Plead the Cause Blog
Building the Church 29 Jul 2010
Our focus on the islands of Lake Victoria has been to build the people and leaders of the church prior to constructing buildings so that the spiritual structures can continually support the physical structures once put into place. I've seen far too many great buildings that sit largely empty because the strategy was backwards.That said, we've been working with Life Church in a fishing village called Kaaya, on Lulamba Island for the last couple of years. We've taken multiple teams to do evangelism, held teaching seminars, and trained the senior pastor and one of the elders in our leadership school last year. We've seen some great changes (new affiliation, growth, etc) and have sensed a humble, teachable, faithful spirit on the members and leadership. We've expressed our desire to them to continue resourcing their growing church as time goes on.
A few months ago, their mud and stick building that they had occupied for about 7 years collapsed in the heavy rains. We visited them and saw the ruins of the place we had been ministering and felt urged to assist them in constructing a semi-permanent structure on the rented land they've secured and are working to buy. 
We had bought them a tarp to meet under temporarily as they had been gathering under a tree for a number of weeks - the pastor said the people were starting to get discouraged from coming because of the heavy rain. As time went on the community had even begun to mock the church and their God as they walked by the ruins of the old church and multiple new cult religions began to build their own small shelters near the church's property.We spent some time researching the costs of a simple pole and iron roof structure that could accommodate up to 150 people and be expandable for future growth at a cost of around $2,500. The church members began pitching in with the purchase of bricks, some sand and stones to mix into concrete, and raised some funds that altogether accounts for about 10% of the cost of the project.
Tuesday we sailed the 2.5 hour trip to Kaaya on to deliver materials and start the project. After months of planning and finding the right builder, we were finally ready to go, and had spent Monday/Tuesday in purchasing materials in Kampala city to take to the island. We had unusually smooth waters and no rain for our cement (a big answer to prayer!).When Pastor David and the members of the church met us on shore, they couldn't stop hugging us and thanking us for the great gift we had brought them. They quickly ushered us to some benches to eat bananas while they unloaded 2 tons of cement, iron sheets, iron bars, nails, door frames, etc, and carried them the quarter mile up to the site. When everything was safely stowed in and around the pastor's small house, the believers gathered under their now fraying tarp and began to beat drums, dance and sing their praises to their God who had answered their prayer for a shelter of their own. With our coming and the subsequent construction, the mouths of the mockers were stopped - our God is in fact able to help his people!
We awoke yesterday morning and decided how the church should be situated - paralleling the main road and facing the community, with room to double in size as the church and community grows. The church will be the first building as you enter Kaaya landing site, a community of around 500 people, the building seating around 100. Many of the church came out to crush rocks for the concrete, and we spent our time clearing the site and advising the builder on exactly what we were wanting. The pastor gave us free reign to decide where everything should go and how it should be, rejoicing at the good plan we had put together, and excitedly running around to show everyone the sketch of the finished product.
At one point, we walked up to the next village to talk to a man who owns much of the forest on the island so they could get busy logging trees and cutting them to size for the rafters. The green wood will take some time to dry, so we wanted to get it cut as soon as possible. The builder we finally chose for the whole job is a great brother who has worked on quality projects in Kampala, and really seemed to know what he was doing, even in primitive working environment with limited resources. He was planning to plant all 16 iron poles in the sandy soil with reinforced concrete the first day, and holes were being dug as we had to leave in the afternoon, as we had to arrive home before dark on the water.We rejoiced in such a successful start in this mission of edification for the church in this practical way, as we shivered in the rain on the way home.
The project should take about 2 weeks to complete; we left Peter there to oversee the work for the start, and we'll have to send some more materials out and make a return trip to inspect the final product. If all goes well, we'll be right at budget, have a great builder, have good cost sharing/ownership from the church, and give 75+ souls a place to worship their Savior, safe from the elements.We're anticipating that this will be something we'll replicate to help more remote island churches in the future - as their leaders become trained and their congregations attain a measure of spiritual health and maturity, they begin to grow and need shelter to meet in. We're currently involved with around 50 island churches, most of which will need new buildings in the next few years.
It’s such an exciting thing to see physical buildings erected, especially when we’re confident of the integrity of the spiritual House.
Kituufu: "That's Right!" 9 Jun 2010
It was just coming to 5pm as we carefully glided our 30' Sesse canoe past various underwater obstacles into Kituufu's tiny bay. "It's either going to be a short meeting, or a drive home in the dark." I said to my co-pilot, Seth Sokoloff, with a knowing grin. "Actually it will probably be both." The YWAM team we were transporting had been a few hours late due to unforeseen problems so we had already missed half a day's worth of ministry, canceling out a church meeting and door to door evangelism, remaining with only an outdoor evangelistic crusade to complete in the next hour or so.Pastor Joash Batwaya pointed to a decent landing spot and as I steered our ship filled to capacity with 20 inhabitants, a similar vessel came alongside. Rastafarian Alan Somebody unintentionally collided with a third boat coming into port to the disdain of all passengers involved. The scene quieted quickly since such incidences are so commonplace, and we began unloading our sound system and generator to set up for the big event. As we went about our business, the dreadlocked driver was making comments in the Luganda language, suggestively mentioning he ought to get saved, since our young ladies were so good looking. He tossed a Luganda greeting my way so I shot back my familiar response words, prompting the usual surprised looks and comments that a Muzungu knew a bit of their mother tongue.
Alan spoke in English this time as we stood side-by-side securing our engines and clearing out our boats. "Take a drink of this lake water. I did when I first came to these islands, you should too!" We didn't quite understand what he was shooting at, so let it go and finished our business. The crusade started up in moments without a hitch, despite the church members waiting for us since 10am. Many had become tired and had left, but a small crowd of 25 began singing and beating drums while the generator roared to life and brought with it terribly joyful noises from screaming worship leaders on faulty microphones.
I was called upon to preach with approximately five minutes' notice, and looked to Jesus for the words to say. I was suddenly led to Isaiah 55:1-2, a passage I had not been meditating on and hadn't read for some time: "Ho! Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat. Yes, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend money for what is not bread, and your wages for what does not satisfy? Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good, and let your soul delight itself in abundance." The message went on to admonish the onlookers to seek satisfaction in the only One who gives living water, causing them to cease their search for fulfillment.
Somewhere in the discourse, I began to talk about drinking from the lake, and noticed Alan standing off to my right, just behind one of the speakers we had placed on a nearby roof. He had been listening, but began to walk away at that point, so from the microphone I called him back to his place and informed the crowd what he had spoken upon our arrival just an hour prior. Now I had his attention.
Michael Kyazze closed out the message and invited the people to surrender their lives to Jesus in the Luganda language. Alan was not only among the seven villagers that responded, he was the
first to step forward in front of everyone to receive salvation by faith. When asked what made him come forward, Alan said he's a mature guy and wants to make good decisions, and this is the best decision he could make. Michael drew his attention to the Rasta gear around his wrists and neck, and instructed him to remove the paraphernalia as a sign of being born again and a new life in Christ. When he hesitated, one of my students from our discipleship program at Life Church stepped in and shared his own story of freedom from the same bondages Alan had faced.After prayer for our new converts and prayer for sick individuals, the pastors from Kituufu went around collecting names and personal information to ensure proper follow up once our team left. I was confident in their work, as the lead pastor and his wife trained in our Bible school some years back. When all was finished, Pastor Milton quickly ushered us to his small mud and thatch home in the fading light to show us his pet crocodile that had recently been captured on the island.
We prayed for their growing family, rushed to the boat, and in minutes were on the water, headed for Osanidde Village where we would lay our heads for the night. The outline of hills were barely visible on the horizon, but I had memorized their shape upon our departure, and just as I began to doubt my coordinates, the solar powered lights from the orphanage flickered in the distance. I grinned again at Seth. "A short, good meeting, and a dark ride home!"
Human Sacrifice 24 Feb 2010
Over coffee with some of our greatest friends in Uganda tonight, we heard the horrific tale of a young lady currently being rescued from a children's prison camp. Without disclosing the gruesome specifics of her story, I will report that this 13 year old, HIV infected girl was placed by her surrogate mother into the care of a witchdoctor operating a shrine some few hours from their family home. During her years at this place of demon worship, the male witch and his female assistants would regularly carry out ritual sacrifice with human babies as their victims. Our dinner table conversation didn't go into the exact methodology of the slayings, but our friend indicated that the girl had described the primitive destruction of these precious lives in terrible detail. At one point, she was even forced at knife point to drink a full cup of human blood. Her faith in God was strong and after witnessing of the forgiveness of Jesus to one of the butchers, some light dawned in the woman's heart and they escaped together to Kampala city, with the girl eventually landing in the children's prison for lack of a better place to accommodate the destitute orphan.This reality is unfathomable to me - that in the year 2010 in a rapidly developing nation like Uganda, human sacrifice is still widely practiced throughout the nation with very little protest from the general populace, let alone from the 80% that claim to be some form of "Christian." Other than occasional mentions in the local news, there is no outcry for the closing of such shrines, of making the practice of "traditional healers" illegal, or even for neighbors or the otherwise informed to report such wickedness to civil authorities.
But as we considered this atrocity, a similar situation came to the forefront of our conversation - a parallel brutality that is widely accepted throughout many "modern" cultures throughout the world. This sterile killer's softened terms ("termination of pregnancy") have helped murder become a socially acceptable "mother's choice," but the practice is no less brutal or wicked than human sacrifice on the dark continent of Africa.
Whenever my wife and I are about to deliver a newborn baby, I get crazy about this subject. To even consider the snuffing out of a precious human life, whether from inside the womb or without is an evil that only the completely deceived or demonically possessed could attempt. I know many people around the world who have carried out abortions, terminating the life growing inside their bodies, either from convenience or to cover up their unrestrained infidelity. In every case I've personally known, the destruction of life produces internal sorrow and regret that far outweighs the shame of producing an illegitimate baby or the inevitable interruption of child-nurture.
As I pondered the merciless massacre of Ugandan babies at the hands of demon-crazed, money-hungry witches, I couldn't help but think of an American t-shirt slogan from one of my favorite advocacy-for-life sites: "Would it bother us more if they used guns?" cries the graphic, while displaying a handgun and the group's website address. What of using machetes, as they do in Uganda? I think it should bother us a lot.
"Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and needy." - Proverbs 31:8-9.
At the Booking Desk 29 Dec 2009
I've been standing at Delta's ticket counter long enough to browse all the iPhone travel applications, decide I probably don't need one, download a blog updater, and write this post.We've now missed hours of sleep and an amazing breakfast feast at Embassy Suites in exchange for a greasy egg and sausage biscuit from Wendy's and long lines. Instead of casually enjoying a Starbucks with my wife, we're rushing through PDX attempting to make our itinerary fit into the matrix of the largest airline in the world.
It's really not Delta's fault; the problem is an unresponsive attitude indicator--an old school piece of aviation machinery that relies on a spinning gyro to demonstrate the pitch and roll of the aircraft relative to the horizon. Our captain pleaded with the little guy, poked and prodded it, and finally admitted his failure and our mutual frustration. We all deplaned once maintenance confirmed it would take too long to make our connections. The good news is that someone saw Virginia's protruding tummy and booked us an extra infant for this return flight. Glad we don't have to pay for that.
The staff has been downright cheery, seemingly enjoying disgruntled customer handling long before dawn. My attitude indicator is still registering in the green: we'll still get home on time with our bags, Josiah will survive (as long as the DVD player does too!) Virginia will get to sleep in her own bed, our joy-riding infant will continue forming at an alarming rate, and we'll get to see the inside of Minneapolis. "Don't fret, it only causes harm."
I realize I haven't written on this blog since August and when I finally did it was concerning one of the lesser exciting events of our lives. I also realize that in my usual writing style I enjoy using a little story from my personal life as a launching point to instruct my readers in a spiritual truth. Today I just had some extra time and wished we could have been spending it together instead of the above non-adventure...
Update: Virginia called from Gate D7 to tell me that Maintenance fixed the indicator early and they were reboarding the flight. Since we were already in process out front, our bags (and now we ourselves) won't make our original flight. And this new app erased my entire post when the phone rang...so this is a re-write. Sad.
Update2: I busted through security and literally ran to our new Gate D8 alongside two new Delta friends to find my frantic wife nearly in tears, immobile with 3 large carry-ons, a two year old, and no husband to board with. The valiant workers finally worked past the glitch in the system and got us onboard within minutes of takeoff. We moved approximately 8 feet before the captain sadly announced that this plane also is experiencing technical difficulty and Maintenence would be called in for a flap problem. Unbelievable.
Mercifully this one was short, we're now in the air, Josiah is resting his sleeping head on my arm, and barring any unforseen setbacks, we'll glide into Entebbe on schedule. I just hope Zane got my txt about picking us up...
-Brent
Doors of Hope on Windows of Soul 10 Aug 2009
I remember slipping into the back row of the wooden plank church shelter, curiously resembling a single-wide trailer. The narrow building was lined with rough cut benches and a smattering of homemade sitting implements, all uninhabited for the time being. The vibrant, dancing praise from the small congregation was unusually devoid of dust, as the freshly cut grass floor covering the pale sand padded the excited worshippers, so thrilled to have their small village chosen for meetings of this sort. The Church was situated 100 yards off the shoreline, and in this windy season the steady sound of breakers striking Senero’s beach was a welcome addition to our song and dance. Our team of 14 outnumbered the local attendees on this Tuesday morning, but as the leader began to bellow “Mpambatira Mukama,” a tune now familiar to our visitors, every hand was raised while voices confessed in the Luganda language, “My heart longs for You, I love You my God!”We had come to this landing site for a dual purpose: to pour gasoline on the flames glowing in the hearts of the few church members, and to plunder souls from the gates of Hell. Though I could go on and on describing the fruitfulness of the morning’s conference, the door to door ministry, the afternoon evangelistic meeting, and the evening showing of the Jesus film, there was one quiet moment unnoticed by all present, that was etched into my recollection that wild morning.
The boy was sitting next to his mother on the second-to-last bench as I came in with cameras poised to capture the moments of ministry delivered by members of Westside Church in Bend, Oregon. I had used enough stealth to arrive undetected by the other adults, but somehow caught the attention of this young child, no more than two years old. His double-take turned into increasingly longer glances until he swiveled around and faced me for an unashamed stare at this white intruder.
I can only imagine what the curious little guy was thinking, but as I looked into his unguarded eyes, all the busy logistics of planning and executing this difficult mission, the timeline for day, and even my current objective of capturing ministry endeavors on film all melted into painful reality. This kid lives here. He was probably born on these shores, stays with a splintered family in a filthy one room shelter, and knows no comforts but the rags that hang on his thin frame and the young mama by his side, busy breast feeding the newest arrival. In a fishing village of 500, with but one fledgling primary school and hours away from modern civilization, the little man has little prospects for a better life than his fisherman father who undoubtedly spends each night on the lake, toiling for food to eat.
Something about the stripling’s eyes made me reconsider my pitying thoughts midstream. Because of our close proximity to the backdoor, I could see a perfect reflection in his eyes of what now looked to me a glimmer of hope. The light streaming in from the open door encapsulated at the edge of the boy’s soul reminded me of the whole point of our ministry in Senero, the whole point of the Gospel. Jesus’ Good News remains focused on the transformation of lives--lives that clearly include children such as this. Due to the message of the cross, this boy need not live his life in an impoverished struggle for survival devoid of abundant life. Regardless of his whereabouts or life circumstances, the young man can grow as a child of the King of kings, with all rights and privileges of the godly.As I quietly stole out the door to take my place in front of the Church, I soberly reconsidered my role as one who is called, equipped, and sent to point God’s children toward the hope of overflowing life. Jesus, burn it on my eyes!
A Recent Email 21 Jun 2009
Subject: Lessons from KibangaFrom: Brent Earwicker
Date: June 20, 2009 10:50:57 PM GMT+03:00
To: Westside Church Mission Team 2008
Hey Guys,
Hope you're all doing great in your respective corners of the world. I just got back from a 150 mile, three day tour of the islands, visiting some of the places we've been in the past year, checking on the pastors and their sheep and praying about where to take our teams in the next month. Pastor Joash, Uncle Michael, and I returned to both Kaaya and Kibanga where we ministered with you last summer and I wanted to fill you in on the details of what I found there, since I learned a thing or two on the trip.
In Kaaya, I think you could sense (as I did) that the people there were humble, genuine, and overflowing with the love of God. Reaching them this time, we found them in the same faithful state, simply loving Jesus and working for Him with pure hearts. Pastor David and Jim (the church elder who speaks good English and is writing the book about the islands) took us around the whole of Lulamba Island (where Kaaya is located) and a couple surrounding ones so we could get a comprehensive understanding of what the needs of the places are. After our little tour, we sat in David's house and told the church leaders that they have a different spirit about them (that Scripture from the book of Daniel) and that continuing to be humble, obedient, and faithful would surely exalt them in due time.
These simple guys really opened up the door to this "new" island chain, and a day after leaving we all agreed we should take the team to attack Lulamba with the Gospel. Pastor David had a dream days before he knew we were coming this week. The Lord showed him that we would be setting our tents in his front yard - this terrified him since the island is so primitive, without proper facilities, especially for a whole team of whites! We left blessed, and are excited to bless them back in a couple weeks.
The next day, in a rush to get to another location before nightfall, we landed at Kibanga and asked for Sunday (the guy who they called Pastor, who was our main contact for the ministry there last year). We found him, hurriedly asked him where we could buy a little fuel, and as we scurried to get it poured into our jerry can, he gave us the good news/bad news scenario: The pastor from the church up the trail forced all the new believers from our crusade to walk to the old church building for weekly fellowship. This was the right thing to do since there was not a proper shepherd in Kibanga. He said many of them are standing strong in the Lord and continuing to make the walk to church. That was exciting, good news!
The bad news is that Sunday's wife left him with their seven children recently. He was so disheartened by this and overwhelmed by the burden of caring and providing for them alone that he gave up fellowship with the Church and left the faith. We found him in this state. As I took his hands with Pastor Joash and prayed for him, it seemed he was even a bit embarrassed to pray publicly with us. But after, he did seem a bit encouraged, and we pledged to call him in the near future to see how he's doing.
The trip was about checking on folks and seeing new places, but really took on a ministry of encouragement in every place we landed. Pastor Joash continually commented on the importance and power of simply visiting people and encouraging them in the Lord, since the impact on the people was so evident.
One major lesson I learned from the follow up this week is that we definitely went about our ministry in Kibanga the wrong way. We should never have gone there to do evangelism without properly connecting to a nearby existing church unless we were prepared to start one ourselves with a called, qualified, equipped shepherd who would stay and carry on the work. You remember the spiritual heaviness in the place and the attack on us personally, on the equipment, the LandCruiser, and every part of that mission. Then in the eyes of the unbelievers and believers from the area, we put emphasis on a man who didn't have a stable home life and wasn't able to hold on to Jesus when times got rough. The people called him "Pastor," but the Master hadn't. We attempted to start a "fellowship" in the area without a leader and set them up for failure. Good enough, God still works all things for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. In the end, some were saved and are becoming disciples in a nearby church. But in future days, we'll for sure change how we go about our ministry here, especially in unreached fishing villages known for ghosts.
Just wanted to keep you in the loop and let you in on the follow up from your trip last year. Hope you're encouraged - please keep praying for all the precious souls on the islands!
See you soon,
-Brent
I Will Help: Stanley 3 Jun 2009
There is a young man who came to us a couple years ago as we were beginning our first leadership school on Bussi Island. His pastor spoke for him, recommending he join the class and learn how to be a minister of the Gospel. Stanley Kabuye was enrolled and after months of strenuous labor in the Word of God, attended his very first graduation ceremony, receiving a certificate in Biblical Studies.
Now, just over a year later, Brother Stanley has remained a leader in his local church in the small village of Mabamba, on Bussi Island. He’s gone from a shy teenager to a man on fire, desperately desiring to reach his island with the Gospel. He accompanies the teams that go out from the Mabamba Church, preaching on the trails and from house to house.Recently Stanley shared with his pastor the desire to learn to play the guitar. He knows that this uncommon instrument would be a big draw and that people would gather to hear him play and sing about his Savior. This ministry tool would provide a great opportunity to share the message of the cross with all who would hear him.
I’m willing to help Stanley with occasional lessons to get him started, but he must have his own instrument to use in training and in the work of evangelism. An inexpensive good quality acoustic guitar can be purchased here in Uganda for around $200. You can help Stanley Kabuye reach his island with the love of Jesus. Click here to help.
All contributions given through this site are tax-deductible through our administrative partner, The Cause.
I Will Help: Lawrence 21 May 2009
A few days ago I did an informal survey to the collective 1,000+ people that follow our ministry on Facebook and Twitter:If I were to regularly post pressing needs of personal Ugandan friends, would you be interested in giving small $'s to help change lives?
Many of our friends and followers said yes to this impromptu mission that goes beyond our regularly scheduled programs and ministries - they would want to be involved. So from time to time, you'll see posts on this blog, on Facebook, and on Twitter, that give you opportunity to turn your pocket change into life change for people we are personally in contact with. Any amount, from $1 and up, will make a huge difference in the lives of these needy friends.
Here's our opening occasion:
My friend Lawrence is a brother from our life group in Entebbe. He's been looking for a job for a few months and has done some odd jobs around our house in the meantime. His landlord has recently informed him that he must find a new place to live by the end of the month, and with no income and while caring for his two year old son, his situation seems impossible. To top it all off, Lawrence was robbed of all his clothes Friday while away at an overnight prayer meeting. I'm raiding my closet to get him more than one set of clothes to wear, but you can help us refurnish his wardrobe. Click here to help. All contributions given through this site are tax-deductible through our administrative partner, The Cause.
Update 12 June, 2009:
Thank you for your generous donations! The $50 that came in for Lawrence will not only help him with new clothes, but will also pay his rent for up to three months. A little bit goes a long way in Uganda.
Update 12 June, 2009:
Thank you for your generous donations! The $50 that came in for Lawrence will not only help him with new clothes, but will also pay his rent for up to three months. A little bit goes a long way in Uganda.
Foundations of Fruitfulness 11 May 2009
I had an important conversation with my dad last night. In our few minute video call via Skype, he inquired as to what our biggest encouragement has been recently. I responded that the worship times at church inside of the music ministry we’re helping to head has grown in leaps and bounds. To have an operational team and to be free from technical work to worship Jesus and lead others into His presence has been refreshing.“Your greatest frustration?” The continual setback of acquiring our own water transportation for the field God has sent us too. One year after buying our first boat, the thing still sits in our driveway, unusable. A mechanic sits in the town jail, and a new boat sits on the beach without an engine. A call this morning to the Yamaha center after a month of waiting revealed that it may be another month of sitting before they get new stock for us to purchase.
As I voiced my thoughts on how to meld the ministry on the islands with the local church and my manifest lack of knowledge on the merger, Dad reminded me of what season we’re in: “Don’t you think as an American, you want instant results when it really takes time to lay foundations for future fruitfulness?” His gentle reminders to not be so hard on ourselves or expect everything to happen immediately was just the thing my little overwhelmed heart and mind needed. He took the pressure off.
One of the elders at Williamson River Christian Fellowship did the same thing in January - instructing us to pace ourselves for the long haul, and that we ought to take whole weeks to stay at home and be refreshed when necessary. To hear this from our biggest financial backers was a sizable stress reliever. Our pastor at Family Life Church told us over a Bloomin’ Onion at Outback: “Of course you’re not fulfilled! This is plowing season! We’re not reaping the full harvest at the church here either. But we have our hand to the plow...”I’ve picked up a nice little nugget of literature off my shelf in the last few days: 50 Missionary Heroes Every Boy and Girl Should Know. This little chronicle of biographies written for children in 1913 is giving me a glimpse into the immense sacrificial labor so many went through to pave the way for the gospel throughout the nations. In bygone generations, it took years - sometimes decades - to win a single soul for the Kingdom. Here I am frustrated over some lost time with a boat engine while at the same time we’ve seen scores transformed by the power of the Word. In our 2.5 years in East Africa already thousands have been impacted by our simple proclamation of Jesus.
“...the good thing is that you guys are in this for the long haul. If if takes five to eight years to lay a foundation, it’s well worth the investment!” Thanks for the reminder Dad!
One Thing After Another 1 May 2009
This is an update on the April 7th post, "Happy Birthday."A few days after Geoffrey’s new baby boy had graced the world with his first cries in that awful clinic, I phoned him to see how the family was doing. He responded that the baby was fine and that the mom was in some good pain, but he then related some sad news. Because we were rushing to get Emily (his girlfriend) to the medical facility in time for the birth, Geoffrey had left the door to their one-room house un-padlocked in his haste. Because of the relatively remote location, thieves were plundering their meager possessions while Emily was laboring on the delivery table. They had taken her dresses, their only mattress, and other personal belongings that day, leaving the new Mom and Dad without the means to provide for their new child.
When Virginia and Kelly arrived at the house a day after the phone call with a baby bed, more clothes, various lotions, soaps, powders, toys, and an arsenal of new mom knowledge, they found Joel clothed in the three-month-old onesies we had given as a gift prior to the birth, and wrapped in Josiah’s old baby towel.Geoffrey and Emily are not married, either in our Western ceremonies or in the cultural African introduction. Because he took Emily to his home and began a new family without the consent of her parents and without paying the bride price for her, the parents are now demanding that she and Baby Joel move back to the village, more
than eight hours away, until Geoffrey can come up with the equivalent of $900. This sum is an enormous amount of money that will take him at least one year to work for, even with assistance and loans from his employer (us). This separation is a sad start for the new family, but comes as a natural consequence of doing things in an improper way from the start.But for such a tough life, they sure have great attitudes and smiles...
Are You Offline? 7 Apr 2009
I am an avid online computer user. As a free-lance missionary stationed in a relatively peaceful developing country in the 21st century, I have 64K ADSL piped into my residence over the land line from Uganda Telecom and broadcast wirelessly throughout the house. When I jumped on the MacBook yesterday and didn’t have access, I remembered it was the 6th and our prepaid monthly subscription had once again escaped my watchful eye and needed a recharge asap. I threw my son in the car, made the five minute drive to the service center in town, paid much too much cash to the teller, and immediately the gmail notifier on my wife’s Dell XPS verified we were back in action.
I use Twitter and Facebook to catch up with new and old friends and post updates on our lives in Uganda. I make full screen video calls on Skype (username: earwickers) and regularly keep in touch with hundreds of friends, family, and supporters via online email marketing software. I keep a blog (that you’re now reading), follow about 35 others’ blogs in a feed reader, constantly update a website, and even send international SMS/TXT messages from this handy machine. I have videos on YouTube, use an online music organization software, have five email addresses, four online banking accounts, and four sites I visit monthly to make charitable contributions to ministries our family supports. I download podcasts with iTunes to keep current on the teaching of our local church, and have downloaded a BibleReader onto my BlackBerry to make good use of daily wait times. I chat with missionaries in Romania, New Zealand, Kenya, and the United States via Gmail Chat, and can send my rent payments to my Dutch landlord through Western Union’s website.These are all wonderful tools that a modern-day missionary family can use to keep from the “out of sight, out of mind” mentality that plagues church/missionary relationships and stymies spiritual, emotional, and financial support, and these implements greatly increase productivity of various projects. But any ministry apparatuses of this nature have the potential to sap time and energy away from the real work of service.
Occasionally when I “stumble” around the web, or read others’ blogs, I find a plethora of babble about how to increase your Twitter followers, enlarge your online presence through daily blog comments, or best practices for Facebook pages and profiles. These advice logs would be fine if relegated to the corporate advertising world or multi-level marketers, but I’m reading sites of Christian ministries and local churches who are spending increasing mass amounts of time in the cyber-world that modern society is rapidly disappearing into. Just yesterday my friend Ejnar described the population of his native Denmark as empty shells, increasingly becoming like the machines they daily bow before. Another fellow missionary reported that the average American young person spends roughly 30 hours per week on the world wide web, not including other media (television, movies, and music). I’m guessing this figure is not any different inside or out of the Kingdom.
What if the Church of the Living God spent just 25% of that time per week in solitary prayer, waiting on the voice of Jesus and simply being with Him? How would our lives be transformed to start each day with an hour in the Secret Place? Is increasing your online presence as valuable as the expansion of His presence in your life, family, ministry, and business? Is making silly comments on friends’ ramblings so important that we miss a daily hour abiding in His unfailing Word? I think we understand the power of prayer, Bible reading, and worship in our busy minds, but our daily time log tells another story altogether. Our priorities have shifted from rising early to seek His face to staying up late to seek friends on facebook. The minutes of contact we might have had to broadcast the everlasting Gospel to passersby are now spent “tweeting” what we are up to (or not up to) at any given time. We eagerly check a roster of regular bloggers to discover the opinions of man, but forget to check with the Holy Spirit for His wonderful counsel and excellent guidance.
Maybe it’s our self-sufficiency that deceives us into putting other gods before Him. Or maybe we are bored of God’s presence after our multiple failures to hear from Him. Whatever the case, we must make a massive movement back to waiting on Him and obedience to His directives.
I’m very blessed to not live in the 1800s where hand-written letters took three months to cross the ocean, and I’m clearly not advocating a boycott of the internet or calling for the destruction of smartphones. But as disciples of Jesus and ambassadors of His Good News, let us have our priorities in order and not make our profusion of ministry tools an end in themselves to the detriment of abiding in Christ.
Happy Birthday! 27 Mar 2009
“Geoffrey asked to leave work and go check on some problem at home. He said he would call if he needs a ride to the hospital,” my wife stated as I rounded the corner of the front porch to walk the yard with our 14 month-old Josiah. We both knew our day guard/gardener’s live-in girlfriend was great with child and due in a couple of weeks, and figured she was heading into early labor. A few minutes later, Geoffrey was on the phone, urging me to meet him on Entebbe road as soon as possible to take his lady to get medical care. My trip to Nsonga Island had already been canceled for the day, and I found myself in the LandCruiser on Entebbe road, Geoffrey running toward me in his long-sleeve collared shirt, slacks and polished black dress shoes.“I think the baby is coming today,” he said as we bumbled down the long muddy track to his one room house in a nearby neighborhood. “You said you have a friend who is a doctor?” I was surprised the man hadn’t planned ahead when he had a good nine months of prep time for this critical event. I indicated that we would need to go with a facility closer than the 45 minute drive to Mulago, but he was hesitant to take her to the government hospital where so much mistreatment has been common in recent days. His girlfriend (a good foot and 1/2 taller than his 4’10” frame) came out of the unplastered, bare brick home and in great pain settled herself into the front passenger seat while a sister and Geoffrey threw a suitcase in the back. Back on the narrow mud lane, the sister began to give directions to a “good” clinic she knew of in nearby Kitoro as I gingerly veered between waterlogged potholes and pedestrians, noticing this lady was in advanced labor and needed attention quick.
Minutes later, we cut the engine at what looked like the front porch of a decent sized, older home and rushed into the front waiting room to start the delivery process. Just inside, I was struck by the cigarette smoke hanging thick in the air and clinging to the thinly painted filthy yellow walls. Cracked mildewy ceiling plaster, rusted out window screens, and peeling health posters made me a bit hesitant to leave a desperate expecting mother to bring her child into the world. Geoffrey reassured me that this would be a great place for the delivery, and his girlfriend was ushered into the smoke-filled consultation room of the waiting European doctor. I knew it was only the personal loan I had helped Geoffrey with that would enable him to pay for even this terrible place. I wouldn't want to see the alternative.
No information was given to either Geoffrey or myself as we sat on hard wooden benches nervously looking around the dingy room. An old bumper sticker hung over the reception desk that ironically and hypocritically stated: “Health or Tobacco? Improve your heath, stop smoking.” I asked Geoffrey if he wanted to be in the delivery room with his ladyfriend, but he indicated that men were not allowed. After playing with my phone awhile and chatting briefly about my own limited experience at my son’s birth, I informed my friend I needed to get some things done today and that he could call me if he needed anything or if there were complications. The doctor had just gone back to his office (for a smoke, presumably) so I figured it may be awhile. But only 25 minutes after we arrived, we heard the anguished cries of a newborn wafting down from a dirty room in the hallway. I sat another few minutes, and the doc emerged from his hiding place to announce to “the husband,” “Congratulations, you’ve just had a baby boy!” He chastised Geoffrey for not bringing her sooner, but we were all relieved to hear everyone was healthy and well.
We waited 30 minutes more, assuming they were washing the baby or doing routine checks on his little body, but after some time we got impatient and went to see the little tyke. The new mother lay still on a metal-frame bed in a dark 5’x10’ room just next to another recovering lady. The newborn was too tiny, maybe half the size of my son at birth, snuggled up against his mom, embryonic fluid still clinging to his curly black hair. I congratulated Mom and Dad and disconcertingly walked back to the LandCruiser to pick up some yogurt and cheese for my wife on the way home.
A fellow missionary told me the other day that I was brave to have my own son here in Africa, while he had recently flown back to England to have his own. But I think the real bravery isn’t ours who land in international hospitals and have sterilized delivery tables and OB/GYN’s without cigarettes hanging from their lips. God bless these precious people who somehow survive childbirth and grow up to be someone great.
Cult-ure Clash 7 Feb 2009
In the 84 hours we've been back in Uganda, I've personally had quite the experience getting back into a different way of thinking and transacting business. My stories from the last few days could fill a small book and I could probably publish a study on the terrible ways cultures collide inside of daily life. But by far the most thought provoking event occurred early on Thursday afternoon in a small suburb of Kampala called Kawaala Kataka.Hannington, my outboard engine mechanic, had called the night before, urging me to meet with the man who supposedly wants to purchase our broken boat. Glad to have the opportunity to rid my driveway of a hunk of fiberglass and liquidate thousands of dollars at the same time, I agreed to meet the man at 11am. As I rushed out the door the next morning in an attempt to make the 45 minute drive and arrive promptly, I found that our beloved LandCruiser wouldn't turn over, once again the victim of fouled heater plugs and an inconsistently charged battery.
Soon after the rest of the household pushed me out the gate, I arrived to the agreed upon area and phoned Hannington for final directions. But because of language/understanding barrier, he was unable to say more than "go a little further…go down…it's just near…" and I ended up sitting on the side of the road for the good part of an hour, waiting for him to find me on foot. When he eventually did, we had forfeited our big man (who happens to be the former Major General of the Ugandan army) to an important meeting, and went to visit Hannington's sick cousin-brother in a mud/brick home nearby while we waited yet again.
Winding through dirty alleyways full of half-clothed children, waste water, and occasional small animals, we dead-ended at a small row of rooms bordered by a high brick wall not three feet from the front doors. Hannington went to find his brother in one of the tiny homes, while shouting towards an open door to a neighbor lady he described as a "real believer." The brother was away, but we requested this kind lady to come out so we could "have a prayer." After some coaxing past her timidity over not comprehending any English, I reassured her in the Luganda language that we could have a conversation, and she came out to talk.
We exchanged the familiar greetings in her native dialect, and she made some comment that Jesus is so good to send a "white" who would greet her in her mother tongue. I asked her after a bit, Osaba wa? (where do you attend church services?), and her reply startled me as she had the local testimony of a "real believer." She called Samuel Kakande her pastor, and she prays from The Synagogue Church of all Nations, a local congregation known by all the Born Again churches of Uganda to be a cult, following false teachings and idolatrous practices propagated by it’s founding leader. I’ve seen declarations on the back of taxis that proclaim, “Jesus of The Synagogue Works!” and after learning of this dangerous movement, I’ve been tempted to craft my own: “Jesus of the Synagogue is a Demon!”
I had read in Jeremiah 23 that very morning, where the true seer is declaring the word of the Lord in the face of false prophets broadcasting peace and prosperity at a time when the nation needed judgement for its wickedness and unrepentant heart towards God. The phrase that leaped from the page to my spirit was in verse 28: “...What is the chaff to the wheat?...” I had considered all the false teachers and their throngs present in this relatively small nation, and a confidence rose inside of me. We have the real thing! This worthless “gospel” that has prevailed upon the people for decades has no bearing on the Truth preached by humble, submitted servants of the Consuming Fire. Lying signs and wonders cannot stand up to the reality of the Living Bread that comes down from heaven! God’s Word truly is a fire and a hammer that breaks the rocks in pieces.
Because of time and linguistic hinderances (lack of a solid interpreter), I prayed a simple prayer over this sincere and deceived woman. I lifted my voice to the Father of her spirit that He would guard her against deception and false beliefs, drawing her to the Truth. We departed to find our general, with a renewed passion to preach Jesus crucified and risen again. With a zeal for the House of God and His Truth that makes men free, we will see this nation changed.
Breeding Lethargy 28 Jan 2009
Our visit to America for the holidays has been a wonderful treat, full of family, friends, food, and fun. And though it's been a restful time of reconnecting with the people and places we love, our beloved comfort culture sure has a way of breeding apathy in even the most zealous hearts.At one point during the first weeks of January, I remember playing Mario Cart on the Nintendo Wii with a smattering of family members. As I rounded a colorful bend on a fantasy track within the Coconut Mall, my parents' landline rang and the caller ID voice indicator said in mechanical monotone, "Call from [pause] unknown." International numbers don't register on our American call systems, and sure enough, a brother was calling in from Uganda to give an update from the front lines.
I wedged the phone between my shoulder and ear and continued to steer my standard cart up giant escalators as the annoying sounds of Baby Peach wafted down from the top left portion of the screen. "Hey Brother! Great to hear from you!" I offered as I gave him less than my full attention. After the usual greetings, my friend mentioned that he was participating in a week long fast to start out the new year in fervant prayer. Knowing that "fasting" for Ugandans means absolutely no food and no water, I timidly put down my steering wheel and pulled out of the race, musing over the last ten days of gorging myself on multiple breakfasts, gourmet coffee, fast food, and home-cooked Christmas dinner every night.
He talked hurredly, precious airtime eating away by the second. I knew this was an important call. "My children are in the hospital with malaria," he began, "and I wanted to use the money I owe you to pay their medical bills." Of course I gave him the free use of the $30 and he continued his string of bad news: "Sister Agaba's husband just died." I was shocked to hear that this elderly pastor who seemed to be in good health just weeks before was no longer present on the earth. Agaba graduated from our leadership school in December, and her husband had been at her side celebrating.
"The fisherman told me someone has stolen their nets..." I hung my head as I put myself in the shoes of this desperate band of men so close to breaking free from a survival lifestyle. We had put together the co-op and loaned them money for a boat while they had scrimped and saved for months to supply the nets. Just weeks into their venture, now they were back to square one.
We traded some words of encouragement and reiterated our mutual trust in the sovereignty and provision of our gracious God, and he was gone to tend to his sick children. I slowly put down the phone, having suddenly lost my appetite for the Coconut Mall.
How easy it is for us who live in luxurious America to forget the desperate needs of our impoverished world, so hungry both naturally and spiritually, while we waste costly time, energy, and resources on more and better comforts. God teach us to remember our brothers and sisters who suffer. Change our very lifestyles that they might taste eternal life.
Confirming the Word 19 Dec 2008
The Island Leadership School is sixteen weeks packed full of instruction in God's living Word. Current and aspiring Church leaders from many differing church movements come in knowing very little in regards to the Bible or how to use it in their lives and ministries and many don't even have a copy of their own. But at the end of this brief course we are attesting to a gospel that does not hold authority by nature of intellectual reason, but by a demonstration of the Spirit's power.In our last month before graduation, we gave a series of practical ministry assignments to encourage our students to become true "doers of the Word," with supernatural results. (Thanks to John & Sonja Decker for their model of hands-on ministry training that teaches everyday believers to "do the stuff" of real ministry).
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| Our students minister in small rural fishing communities like Senyondo (main street pictured above), where they reside. |
Jessica Agaba shared that she and another sister from the school were requested to pray for a certain neighbor girl who was afflicted with a strange illness. The two had just been taught and assigned to pray for the sick and cast out demons, so in preparation for ministry they spent a whole day praying in the church building. As the ladies entered the neighbor's home that evening, they found that the girl was not only sick, she was mentally disturbed because of demonic influence and had gone insane, being tied with ropes and chains to keep her under control. The two were surprised and a little fearful of the outcome since they had never prayed for a madwoman, but they spent the entire night in prayer for the girl and left in the morning without seeing full deliverance.
A day went by before the neighbor excitedly came to report that her daughter was in her right mind and that all sickness and insanity had vanished! The removal of physical fetters that bound and cut her wrists were an outward sign of a miraculous deliverance from demons removed through the prayers of these faithful ministers!
Stephen Sekanjakko entered the school in September too shy to speak to anyone about God, but as his community learned that he was being trained in a real Bible School, they began to call the young man Pastor, asking him to pray for their sick from time to time. Last week after participating in a local soccer match, someone requested that he come pray for a certain young boy who was suffering from epilepsy. Stephen was fearful and quickly found the excuse that he didn't have a Bible with him and wouldn't be able to go. The man continued to urge him, reiterating that he wasn't asking for a sermon, just prayer. Stephen finally complied, trembling as he went.
As this fledgling, Bible-less minister laid hands on the sick boy, he was reminded of a certain memory verse he had just completed for a class assignment and prayed it over the boy, claiming healing in Jesus' name. As he hastily left the scene, someone ran to him exclaiming that the boy had been healed! A crowd had gathered around the boy and all could see that a notable miracle had happened by the name of Jesus.
Yudaya Nabasumba went to a friend's house to return her borrowed Bible (her own had been burned by her husband who was no longer supportive of her Bible education and drastic life changes). As she handed back the Book and thanked the woman, the Holy Spirit prompted her to ask, "Since I've had your Bible these few days, what have you been reading?" The woman opened up and began to describe her discouragement and how weak she had become in her faith, along with her backslidden husband. Yudaya offered to pray for her, and as the two women knelt before the Lord in prayer, the Holy Spirit fell upon the woman, causing her to cry out for God to forgive her sins and help her and her husband to live right before Him. They continued this way for some time, and when Yudaya left the house, the woman's burden was lifted and she was felt free, forgiven, and encouraged.
These few stories are a small sample of dozens of miraculous occurrences from just the last four weeks. You should see the faces of each student as the realization comes that their God is alive, that He is the same today as He was in the Bible, and that He is pleased to use them to bring about His Kingdom. What an awesome privilege to teach the simple principles of Scripture and watch them work in the lives of needy people.
Sexual Discourse 15 Dec 2008
The other day in class, I asked my thirty adult students an important series of questions in response to one of theirs. “How do I explain homosexuality to a young child who asks me what the word means?” was their inquiry, and I had an inquest of my own to provide them with an adequate reply.“Raise your hand if your parents taught you about sex.” The embarrassed smirks that grew on every face in the room explained immeasurably more than the absentia of arms. Even Peter (my interpreter, administrator, and fellow minister) leaned over and stated in a hushed tone, “That doesn’t happen in Africa.” I went on with my interrogation:
“How did you learn about the sexual relationship?” The obvious response was through peers, culture, entertainment, hearsay, and ultimately through personal experience at too young an age.
“How many of you have children?” The majority of the gathering shot up their hands. I knew that most of them had at least two, if not seven children, some of whom were grown with families of their own. “Have you ever spoken with your kids about sexuality?” Again, the muffled laughter and quiet murmuring testified of their abdicated responsibility they never knew they had.
I’ve been told that within this developing culture at the onset of the twenty-first-century, with all the information available on the deadly consequences of HIV/AIDS, it is still a literal miracle to find a virgin girl to marry. People can talk about faulty healthcare or other causes of the lethal virus, but to be real honest, the fountainhead of the killer disease is completely sexual immorality--largely spurred on by a traditional and popular culture that refuses to address the issue or talk frankly about what happens in every man and every woman from the onset of puberty.
Peter informed me that local schools are trying to implement sex education to provide understanding to counter the silence at home. Parents are resisting even this, without offering to do the work themselves. It’s just too secret and too shameful a topic. And so a new generation, untaught and unknowing, continues to follow its impulses at the cost of their lives.
As I went on to explain the role of the parent in the life of a growing youngster, the lights began to come on. By the end of our Q&A session, the class was applauding and making commitments to inform their children so as not to lose them in the end. Even Peter paused his interpretations to inform me that he would be sharing with his twelve year old son that very week.
But here remains multiplied millions of African parents with sealed lips, continuing this terrible trend towards physical and spiritual death. God have mercy, and raise up a Church of strong, healthy families that will preach and teach the truth!
The Daily News 19 Nov 2008
These are a few headlines I found in one of our reputable national daily newspapers I picked up the other day to get the Ugandan scoop on President Obama:"Obama-Mania Hits Ugandan Fans"
Due to the fact that Mr. Obama is a real African, nearly 100% of Uganda "voted" for him in the recent elections, in expectation that their distant relative would then funnel all kinds of money to East Africa in honor of his roots. No one knows what he stands for, what his platform is, or anything else about the man, but they love their brother dearly.
"Child Rights Abusers Warned"
Because child abuse is prevalent in the majority of Ugandan households, cases of corporal punishment in schools, torture, child sacrifice, rape, child brides, forced school drop-outs and incest have come to the attention of local officials. An inset photo shows a girl of around nine years with chain and padlock on her wrists for stealing. Authorities have cautioned abusers to stop it.
"How To Stop Child Sacrifice In Your Area."
Another article states, "The bizarre act of sacrificing children by traditional healers is back..." and reports on multiple instances of the murderous practice in recent days around the country. The writer reminds community leaders of their responsibility to put an end to the sacrifices, instructing them to keep a close eye on all traditional healers (witchdoctors) in their villages.
"Albinos Live In Fear As People Seek Their Body Parts For Witchcraft"
The paper tells us that around 30 individuals with an unusually low amount of melanin have been killed in Tanzania this year by witchdoctors who sell arms, legs, hair, skin, and genitals to folks who posess a demonic belief that these members will enrich their lives. Midwives are known to kill babies born with the skin condition, declaring them stillborn and burying them secretly, while albino school children fear kidnapping by the proponents of this lucrative black market trade.
Just another day in Africa. God have mercy on these precious people so bound and blinded by the enemy of their souls.
Drunken Man Surrenders His Life to Jesus! 14 Nov 2008
Because of ignorance to the principles of God's Word, the Church on the islands of Lake Victoria has largely lived out a double standard, preaching salvation and coming to church meetings on multiple days of the week, but not showing true transformation in their day to day actions. This has caused most community members to shy away from |
| A young lady from the village submits her life to Jesus! |
But all that is changing because of the teaching of God's Word and the movement of the Holy Spirit. In the small fishing village of Ssenyondo on Bunjako Island, thirty students have been digesting and practicing God's living truths for the last three months, and the community itself is attesting to the drastic changes in the students. Pastor Mujabi testified that in his church at least one person is coming to be saved every Sunday morning since the school began. And nearly every week that classes are in session, a community member will wander into the church building where we are teaching, kneel down, and devote their lives to the Savior!
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| Newly saved Joseph with his "Mulokole" name tag. |
A couple weeks ago as I taught a class on Bible Survey, an inebriated drunkard named Joseph came to the door of the church just a few feet to my left and started shouting something in the Luganda language while waving a large tattered Bible over his head. Peter, our interpreter, motioned him to the back of the room, told him to keep quiet and that we would pray for him after the class. He quickly informed me what the man was shouting in his drunken state: “Long ago the bazungu (white people) came and preached here. They gave us Bibles, but most people sold them for money. I still have mine—here it is!” He had indicated that he wanted to give his life to Christ, so after thirty minutes of trying unsuccessfully to follow us quietly, we called him forward to pray for him.
Joseph looked at us somberly and with a slight slur declared that beer is wicked and that he was sick and tired of it ruining his life. He told us that all his money was thrown away on alcohol and that his life had fallen apart after backsliding into drunkenness years before. He knelt on a papyrus mat and lifted up his hands and we instructed him to pray a prayer of repentance. With large tears rolling down his face, he asked Jesus to forgive his every sin and to save his soul, and as I placed my hands on his head and chest, he looked into my eyes through his tears, a broken man.
With conviction heavy on his heart, he requested one of our school name tags that he could see on each of our shirts, explaining that after leaving the building, he wanted to be sure to declare to all he would meet that he really was a different person. We gladly obliged and promptly wrote on a new tag: “Mulokole,” (a Luganda word that indicates a person who has been born again) followed by his full name.
Joseph has re-joined the church after so many years of living for himself. He runs a small shop in town, and each week we stop by, greet him, pray with him, and encourage him in the Lord. A great transformation is coming to this small community as God's people raise up a standard of righteousness and live for Him.
Speechless 2 Nov 2008
You haven’t heard from me in a consistent way on this blog, mostly because we’ve been diligently working to serve multitudes of needy people here in Uganda on the islands of Lake Victoria to the neglect of reporting on it. But in the midst of all the projects and tasks we have going right now I felt compelled to share a little piece of our hearts for the forgotten during this critical hour that very literally determines the future course of the United States of America.As I've mentioned before, one of the themes of our service in Uganda comes from Proverbs 31:8-9:
“Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and needy.”
This has been a driving motivation for us for many years now: that we would become mediators between a pleasure-saturated, greed-loving, glory-hungry world and the destitute forgotten the world over. Of course these “speechless” include AIDS orphans in Africa. Certainly they are comprised of widows and refugees and slum-dwellers and those who live on less than a dollar a day. But the quintessential “poor and needy...speechless...appointed to die” are innocent children who live their short lives in acute vulnerability and are silently snuffed out by those discharged with the sole duty of bringing them to birth.
I’m writing this while watching my smiling 10 month old Josiah sing a contented tune of “ba-ba” from his prostrate position on the living room rug. Having become a new parent this year, the theme of rescuing “the speechless” has leaped from the political issue to the realm of daily living. And this abhorrent thought of “the deliberate termination of a human pregnancy” is no longer politics, but moral obligation. On Tuesday this week Americans everywhere will make their voice heard on their concern for the voiceless.
As US citizens living in a foreign land, we were privileged to vote absentee by mail a number of weeks ago and took the time to research the candidates (even the “3rd parties”), the issues, and the various things that are at stake in this pivotal election taking place mere hours from now. I realize there are multiple issues to ponder, but consider this: In the next four years, multiple members of the aging US Supreme Court will likely retire and the President will appoint like-minded members to the bar who are allowed to serve in their position for life. This election is not about Obama or McCain, but about the next 30-40 years of judicial decisions that will determine the moral course of our land. And if liberal, pro-abortion judges are set in (not to mention a liberal President signing law from a liberal Congress), we stand to see multiplied millions of the poor and needy appointed to die.
I’m not asking you to vote like Jesus would (undoubtedly he’d mention something about giving to Caesar the votes that are Caesar’s), but I am imploring you to vote according to Biblical principles and Godly values so that the rights and freedoms inherent to the foundation of our great nation might be applied to all members of the family.
Opening my mouth,
-Brent
PS - Check out a great article from my uncle Wendell Smith on "Principles over Politics."
Island Leadership School | Bunjako Campus 26 Oct 2008
On September 1st, 2008, we launched our second Island Leadership School in a small fishing village of 1,300 people identified as Ssenyondo (meaning "big hammer"). This "new" lakeshore location is on the island of Bunjako, just 25 miles and 1.5 hours by sea, and 68 miles and 3.5 hours by land (via land bridge through a large swamp) from our house in Entebbe.A new intake of thirty students have entered into 16 weeks of intense Bible training covering a variety of subjects similar to classes you would expect at a typical Bible school in the United States. Bible Survey, Interpreting the Scriptures, and Foundations of Christian Doctrine are core classes taught primarily by our American staff (Brent), while Local Church, Leadership, Spirit-Filled Ministry, Evangelism, and Worship are covered by guest ministers who volunteer their expertise to impart Biblical knowledge to our eager pupils.
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Our agenda is intense, both in the content we're attempting to cover, and with the great challenge of imparting so much to nearly illiterate elementary school dropouts who have an impoverished witchcraft worldview deeply implanted from childhood. Though our students hail from all over Uganda and Congo, all are fluent in the Luganda language and were taught basic English in elementary school, so we utilize an interpreter to instruct both in English and the Luganda language. We work hard each school season to translate more materials into Luganda (hiring a translator per page) and have them available to the students for their nominal school fee. That way each can go home with quality resources for further exploration and study and will be able to catch up on all they missed through slow writing skills.
We've set up this second mobile school so students can travel from all parts of the 10,000 acre island each morning (by foot or bicycle) and journey home each night in order that family life may not be disrupted. Because the program is only in session three days each week, doesn't interfere with normally scheduled church meetings, and has a short life span of four months, these leaders are willing to put in the extreme effort for a season, adding Biblical studies to their already full life of raising families, working jobs, and overseeing ministries.
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Each leader-in-training pays in 20,000 Shillings for the course (around $12), and our ministry pitches in around $250 for each student. Catering for thirty students becomes rather expensive for us, but is most likely the only way any of these precious servants would ever have access to such a program and this quality of training.
In the first eight weeks we have seen drastic improvements in the lives of each student. The testimonies we are hearing inside and out of class are more than worth the temporal investment of time, money, and energy expended, and watching lights go on in heads and hearts and witnessing true repentance and the makingof real disciples is both amazing and rewarding. It's been encouraging to see various individuals make contact with the Holy Spirit and then see tangible transformation in their lives. Marriages are being fixed, families put back together (or unrighteous polygamous ones split apart), illegal businesses are being converted, mindsets are being shifted, and the Spirit is daily dealing with life issues as we teach and pray.
It is humbling to be a part of the Church and watch the Master move in this forgotten place.
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"I'm Eating Eyeballs" 9 Oct 2008
Let me take a short reprise from more serious matters to describe a unique lunch episode I enjoyed this week:When Frank (our master chef at the Island Leadership School) queried whether we would enjoy “mukenne” in our beans this week, I much too hastily replied in the affirmative, my comment followed closely by a flood of not-so-pleasant memories of the smelliest town I’ve ever stayed four nights in. You can read all about our YWAM adventure in Lambu here, but for now let’s just declare that nine vomiting young adults and a fishing village that reeks of dead, putrid fish drying in the sun is not a happy mix. Needless to say, I’ve never tasted nor seen that these bite sized corpses are any good for ingestion, and until this week I had staved off any propositions to partake. (Last year I had also successfully avoided eating “ensenene” (grasshoppers) until a student gifted me a small fortune of the expensive snack).
But now, here I was with a sizable bowl of sweet potato and poscho (solid state cornmeal) awaiting the beany mixture I had previously requested. I assumed the little fishies would surely be mashed or pounded into powder like the small protein deposits in our German Shepherd’s dog food, but alas, their full bodies were intact--somewhat flattened and curled by the sun’s heat, now soaked in yummy bean juice, beckoning to me with their silent open mouths.
I tried to play it cool. Most Ugandans really love the stuff and the two teachers visiting the island with me were gleefully anticipating their midday meal, plotting with the local pastor how to commandeer some quantities of dried delicacy for their wives. As I took the first bite, my teeth ground the small chewy things as the familiar stench of Lambu filled my mouth and nostrils. “I’m eating eyeballs” was the first thought to reach my head, and devoid of any like minded white folk to share the experience, I exuded a quiet smirk and pressed on through a difficult meal.
Halfway through the monstrous bowl, I remembered the varied species of small ant in my dinner last night that I had discovered just following the large lake fly in my hot mug of sugar-sweet tea. And just then the realization came to me that this disgust for “visitors” in my nutriment is really fabricated in my psyche only and has no bearing on the quality of actual sustenance or even real savor. These things don’t taste so bad really. If I were blind and/or had super dim light to chew by, I would ingest more insects without my knowledge and therefore would be a more satisfied customer. And if mukenne were not indelibly coupled with a sickly experience in my recent past (as well as staring me in the face), I wouldn’t mind eating their eyeballs for every lunch. I think.
Any Questions? 5 Oct 2008
My top 20 all time favorite questions asked by my students (believers ranging from 17-60 years old; many of these folks have been serving Jesus for a number of years but have had no shepherds or fathers in their lives to feed them):1. As a new convert, can I hear from God like older Christians do?
2. What was God’s intention in becoming the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?
3. What is the difference between the Holy Spirit and angels?
4. The Bible says that Jesus sits at the right hand of the Father. If He and the Father are one, where is He really sitting?
5. At the marriage supper of the Lamb, who is serving the meal?
6. You said that God is omnipresent, but here in Luke it says that Jesus was in Capernaum?
7. Was God a duality [as opposed to a trinity] before Jesus came?
8. Why didn’t God save all the people who had snake bites? Why only the ones who looked at the bronze serpent?
9. If I understand that so-and-so is a false prophet, can I still go to him for my miracle?
10. You said Melchizedek was and Old Testament appearance of Jesus, and the Angel of the Lord is the same. So, is the angel who appears to Mary to announce Jesus’ birth also Jesus?
11. Did God intend for us to stay naked and foolish in the Garden forever?
12. If I’m living with someone I’m not married to, and on the way to sanctify my marriage I die, will I go to heaven or hell?
13. When I give my tithe to a certain man I get immediate blessings. Is it okay to give it to him if he’s not my pastor?
14. Are there different sizes of the Holy Spirit?
15. My worship leaders are dressing immodestly (wearing trousers) because they want to be like the whites. How do I discipline them without losing them?
16. What is that word “Selah” that we always skip when we read the Psalms?
17. If no man can see God’s face and live, how did Jacob wrestle with Him?
18. Is it right for a married couple to have sex on a Saturday night if the husband (a pastor) is going to preach the next morning? Are there not devils around?
19. The Bible says that all the fat belongs to the Lord. Should I not eat fat?
20. Why did God treat the whites of Israel more specially than the African Egyptians? We in Africa have a bad situation--can God redeem us to be in such a good situation as the whites?
Though many of these are mildly humorous, all of them reveal the severe dearth of understanding of God’s Word among Ugandan churches today. These leaders starve in a land with access to Bibles because they lack laborers to teach and impart to them. TV & radio preachers from America and other nations have succeeded in confusing the Church by emphasizing minor issues and downplaying the majors while each occupies himself on Sunday morning with songs and shouts and exhortations devoid of foundational truth.
What a privilege to be a part of the solution to this monstrous need.
Making Ministers 4 Oct 2008
To be honest, my flesh would much rather deal with selfish, whining young adults sitting across my large cherry wood desk while situated comfortably in plush chairs in my private office at Westside Church, as we counsel about the minute details of their lives, relationships, and ambitions. My computer would be quietly humming merely inches from my ready hand, my library carefully displayed on the side wall, my decor complete with floor-to-ceiling styrofoam globe that serves to remind me that I’m actually called to “the nations.” My paycheck would come on time, and coupled with my wife’s generous pay, I could even conduct lucrative real estate transactions in my spare time, enjoying ministry in a prospering seeker-friendly church that allowed me the freedom to preach, teach, lead worship, lead a small group, or do all at once if I so desire.I’d rather not deal with the-witchdoctor-cursed-my-children-and-they-died type of scenarios, or be confronted with the reality that a good portion of my class is dying from HIV, or after finishing six straight hours of teaching, feel obligated to pray for half a dozen ladies suffering from various illnesses and domestic trauma. It’s a bit taxing staying in lodges where prostitutes and their men argue and brawl into the night, and where the local movie house next door blares American Sci-Fi from the ‘90s interpreted into Luganda on the loud speaker for the town
can hear. I won’t lie to you, trying to give a Bible college education to nearly illiterate elementary school drop-outs who only speak Luganda is challenging.But knowing the call of God for the Earwickers, and seeing the abundant fruit of obedience to that very specific summons makes all the difficulties and lack of comforts more than desirable. In the last five weeks since we launched our second Island Leadership School on Lake Victoria, I’ve been floored by the literal transformation that comes to the lives of men and women who mix the simple Word of God with simple faith.
One brother testified after the first two days of teaching that the Master convicted him of destructive anger toward his misbehaving children. “After receiving the teaching this week, I sat down with my family and apologized to them for becoming so angry all the time when things weren’t as I would like. I told them that from this day on, their father is a new man.” He said that after this family meeting, he has had overflowing peace in his heart in regards to his children, and has begun praying for them to also have a change of heart. In a culture that has an acute lack of solid families and godly father figures, this was the hand of God actively moving this father to humble himself and step out in faith.
Another student, a recent convert from Islam, said that as he sat in class the second day, he pondered the thought that God is more powerful than the devil. There seems to be a local witch who has relative control of the local rain patterns on that particular side of Bunjako Island (of course he’s in cahoots with the “prince of the power of the air”), and refuses to allow rain to fall there. Our new brother gave God this challenge: “If you are really more powerful than Satan as our teachers have been saying, then I want to see rain here by tomorrow.” And from about 5:00 am the next morning, we had monsoon rains pelting our metallic roofs up until school time. The man came rejoicing in His God with a testimony on his lips.
Though the individual stories keep us coming back for more, in recent weeks, we’ve unearthed the horrible realities of the state of the rural Church in Uganda: it lies in ruins. Even the pastors and leaders have had no spiritual foundations laid in their lives. No one has preached a message of repentance unto life (one revealing question from a co-wife in last week’s class was, “What is compromise?”). No one has prayed for them to receive the Baptism of the Holy Spirit - it’s virtually not done in these "Pentecostal" churches. Most of the "married" folks are just living together with no cultural or spiritual commitment to each other in Holy Matrimony. Many are running illegal businesses, some are still practicing witchcraft, all are bound in a poverty mentality, and many are deathly ill. There is virtually no real fellowship in the churches and even the pastors are primarily Masters of Ceremony. These shores are a literal wreck without the Gospel in pure form nor any sort of shepherds to tend the flock.But the islands simply scream opportunity and the probability of a healthy, strong, growing Church on Lake Victoria is high, given this felicitous moment, the hungry harvest, and our ready Redeemer. Seeing that nothing is hard for Jesus, that He delights in doing the difficult, and that He works revival through the prayers and toil of broken servants, I’d say that this dark continent is ripe for the glory of God.
This is Unnecessary 28 Sep 2008
I just ran across this immense passage in Tozer's The Knowledge of the Holy (a manual on God's nature that I used to tell my students was worth a limb). In his discourse on the self-sufficiency of God he explains:"So lofty is our opinion of ourselves that we find it quite easy, not to say enjoyable, to believe that we are necessary to God. But the truth is that God is not greater for our being, nor would He be less if we did not exist. That we do exist is altogether of God's free determination, not by our desert nor by divine necessity. Probably the hardest thought of all our natural egotism to entertain is that God does not need our help. We commonly represent Him as a busy, eager, somewhat frustrated Father hurrying about seeking help to carry out His benevolent plan to bring peace and salvation to the world, but....the God who worketh all things surely needs no help and no helpers.I sure like that about God. This truth just destroys my fat ego and confused thinking opposing the fact that I am the one that needs Him. The self-sufficient, self-confident, self-absorbed, independent me monster has all but consumed that humble creature God formed in His image. And as a missionary trying so desperately to fill the earth and subdue it with the glory of the Lord, what a wonderful reminder of His lovingkindness poured out on me: that He would even want me at His side in this labor.
"Too many missionary appeals are based upon this fancied frustration of Almighty God. An effective speaker can easily excite pity in his hearers, not only for the heathen but for the God who has tried so hard and so long to save them and has failed for want of support. I fear that thousands of younger persons enter Christian service from no higher motive than to help deliver God from the embarrassing situation His love has gotten Him into and His limited abilities seem unable to get Him out of. Add to this a certain degree of commendable idealism and a fair amount of compassion for the underprivileged and you have the true drive behind much Christian activity today." - A.W. Tozer
Opportunity Beyond Our Lifetime 27 Sep 2008
These last four weeks, the Island Leadership School has been doing a study on Matthew 6:19-21, and I thought it wise to share learned insights with the world at large, intending to spark some godly thoughts and influence perspective shifts during these times of economic insecurity in our nations today.“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (NKJV).
After a thorough look at this passage we’ve interpreted in light of various related portions of Scripture and settled on the following meaning for this controversial commandment from the Master:
A disciple of Jesus should work to store up spiritual treasures in heaven, ensuring his heart remains with God where it should be, while not heaping physical possessions for himself on earth. God will supply his every real need, and will give extra so that he can give to others, but a disciple should not seek riches or be a person of excess. He is called to live differently than the world and to be rich in God.
One of the many ways the God-breathed Bible indicates we might amass spiritual wealth is through secret, sacrificial giving to others, especially to the poor and needy. The issue is not whether God desires our happiness or if He’s really good, since that is obviously revealed throughout the Good Book. We’re talking about the state of our hearts before God and harnessing the overflow of our provision to either give or withhold life from another human soul. Our decision on financial stewardship is a choice between our own personal comfort and the very life and eternal destiny of another.
It’s fully up to you. You, who have been superabundantly blessed beyond measure and without ability to contain, were not given extra funds to squander on comfort drinks or luxury hamburgers. You, who fall into the category of top 10% of the world’s wealthiest (an elite group of only about 700 million), were not blessed to bless yourself with the latest fashions and keep up with newfangled technology and motorcars, but yea, verily, to bestow life upon the nations of the world. You and I have the extreme privilege of using our worthless, combustible monopoly money to purchase eternal destiny for the sub-fortunate.
Living in this wonderful worldwide web means that we have endless opportunity to give both creatively and purposefully in whatever way the Master would direct. Please prayerfully consider devoting your earthly treasure to some of the following options (all of which are impacting destinies for under $1/day):
- Purchase Bibles for Christians starving for the Word of God: from $1/Bible | Impact Ministries, Plead the Cause, Bible League
- Build an elementary school for AIDS orphans in Uganda: $3.45/month | The Cause
- Send an orphaned teenage girl to College: $10/month | Amani Life Project
- Send an impoverished slum-dwelling child to school: $28/month | Gospel for Asia
- Fund a native missionary’s Bible school education for evangelism and church planting: $30/month | Gospel For Asia, Plead the Cause
- Support an orphaned child with a family, food, clothing, shelter, and hope for a future: $30/month | King’s Kids Village, Otino-Waa Village, Osanidde Village
