Lubanga kene

I’m in the middle of the first funeral I can remember.  I honestly cannot remember going to any funeral.  I know I went to some as a little kid, but I have no vivid memories of any. 

My best friend here and head teacher of Restore Academy, Peter, lost his “mzee” Friday night.  He had throat cancer and went to Kampala for surgery on Wednesday, but died Friday night from complications to the surgery (this is no Seattle Grace).  It is really sad, Peter lost his biological father two years ago, and now he’s lost his uncle, who stepped in to take his father’s place as head of the family.  The funeral process here in Uganda is much different than back home.  Saturday they transported the body back up to Gulu.  We drove with Peter and by the time we got to Gulu people had already gathered at his house to help mourn.  Saturday afternoon/night probably 50 or so friends and family had shown up at the family compound to pay their respects and help mourn.  Many of them traveled from pretty far and are staying on the compound, wherever they can find a place to sleep.  This will go on until at least Monday or Tuesday, with the actual burial on Monday.  But this custom of paying respect and helping the family mourn is really cool.  Virtually all family members drop what they are doing and come mourn until after the burial.  Friends come and join them for as long as they are able, many staying the whole time.  Its literally a 3-4 day event.

Wanting to respect this norm, I went and sat at the house for several hours last night.  As tired as I was, it was an amazing experience.  There were about 3 small bonfires with people sitting around talking into the wee hours of the night.  There were a few fires for the women and girls and a fire for the old Acholi men.  I sat with Peter and five Cornerstone OB’s (alumni) nearby and just enjoyed great conversation.  In no particular order, it went from death to life to Jesus to current events to astronomy to Obama to morality to football.  But as I sat there listening I just absorbed my surroundings and what was taking place.

I realized I was in the midst of community.  Someone that each of us around the fire loved was hurting, and we came together to mourn with him and bring him back up.  I take no personal credit for intentionaly doing this, I just knew it was a cultural norm so I wanted to go and sit at the house.  But I realized how great that norm is.  It reminds me of Luke 6:20-26 and what my buddy James has to say here:  http://jamestravels.com/2008/02/blessings-and-woes-2.php.  The Acholi culture says that when one of you is mourning, all of you mourn and together (after the burial) you celebrate and life goes on.  I’m personally getting a first hand experience of how great that is. 

As screwed up as some things are here in Uganda, the sense of family and community is something we all should be envious of. 

Ever heard of a “professional” basketball game getting rained out?  Neither have I.  But that’s exactly what should have happened today.  I’ve been playing with the Gulu Hawks, a team in the Federation of Uganda Basketball Association, or FUBA.  Every game I’ve played thus far has been outdoors on sketchy courts.  There are mini potholes on the courts, one rim might be six inches or a full foot shorter than the other, or the rim is slanted 30 degrees to the side.  This actually describes our court in Gulu to the T.

So today we had a game.  At the start of the game, everyone could tell a storm was brewing.  Lightning was flashing in the distance, the wind was picking up and the sky was growing dark.  Luckily it didn’t start raining until halftime, when it came down in buckets.  There was an abandoned building not too far away from the courts, so players, refs and fans all ran inside to take cover and wait out the storm.  It was actually fun, just joking around with guys from our team and the other team and getting to know some “fans.”

I should mention we do have a loyal support group of fans… that always show up drunk and harass the other team or referees.  Its pretty sad and embarrassing, but they are hilarious when not trying to intimidate others.  Today was no different, they actually brought a case of like 24 beers for the few of them.  They were in a jovial mood today though and our halftime show involved them debating members of the opposing team about Jesus and drunkenness.  It was hilarious and luckily everyone stayed friendly throughout.

Anyways, after about an hour of waiting in this abandoned house, the lightning and torrential downpour had passed, but it was still raining.  People slowly came outside and stood in the rain, then made their way back to the court.  The court literally had to be drained by digging miniature canals to divert water and once the small lakes were cleared the second half began.  In the rain.  The entire second half was played in increasingly harder rain on a very slippery court.  At one point, standing there soaking wet, I literally pinched myself and remember thinking, “Is this a dream?!  Am I really playing “professional” basketball, in Uganda, in the rain, on a court like this?” 

I have to admit, I’m a pretty lucky guy. 

“Eternal life.  Where is it?  When is it?  For a long time I have thought about eternal life as a life after all my birthdays have run out.  For most of my years I have spoken about the eternal life as the “afterlife,” as “life after death.”  But the older I become, the less interest my “afterlife” holds for me.  Worrying not only about tomorrow, next year, and the next decade, but even about the next life seems a false preoccupation.  Wondering how things will be for me after I die seems, for the most part, a distraction.  When my clear goal is the eternal life, that must be reachable now, where I am, because eternal life is life in and with God, and God is where I am here and now.” - Henri Noewen

I heard this quote recently on a podcast and have been turning it over in my head a bit.  I have to say I agree with what Nouwen is saying here.  If you look at Jesus’ teachings and parables when he tells us what the kingdom of heaven is like, he gives us examples in the earthly realm.  Or when people asked him how to inherit eternal life, he spoke of eternal life as being here and now, on earth.  The parable of the Good Samaritan, part of Jesus’ response to the question, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” is a perfect example.

I know personally I can struggle with living “in the here and now.”  Much of the time my thoughts go into the past and I dwell on what I should have said or done in a certain situation or I dream about the “what ifs” of life.  Then I find myself wondering/worrying about the future and what it looks like.  I worry about money, my health, or where I’m going to be in 5 years.  Yet the end of Matthew 6 tells us not to do this.  We’re not to worry about tomorrow and what it brings, but are called to “seek first his kingdom and his righteousness.”  I think my thoughts and actions should be in response to the question what can I do, today, that will bring the kingdom of heaven to earth, today?  Not what can I do today that will benefit the kingdom of heaven when I die.  Or what I can do tomorrow.  Tomorrow has its own worries, lets focus on the here and now.

But maybe I have a plan for the future, and some decision comes up that deciding one way affects that plan, but the other brings eternal life to earth today.  I think I need to choose the latter.  I don’t think planning in and of itself is bad, but I think we need to be fluid in our plans and know that we are to be living our eternal life out daily.  We can’t let our plans, our friends or our possessions get in the way of living our eternal life right now.  That was the case with the rich young ruler.  He had too much stuff that stood in his way.  Although he obeyed the commandments, he had too many things that kept him from following Jesus.  For some people their hindrance may be their “need” to save for retirement.  What about sliding into home at 65, 75 or 85, penniless but truly living and enjoying the ride?  Completely trusting God each step of the way.  I know some people think not planning financially for the future is immature and stupid (I myself used to think this way, but maybe I’m still immature and stupid) but what did the early church do?  They shared everything, some sold land or homes and brought the money to the apostles and it was distributed to anyone as needed.  If this is how the original church operated, how those who walked with and learned from Jesus decided to start, shouldn’t we be doing likewise?  Just recently I’ve seen friends moving in that direction (www.loveisone.org) trying to raise money for their friend in need.  But its happening with young, broke 20-somethings.  What if this started happening with the millionaire and billionaire Christians out there?

Going back to the quote, our desires and dreams shouldn’t be on life after death.  I know it’s going to be great and I will love that day when it comes, but I don’t think that the “afterlife” is the beginning of eternal life.  I think eternal life begins when we are “born again” and we begin to let the Holy Spirit guide our life.  I believe life after death is going to be amazing, but its not what we should be sitting around waiting for.  We shouldn’t just be coping with this earth, dreaming of a better life in heaven and waiting for that magnificent change after we die.  A friend of mine said she thought the biggest, most radical change in our life should be between our life before we started to follow Jesus and our life after.  Life after is the beginning of our eternal life and we have to humble ourselves, admit that we know nothing and begin to learn anew.  When we do this and we live with God in the here and now, we bring heaven to earth.  Jesus said the gates of hell will not overcome the church.  That means the church is storming the gates of hell, not the other way around.  We’re not sitting around building up a protective wall for ourselves and waiting to go to heaven.  We’re on the offensive, storming hell’s gates and bringing the kingdom of heaven to earth!

I’ve been reading/listening/thinking about prayer in the last few days.  I have to admit, my prayer life has been a wreck.  It’s usually very routine.  Something like thanking God for the day, saying prayers for family and friends who I’ve told I’d pray for (mentally marking them off like a checklist), maybe asking forgiveness for things, and then asking God for things, to intercede on my behalf or to heal so and so.  I’m sad to say but its felt so… dead.

Realizing the poor state of my conversations with God, I’ve been thinking about the why/what/when/how questions of prayer.  I’ve just begun Philip Yancey’s book Prayer and in the first chapter he begins talking about these questions.  He says, “We pray because we want to thank someone or something for the beauties and glories of life, and also because we feel small and helpless and sometimes afraid.  We pray for forgiveness, for strength, for contact with the One who is, for assurance that we are not alone.”  Now this isn’t some grand statement, but it holds a lot of truth.  We pray when we are thankful, afraid, remorseful, weak and feeling alone.  Yancey then quoted surveys showing that prayer was ranked extremely high on theoretical importance to people, yet ranks incredibly low on surveys of actual satisfaction.  Why is that?  Are we praying for the wrong things or become too structured and intellectual in our prayers?

Tonight I fellowshipped with the youth corps kids with all this on my mind.  I realized about halfway through how “un-into-it” I was as I just stood with the kids clapping my hands (I find my mind easily wanders when every other song is in a different language).  I was there physically praising God, but mentally I was in a million different places.  When the singing turned to slower, more intimate songs I closed my eyes and just listened to their beautiful voices, silently speaking to God.  Midway through the power went out, leaving us in a pitch black room.  But their voices rose and they sang even louder.  Then they started to pray.  Deep, passionate cries out to their Father.  It should be noted they pray out loud, all at once and speak incredibly fast.  I joined in and just let my heart talk to God, my mouth and mind not even knowing what I was saying.  It was… incredibly refreshing.  I felt so close and known by God in those few minutes. 

Then I thought about the kids.  I doubt any of them would say they are dissatisfied with the “quality” of their conversations with God.  Maybe Jesus said the kingdom belongs to ones such as these for a reason.  They don’t have daily devotionals or read the Bible everyday.  But they do sing and talk to God in ways I’m jealous of.  If praying is my means of conversation with God, and I desire to love Him with all my heart, I should be pouring out my heart to Him every day with reckless abandon.  Not marking things off a mental sheet, but wrestling with Him.  Releasing all my fears and struggles, but also humbling myself knowing that His thoughts are not my thoughts.  Giving Him the praise for any and every blessing or woe I have in my life.

Anyways, this is what has been on my mind the last few days.  I thank and praise God for all the amazing things I’ve learned through these kids.  Here’s to many more.

I’m spoiled.  I’ve been blessed with amazing friends.  The last few months I have had the incredible opportunity to spend time with old and new friends from the states, both those living here and those here only a week or two.  I feel a little guilty because of how much fun we’ve had, but it has been a great time of growth within our little unique community.  I’m continuing to see how church isn’t confined to brick walls inside of a building.  In fact, its hardly been that at all for me over the last year.  My church has been the daily interactions with my fellow brothers and sisters, lifting each other up, encouraging one another and just having fun together. 

Something that continues to astound me though is the quality of people I’ve befriended.  No offense to my friends back home, I love you all, but I’ve met the brightest, most creative guys and girls who have this incredible drive to make the world a better place.  A place where no young girl is forced to the depths and darkness of prostitution.  A place where no child is enslaved behind the production of our food/clothing/tv/toothbrush/________(enter your consumer product here).  Corporate and consumer responsibility have come up quite a bit, which has really hit home with me and my negligence to these issues.  But whats best is that people aren’t standing idly by and talking about the next great idea or just complaining about whats wrong in the world… action is being taken.  In the last 6 months I’ve seen friends start businesses and organizations, and I’ve dreamed with others about starting businesses, with a focus on more than the bottom line.  Businesses that operate first and foremost out of love.  Non-profits where the directors take personal losses to keep others employed.  Individuals who live day in and day out a life of love and reconciliation.  This is what the Golden Rule is about. 

Through several conversations, brainstorming sessions and Bible studies I’ve seen that people at the ripe young age of 24 can and will make a difference on the global village that we live in.  With Jesus’ principles as the guiding light, change will be made, there is no doubt about it.

I’ll write more soon with details on some of these businesses and how you can get involved…

27 million people are under slavery today in our world… one human being every thirty seconds is trafficked or sold.  Human trafficking is the fastest growing crime in the world and its such a lucrative business that in the last year more profit was made from the selling of human beings than Microsoft made selling its software.  But haven’t we abolished the slave trade? 

I’ve read stuff like this before and heard about slavery around the world but never thought much of it, thinking there wasn’t much I could do living in my California bubble.  But there are things we can do, no matter where we live.  The western world, the USA in particular, shape the world based on our consumerism.  We as Americans have incredible influence on the world with our purchasing power.  All this to say, every time you purchase something you could be supporting an organization that enslaves children… or you could be supporting an organization that helps release enslaved children.  Free Trade companies aren’t bulletproof, but they are a start.  I myself am convicted of the indifference I’ve shown towards what I buy and who I support.  I never realized how powerful we are and how we can shape this world by our purchases. 

But where do we start?  I ask us all to look into our purchases and look into the companies we regularly support.  When William Wilberforce was battling slavery back in the day, people asked him what they could do.  He told them that the sugar they put in their tea was made on the slave plantations, so quit eating sugar (something incredibly hard for tea drinkers!).  His strategy helped, people quit buying sugar and the companies had to respond.  The consumer is always king. 

The sugar of the 21^st century is chocolate.  It is estimated that around 15,000 children are enslaved in the Ivory Coast on cocoa farms.  The Ivory Coast, a small country in West Africa, produces over 40% of the world’s cocoa, a pretty staggering amount.  There are several organizations, our own Congress being one, which have been trying to raise awareness of this and force the chocolate companies to change their ways.  But it is in the hands of you and me as consumers to help.  I urge you to stop buying slave produced chocolate and only buy chocolate with a slave-free logo on it.  If we as consumers spend our money differently, we’ll send a message to the large companies that we won’t stand idly by while they rake in the money at the expense of a human life. 

“We must all fear evil men. But, there is another evil which we must fear most, and that is the indifference of good men.”

Read this article:

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1625697,00.html

Or watch this video for more.  And look for this chocolate in US stores soon!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3X3saJUs8f4

I just read one of my buddies blogs (misterlib.com) and he had a link to a really interesting letter: http://www.burnsidewriterscollective.com/social/2008/07/letter_from_an_inner_city_kid.php If you get a chance, read it.

It’s a hypothetical letter from an inner city kid to the caring adult who visits and tries to befriend and mentor him.  The letter really hit home because the themes and attitude of the letter could easily cross over to the young kids here in Uganda.

While reading it, I saw myself many times in the description of the adult… and not in a good way.  I saw that sometimes I just don’t get these kids and get frustrated and think of them as rude or ungrateful or selfish.  But how can I do that?  I don’t know what they’ve been through.  I’ll never know what it was like to leave home every night, fearing for my life, and go sleep on the ground somewhere with hundreds, even thousands of other kids.  I don’t have that past.  As a kid I was taught to say please and thank you, to respect my elders and do what I was told.  How can I expect them to act the same when they were never taught those things?  Some of them come from a background where they didn’t know where their next meal was coming from, so each one might be their last.  Some from a history of violence or abusiveness from their parents.  In all honesty, I’m amazed at how well they do behave and respect others, all things considered.

Anyways, I felt really convicted reading this letter and encourage you to read it as well.  Its long but worth it…

I just got back from a week in Rwanda/Burundi visiting friends and meeting new ones.  I went with my buddy Kyle who is out visiting and four other friends from here.  We started the trip off with a bang… karaoke with like 15 friends followed by a 3 am bus ride.  Below or some notes I took along the way:

Sept 6th:  Drove from Kigali, Rwanda to Bujumbura, Burundi today.  Craziest drive of my life.  We barely got seats on the bus, the worst ones in the very back.  The road was great compared to Uganda in terms of potholes… but it was windy and very hilly.  We were screaming around blind, hairpin turns, the bus rocking left to right at each turn and the wheels screeching.  I honestly thought we were going to tip over and fall the hundreds of feet down the side of the mountain to our death.  It was by far the scariest bus ride I’ve ever taken.  And thats saying alot, because most people say the Gulu-Kampala is the worst.  Oh, and we blew a tire on the way up the mountain… then blew the spare on the way down.  Blowing the spare we didn’t even flinch.  Just kept on driving, because there was no other spare.  It was keep driving or sit and wait, and our driver wanted to be finished.  So we kept right on going, kareeming down the mountain like we had nothing to lose.  Now we’re in Buj.  This place is weird, like a ghost town.  Tonight there were hardly anyone on the streets, even in the late afternoon when we got here.  It almost has the feel of an old western movie, like when everyone closes up shop and leaves town when the bad guys show up.  A little eery.

Sept 8th: Left Buj.  Wasn’t as bad as we first thought.  Hung out and relaxed at a beach on Lake Tanganyika.  Saw some amazing tribal dancers/drummers at the beach.  Burundi is definitely not a tourist destination.  Eric thought we were possibly the only foreign people in the country not there for work.  The country has really only been safe for about 2 months.  They’ve had a civil war for the last 15 years or so, stemming from the Rwanda genocide.  So what happened in Rwanda happened on a much smaller scale here… but went on for over a decade, killing 2-3 times more people.  Thats why it feels like a ghost town/country… it practically is.  On the bus back up to Kigali to hang out.  Eric stayed behind to get work done on a potential youth corp home here.  This bus driver goes slow, we’re loving him.  Not too scared of death today. 

September 10th: Left Kigali, back on a bus for Kampala.  Was able to relax and spend time in Kigali with friends, just talking and hanging out.  Then back on the bus to Kampala @ 6am.  Pretty horrible drive.  Even worse for Kyle, who’s having stomach trouble.  We just calculated that after Friday, when we drive back up to Gulu, we’ll have gone on 6 bus rides in 10 days, a total of 48 hours on a bus… not fun.  The bus rides zap any and all life out of you.  Side note, neither Kyle or I fit in the seats, so we both sit sideways at like a 45 degree angle… for 10 hours.  It does wonders for your back, try it sometime.

Overall, the trip definitely wasn’t a relaxing vacation… but it was fun seeing friends and hanging out in two incredibly beautiful countries. 

Monday I went with my buddy Kyle, who got here a week ago, to take one of our youth corps girl’s home.  School isn’t in session right now and the kids go home for as long as they can.  One of the boys wanted to accompany us, so while we waited for him I sat and talked with this particular girl.  Usually I’m with a group of the kids and never ask them personal questions, but seeing as we were about to go to her home I asked her about her family and her past.  Her mom died of AIDS two years ago and her dad lives in the village working as a farmer.  He is really poor so for at least the past 10 years (she’s 14) she has lived with one of her aunts or uncles near town, so she could go to school.  She had a fairly big scar on her arm and after asking about it she got a little quiet.  She said it came from a stick.  After further probing she told us the stick happened to be in the hands of her uncle while he beat her.  Then she showed us a scar on her other arm and another just below her collarbone, all from her uncle.  I didn’t really know how to respond.  I love this girl to death and I just couldn’t comprehend why or how someone could beat a little kid to this end.  I asked a little more about this uncle and the others she had lived with.  I had to make sure we weren’t going to this particular uncle’s house because honestly I did not want to meet him and definitely didn’t want to leave her back in his care.  Luckily she now lives with her grandma when not at the y.c. home.

After a while we found the boy who wanted to go and the four of us hopped on bodas and took off for her home.  We had a great time visiting with her aunt who was there but soon after arriving we went walking to find another one of the y.c. kids who lived nearby.  After a good hour of walking (we asked how far it was and initially we were told no more than 1 km.  It was a good 3 miles or so, but it was beautiful and through small villages by way of footpaths.), we found another one of the girls’ sister.  She told us where to find this other girl… in a rock quarry.  I cannot accurately describe the scene at the quarry… but it felt a little like the diamond mining in the movie Blood Diamond, sans the guards with guns.  There were men, women and children everywhere “beating the rock” as the call it.  The men had huge sledgehammers and chisels, breaking big chunks off and hauling them to their wives and children to beat into smaller rocks.  Our girl saw us from afar and came running.  She joyfully showed us around and introduced us to her step-mom and others.  She took us to her home nearby and bought us water and sodas while we talked with her father.  It was a bit disheartening though.  Her father, obviously drunk (at 3 pm), talked us into the ground.  He capped off our time there by somewhat making fun of Kyle.  There were about 10 of us sitting in the hut, 4 of them being really little kids.  Kyle was playing with them most of the time while the dad, the boy and I “talked”, more like he talked in circles and we nodded.  But when I told him we needed to go he said no and, turning to Kyle basically said, “Why haven’t you talked.  You come into my home, I need to get to know you.”  Then proceeded to tell us why Kyle needed to get him a passport so he could come to the US and on and on.  I sat there laughing as Kyle looked around for help not knowing what to say.  It was pretty funny…

But as I look back on this day I’m left with a few lingering thoughts.  One is the hospitality that we were shown.  At both girls homes they went and bought sodas for us.  That doesn’t sound like much, but these families are poor.  It’s a big deal to buy sodas for three people, but it wasn’t an option.  We were guests and they had to give us something, even with us trying our best to refuse the drinks.  It was probably the equivalent of an average US citizen giving an unexpected visitor a $30-$40 gift upon arrival in their home.

The second thing I’m left with is how horrible these kids’ backgrounds really are.  Both of these girls come from alcoholic, abusive families and both of their moms died of AIDS.  Both had to, for up to five years, walk into town each night and sleep with thousands of other kids in shelters and then walk back home each morning, thankful that they weren’t abducted the night before.  My mind cannot grasp this.  I cannot imagine being 13 or 14 again and already have experienced all that they have.  To not have a loving mother or father, to work in a rock quarry, or to flee home each night in search of a safe place to sleep.  I can’t even imagine what I would be like now, at 23, if this had been a part of my recent past.  It is amazing how strong they are and how joyful and happy they can be.  I am constantly in awe of them and daily learn more from them than I ever imagined.

I just finished reading The Shack (www.theshackbook.com).  I may have read it too fast to fully digest it all, I couldn’t put it down.  But I loved it.  I’m not going to give away anything about the book, but I wholly recommend this book to everyone, from every race, tribe and religion.  If you have read it, I’d love to dialogue with you over email or something.  And if you haven’t read it, read it!!  I’m hearing this book is one of the most popular in the states right now… with this book’s message it has the power for a whole new revolution of love and a redefining of what we consider a relationship with Christ and with each other.

Read it!