dominican Republic.  We usually spend a week with them each June doing a mobile medical clinic.  However, we are coming this week to help begin construction of a permanent medical clinic at a location where we use to do a mobile clinic.  How exciting to see the community come together and provide for this great need. There is no care for thousands of people in these areas.  What little care there is they often cannot afford.

The clinic is being built onto a local church and it has been the pastor of this church that has dreamt this project and seen it into reality. To me, it is such a wonderful testimony to why the church is here.  Not just to tend to the spiritual needs but the physical needs as well.  Jesus modeled for us the need to meet physical needs – like hunger, thirst, and yes, healing – before someone is able to listen to truth that will heal the soul.

I will be posting updates from our trip on our church’s mission blog. Please feel free to check in each day and follow our progress throughout the week.

When I was at the prison in Uganda visiting with the men, I had a few inmates ask me if I would send them certain items. I wasn’t surprised. I probably would do the same thing if I were in their shoes and had limited access to new items.  One man asked me to send him a guitar.  I was fairly confident that I would not be able to do that so I gave him my firm yet gentle regrets.

Two other individuals asked me for reading material.  One inmate, who actually serves as the “minister” for the gathering, ask for the publication “Our Daily Bread” – a devotional magazine.  I’m familiar with this publication and thought it would be fine to send and a good source of encouragement.

The other request, however, is my dilemma. An inmate asked me for a specific book and I had him write the title and author down for me so I would make sure to get it right. I made it all the way back with this little slip of paper and just last week, I finally got around to checking for it on Amazon, hoping it wasn’t an old book that perhaps is out of print now.  To my surprise, it is actually a best-seller.   The problem is that the book is written by the prosperity gospel guru, Joseph Prince. (gag, cough, gag) Thus, my dilemma.  I hate prosperity gospel.  There is nothing sound about prosperity gospel.  I think I’d rather send him the Left Behind series and believe me, that is not said easily.  The prosperity gospel is very popular in East Africa and it grieves me each time I think of it.  So much harm is done in the preaching that God wants to bless you with wealth, property, the perfect family, etc. for your righteous living. There is nothing biblical to support this claim yet millions believe it.  Millions send money to organizations like Prince’s.  Money they don’t have to send.

So, what do I do? Do I ignore this man’s one request?  Do I send him what I think he should have because I think what I believe is better?  Do I send him Prince’s book and trust the Spirit to be the Voice of discernment in his life? Do I send it believing there are a lot worse books he could be reading?  (A small list but yet maybe anything written by Ann Coulter or by me in the first grade.)

I’d welcome your thoughts and suggestions, friends.

Luzira Prison

On the last day I was in Uganda, I spent some time with several men on death row at the Luzira Maximum Security Prison in Kampala, Uganda. The inmates are referred to as “condemned men”.  As we went through all the security points and the long walks through various hallways and doors, we finally arrived to the waiting room outside the courtyard.  Through the bars we could see the men – all dressed in white uniforms of shirts, shorts, and sandals.  The all-white uniforms stood in stark contrast to brown skin.

They spotted us easily and were curious as to why five white women were preparing to enter the area where they freely roamed. As we talked among ourselves about our curiosity and fears about what was going to happen next, I wondered what they were talking about. It had one of those “first-day-of-camp” feelings where groups are sizing each other up, unsure of each other and what the experience will bring.

I soon learned that we were going to “fellowship” with them which means we were going to have a worship gathering together. I learned that worship together in Uganda was often referred to as “fellowship”.  Sounded great.

We entered the secure courtyard and the sea of men parted like the Red Sea. We crossed through exchanging smiles and glances with the prisoners.  It was strange to think that we were walking through the center of 60-70 condemned men with our two guides and one or two guards.  Nothing like I would imagine death row to be in the states.

We entered a side courtyard where some men had already gathered and where the musical instruments were gathered – ready for fellowship – an accordion, some drums, and some shakers made from aerosol cans. We sang songs together for about twenty minutes and it was great to look out over the faces of about 30-40 men worshipping together.  There were young men and old men.  Some were light brown; others dark brown.  Some were Ugandan.  Others were not. Some were believers. Some were just curious about their visitors.

For twenty minutes we sang praises together.  There was so much joy and warmth in that room.  So much common ground as we worshipped God together – men and women who equally fail and who equally are offered grace.  “There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus.” Romans 8:1

After singing, we were each invited to introduce ourselves. Someone shared that I was a pastor and that “a word” would be expected.  This was a situation that I had never been in before.  What do I share with 40 condemned Ugandan men? God brought to mine this passage from Paul’s letter to the Romans (chapter 5):

¹⁶Again, the gift of God is not like the result of the one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification. ¹⁷For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ.

¹⁸Consequently, just as the result of one trespass was condemnation for all men, so also the result of one act of righteousness was justification that brings life for all men. ¹⁹For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.

²⁰The law was added so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, ²¹so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

I’m so grateful for the leading of the Spirit who reminded me of such a promise. A promise for these men who were condemned by law yet could be made righteous through grace.  A promise for me as well – standing before them as once a condemned sister yet set free by the abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness through the one man, Jesus Christ.

Glory be to God. And blessings and grace to my brothers in white in the Luzira Prison in Uganda.

Has it really been almost two months since I posted last?  Sorry about that. It hasn’t been for a lack of things to blog about but rather from an abundance of living.  November was a blur but a wonderful blur.

I spent two weeks in Kenya and Uganda on vacation.  I have an amazing amount of different thoughts and feelings to blog about from the trip. I think about them and ponder them yet struggle to restrict them to letters on a page.  Returning to life here has also been a return to massive amounts of distractions and clutter in my head and heart.  Is it any wonder that you go to sleep an optimistic, hopeful twenty-something and wake up a stunned, numbed thirty-something?

In the next few days,  I’ll try to share some different thoughts/reflections from my time in Africa and what I’ve continued to process since being home these two weeks.  Thoughts on playing church versus being the church.  Reflections on the good that is occurring in places where the bad has appeared to have the upper hand.  Thoughts on amazing people I met.  Reflections on being white in a world of black.

Something I didn’t expect was so much reflection on my singleness.  In Africa, it is very rare and unusual for a woman not to marry.  Even more rare than it is in America.  In Africa, people are incredulous that you embrace singleness.  They never accept it. They always end the conversation with “perhaps next year”.  It isn’t so much that they want me to be married as they want me to be a mom.  Not because they believe I would be a good mom but because I’m female and that is what females do.  We have babies. Lots of babies.

These discussions don’t bother me.  I usually find them humorous and slightly rebellious.  Go me.

However, it was a short truck ride with friends after a trip to the zoo with seventy Ugandans kids that got me thinking.

We were sharing different favorite songs via our mp3 players and the truck’s sound system when someone posed the question, “What song would you want someone else to sing to you?”  And by someone we meant someone in love with you.  The other three individuals are in their mid to late twenties and pretty quickly named their song.   As I started to think about it, I realized that I had no clue.  When I was their age, I probably had a song that I played on repeat as I dreamt about that special someone. But that idea or dream is so distant, I had no song to suggest.  I’ve done such a good job not focusing on relationships that I no longer had a dream to share.

A few years ago, I made the conscience choice to not listen to overly romantic music or watch a lot of romantic movies or read romantic books.  Occasionally I do but not enough to capture my heart and daydream like they use to do.  The choice was made for my health and benefit.  I didn’t want to waste thoughts or dreams on things that weren’t a part of my life and that I honestly wasn’t sure I wanted in my life.

But in that little truck outside Kampala, I wondered if maybe I had been too successful in my choice.  If maybe I had controlled this part of my life so much that I no longer am able to dream or be open to falling in love and sharing a life with someone.

And since then I’ve been bothered by this realization.  Bothered by the idea that perhaps instead of hearing a word from God about the call of singleness for my life, I’ve tried to control that which I have no control over.

There is a reason control is so alluring, so seductive, so deceiving.  There is a reason that control is a coping mechanism.

It is one thing to embrace singleness while still remaining open to whatever life brings.  It is another thing to embrace singleness so tightly that your face is buried in its chest.