Someday I will get around to writing about the crusade at
Gamasara or the district goals that came out of our district meeting in early
September, but for now I can only reflect on the one day this week that really
reminded me what our purpose is for being here and how it will one day be
fulfilled.
My “work” day ended standing in a room, dirt floor, mud
walls, grass roof, surrounded by a grandmother, grandfather, mother, thirteen
children, and a lay pastor to the church in Masalula. We were praying for two
of the children that had been really sick. This was my fourth dirt floor, mud
walls, grass roof house of the day. This was my second time praying for sick
family members, once we prayed for people with broken bones being cared for by
another local pastor, and at the only house where we didn’t pray for disease I
was asked to interpret an HIV test where the result had been written in
English. Thank God it was negative, but why were they able to treat the test
itself and the result so casually. The young man just shrugged, said thank you,
and walked away. I wonder how many more tests before he gets the picture or
loses the HIV lottery?
We stood in this last home before I headed to my own and
prayed for the family and sang praise songs together. I have no idea whose
children all of these were and I didn’t ask. I have heard that story too many
times. Some were surely the mothers, some were probably other grandchildren of
children who had passed away, or great nieces and nephews. When push comes to
shove you can always make room for one more. These were the grandchildren of
the grandfather who told me that any of his neighbors, and I suspect him, would
give me a child to take and care for as my own if I wanted to. He said, “You
could take one for a week, a month, or a few years. We would be happy knowing
they were safe and healthy.” This was the first day I had ever met him. I don’t
think his words were a reflection of my character as much as they were his and
his community’s desperation. This sunk in really hard. My one hope in leaving
this house walked out right beside me, the lay pastor, a member of this
community and the leader of the only church in the area.
I had been in his house earlier when the thing he was most
excited about was our shared interest in reducing the poverty of the area and
considering this as much the true work of God as evangelism or anything else.
He explained his plans for a flour mill where he can grind corn for free for
farmers who have had a bad year. We are going to try and get some support for
him since he could never do this on his own. Heck, we were talking later of his
plans for a church garden where the food could go to widows in the community who
needed it. He despaired, however, of ever getting the funds together to get it
plowed. Renting cows is all of $4 a day, but the almost $20 it would take to
plow it was out of the reach of the church. This makes the flour mill, which
will provide some support for the church’s ministries, that much more
important.
As I left this last house for the day, the grandfather asked
me to pray for the strength of this pastor, because this church was, in the
grandfather’s opinion, the hope for the community. I cannot tell you how happy
this made me. He didn’t say you are our hope, but this pastor and the church
were his hope for the community. This pastor who saw opportunity in a garden
that could provide food for widows and who wanted to build a church that could
provide homes for orphans. It is our blessing to work with people like Benard
Angira who have a vision for their communities and just need some help and
guidance to make this vision a God-given reality.
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