Africa Does Not Need Me

As I sit here in this old house on the banks of Lake Victoria, I am impressed with all we have found in Africa. I have seen a family of five running errands on a 125cc motorbike, I have held a small child fighting for his life against the HIV he inherited, I have danced my praises to God when I did not understand the language, and I have found a new dependency upon my Savior.

           Three weeks ago I arrived in Africa, not knowing the details of the task I had committed us to. My pride and education tempts me to dream of CPMs, EVexplosions, and all manner of “missionary” success scales. Truth is, Africa needs me not. Farm boys? They have millions. White people? Thousands. What do I bring? The Gospel? I see God working everywhere. God did not bring me here to DO, but to BE, to be with HIM wherever he maybe working. 

You might say, but why Africa? Can you not be with him at home? At one time, I could. But now I can’t. Not when I was told go. Yes, there was a time when my obedience looked a lot like Jerusalem, but that task has changed to the Ends of the Earth. So, shall I change? Some change their location, and not their heart. We call these tourists. Some change their heart and not their location. HE calls these disobedient.    

We follow the Man

God has been so good to us by allowing us to live here in Africa. As many of you know, it was three years ago that we felt sure God was leading us in this direction. We knew that we were making our way to Africa step by step, there were so many details to work out, but we took it a day at a time. 

Two things came as a great surprise. First, we did not know we would be here so quickly. With the changes in the IMB and my need for graduate hours, I honestly thought it would take six months to a year longer than it did. The second great surprise was Uganda. Never, did we think that we would even visit Uganda, let a lone live here for a year and a half. I believe that Uganda will turn out to be the best possible situation for the long-term plan.

We have made many good friends here already. I have enjoyed my time with the Ugandan men who work for the Baptist Mission here in Kampala. Last week, a man named Chicongo took us out for driving lessons. He was a patient and joyful man. He helped us make the adjustment to the British side of the road and the African side of traffic, a challenge to say the least. The men here have also helped me learn some Luganda language phrases.  Luganda (or Ganda) is a language spoken by ten-million people; most Luganda speakers live in the Buganda region of Uganda. The language is widely spoken in and around the Capital, Kampala. 

I am excited to learn this African way of life and language. God has brought us here for a purpose, even if we only see the path ahead as dimly lit, still we follow the Man. 

Day-one in the Uganda, the new life begins.

We arrived in Uganda at 11pm on January 4^th. The 30+ hours of travel were taxing, but the turbulence over the Alps took the cake. I was feeling the pain, while Memphis was yelling WEEEEEEE for all the plan to enjoy. Honestly, I like to fly. I remember walking out of the Jungle; the flight in was an hour and a half, the walk out, 14 days. So, yes, I like to fly.

After contacting the paternities, we got into bed and woke up at the Baptist mission headquarters.  The mission property in Kampala is more than sufficient. We are comfortable and full up on Ugandan food and Kenyan Tea. Today, we went out on the town. We got phones, bought food, and did a little language learning. The Ugandans working for the mission are great. They have helped us with everything from turning on the power to buying soap. The city of Kampala has everything anyone might need. We will be here in the mission house for the next week or two and than then it is off to the bush, but first, we still have a stack of paperwork to complete, a few things to buy, and some fuel injectors on the truck are in need of repair, oh yes, the meetings, we still have to meet with the leadership and then it is off to the bush! 

The Importance of Language

I had only been in this town a few times. Like all Peruvian frontier towns, Breu was a mix of native and foreign. It was the last Peruvian town on this upper Amazon tributary and the town had a feel of the Old West. Natives traded with settlers, and timber was the topic of interest. If not for the military outpost, I doubt the town would even exist, but so it was, I found myself in a time and place far from my point of origin.

Breu had the only store in the district, anything from ammunition to batteries could be bought­–at exuberant prices. The reason we came to Breu now escapes my mind, but one event is lodged in my memory.

Every day of the week, there were six languages spoken in Breu. And of all these the most looked down upon was the language of the Yaminahua tribe. It was not easy learning their language, but for the task I had been given it was imperative. One night, my partner and I found ourselves in a conversation with a Mestizo (a Peruvian of mixed blood) and a Yaminahua (native) man. The conversation quickly became an argument. I knew both men, but only barely, however, I felt it necessary to try and calm the situation. In the midst of the discussion, the Yaminahua man said to the Mestizo; “No, you don’t understand me. This man (pointing at me) understands me, he speaks our language.”

There was little more said after this. We parted and went our ways; however, I noticed an odd look on my partners face when he turned and said to me, “Do you realize what that Yaminahua man just said? He said that you understood him because you spoke his language, but he was not speaking his language!  The whole conversation was in Spanish.” 

Jonah poem:

Oh what a calling so great

to preach the gospel to those in lost state.

But after I listen then do I flee.

For my rebellion I will not submit to thee.

But you are the tempest the wind and the wave

and from your pursuit I cannot be saved.

But then at last my nature is strong

and I will drown myself before I admit to my wrong.

Yet you in your sovereignty my death refuse.

And by your grace my life you use.

And after three days my will it was broken.

To whom you command your word will be spoken.

But then to my horror your spirit it moved.

And through mercy not wrath you choose to reprove

And the Lord said to me "you are the same,

consider your rebellion and look at your shame.

For you, most wicked of all

I gave you life and you refused my call."

-R Lane

The Older Saint

We really did not know what we were getting into. We were green as could be. We had never been on a mission trip without "adult" supervision. Before we left, my father had given me an email of a missionary that he knew. Corey sent this missionary an email to let him know of our plans to study in Guatemala. When we arrived at the airport there he was. The older missionary was there waiting for us. I was amazed at his hospitality and generosity. He drove us to a city where we could catch a bus for our school. He bought us supper and spoke encouraging words to our ears. He would not leave until we were settled in a hotel and had a plan for our transportation the next day. The missionary lived hours away from the airport. I was amazed at his sacrifice of time and money to help us in our time of need. I still remember his words; "we got to get you boys to the mission field." There was an urgency in his voice that I did not understand. He comprehended the importance of my obedience to Christ more than I did. He did not know me, we had never talked, but still he treated me like I was his son. My dear brother in Christ has now received his eternal reward. And now that I have a few years under my belt and a different perspective on life, I am beginning to understand the responsibility he felt to God to help us “get to the mission field.” This is how we replace ourselves. This is how we pass the torch.

Worship.

        God requires worship. His command to worship is a command to enjoy the very person of God. The Psalmist says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him” (Psalms 34:8) In Colossians 1:15-20, Paul records an early Christian hymn. These verses were likely recited or sung by the early church, as a declaration of Christ’s divinity. During the fourth century, Augustine wrote, “But let my soul praise Thee, that it may love Thee, and let it confess Thy mercies to Thee, that it may praise Thee. Thy whole creation praises Thee without ceasing…” The nature of God inspires believers to worship. In 1971, Schaeffer stated, “Our generation is overwhelmingly naturalistic. There is an almost complete commitment to the concept of the uniformity of natural causes in a closed system.” American culture has become increasingly more resistant to the idea of the supernatural. The worship of God is a supernatural process, whereby the natural meets supernatural. The praises of believers transcend time and space to reach a heavenly audience. The very idea of biblical worship is contrary to American culture. Rick Warren said that the heart of worship is surrender, which is an unpopular word, disliked almost as much as submission…. In today’s competitive culture, Americans are taught to never give up and never give in–so they do not hear much about surrendering.

 Paul’s words are cutting to a culture that idealizes the natural when the Bible teaches that the natural man is corrupt and eternally damned. Only in submission to Christ is salvation found. For this reason, the church must understand the importance of living and teaching the spiritual discipline of worship.