Shoeless

I have a story to tell, and I want to tell it, lest I forget. It happened during my trip to Uganda this year. I could go back, re-imagine it, use overly descriptive language and get you embroiled in the sights, the sounds, and the smells. Or, I could copy and paste the email I sent to my parents detailing it, and allow you to read between the lines, to discover the story for yourself, to put yourself in my shoes and process along with me. Forgive me for fixing some grammatical errors and word choices, but here it is, almost untouched, a time capsule, as it were...

July 1st, 2012: "So I just got back from my trip to Jinja, and I wanted to give you a blow by blow of what happened--it's a small-ish town located on the source of the Nile River. What can I say besides I had an amazing time. It was sort of difficult to get there--traffic is pretty rough at times, and towards the end the roads turned to gravel, and then to dirt, and then to just plain soil and rock.

Dusty clay roads. Near Jinja Town, Uganda

So it is a few hours' journey at the least. When we first arrived in Jinja, we stopped to eat at an Indian restaurant... while we were eating, I noticed some street boys peaking in through the window at us. There were three of them, so I really slickly snuck away from our table and bought them some cokes and naan bread. I spent some time talking to them, and then snuck on back in. I'm pretty sure I told them not to say anything to any of their friends, but sure enough, when we left out of the restaurant there were about 8-10 street boys waiting for us out there. So while we were waiting for our driver, we sat on our little mini-bus talking to them, joking around, and just having a plain good time. The one boy who was a little older was really funny--we have an Indian girl in our program, and he asked her to sing him an Indian song. When she started he was batting his eyes and looked like a love-struck teen.

Jinja town. Jinja, Uganda

Anyway, the driver was taking really long, so my one friend whispered to me "Is there a store around here, I wouldn't mind getting them something to eat." So I was like, "Let's do it!!" In a rush of excitement, me, her, and another girl hopped off the bus and told the boys to gather around in a huddle. "Where's the nearest market?" we asked them. The "leader" said there was one close by, so I told him okay, let's hurry before the driver gets back and it gets dark. So we took off speed walking, joking around as we went. As we went along, I asked the "leader" if he was a fast runner, and challenged him to a race. He smiled really broadly and said, "Okay!" So we took off running down the narrow street, ducking and dodging people and stalls packed with merchandise. It was like a chase scene in a movie! Me and him, neck and neck, running down the street with two white girls and a crowd of ruddy street boys chasing after us--oh, and he had no shoes on either. Along the way the locals smiled warmly at us, obviously amused by this street boy and a white guy running full speed down the street. A couple of lady shop owners cursed at us as we zoomed through their stretch of sidewalk, letting out a little screech and hollering "MZUNGU!!!" (mez-oon-goo, a white person) after me. There was a white person or two along the way, and as I was running, I think I heard an old woman say something like "that boy stole something!" but it might've been in my head. All I know is that we were having the time of our lives... all of us.

The shops we not-so-delicately cut through. Jinja, Uganda

When we finally got to this little makeshift supermarket, we were all giggling and out of breath. The boys followed us as we walked in, but then all of a sudden got really serious. They followed me down the isle, watching me intently. After a brief, breathless pause, we were just like:

"Go ahead! Get whatever you want!"

All of their worn, dusty faces were blank, staring at us as if we were pulling their leg.

"Seriously... hurry up and pick something!"

One by one, the boys started pointing to stuff... cookies, bread, soda, and other things. Their apprehension quickly turned into excitement as each started loading up on goodies.

"I can have these??"
"YES!"
..."And these ones??"
"YES!"
"These too?"
"...YES!"

We made our way to the crappy wood counter, and stacked a mountain of groceries on top. By the time the man had rung everything up, it came to 93,000 schillings, about $40.00. As they were ringing and packing everything up, the kids were thanking us and hugging us. A few latched on tight to me for a 2-3 second hug--we were all really overwhelmed. As we left the shop, I looked at them all and said "Listen up boys! Just make sure you share with each other, yeah?" And they all smiled and nodded in agreement. We jogged back to the bus, and got on it, out of breath, but full of adrenaline from an amazing experience..."

- - -

I have to just acknowledge one thing. As a worker and student of development, I know there are a lot of ways in which one could pick this story apart. I can just see it now, the more cynical among us (and I know, because I'm quite cynical myself at times) scoffing at the details of our interaction with these kids. Yes, we could easily be written off as another group of white Westerners coming in to disrupt the social fabric of this area, show wonton disregard for the local culture, and give hand-outs to people as if we're the answer to all of their problems. These could be some legitimate concerns.

But you know what, it felt like the right thing to do at the time, and it still feels like the right thing now. We weren't some detached Westerners engaging in some pity party for a handful of poor little African children. No way! These weren't your average poster children, covered in flies and donning sad, hopeless expressions. They were bright, dynamic, spirited young boys! There's an organization by the name of Mama Hope that has recently started a campaign; I absolutely love their message. "Stop the pity, unlock the potential" goes their tagline. That's a movement I could get behind.

Because what were we really doing as we darted down those jagged city streets? As we engaged in our random shopping spree? As we joked and laughed and high fived and hugged?

We were sharing joy.

I hate to make a blanket statement, but there's no joy in pity. Joy is something you have an equal part in, something that knows no hegemonic structure, as does pity. Romans 14:7 says that the Kingdom of God is, "living a life of goodness and peace and JOY in the Holy Spirit." Tony Campolo has so rightly pointed out in many a sermon that Jesus says the Kingdom of God is likened unto a wedding feast (Matthew 22)--it's not the drab, depressed soup kitchen, nor is it this "half country club" sort of church that some of us attend... it's a place of pure, unadulterated joy!

That time spent with those kids in Jinja was one of the most joyful moments of my life. Not simply because God allowed us to fill an immediate need for them, which was really was a blessing for us, but because we had a glimpse of what the Kingdom of Heaven looks like here on earth. We Christians have a funny sort of view of Heaven. We have this vision that when we get there we'll all just kick off our shoes, leave the cares of this world behind, and run full speed into God's love, peace, and joy.

Well... what's stopping you from doing that here on earth, ya big stiff? (John 15:11)

Unsearchable

I am so desperately wretched. I often look at myself in the mirror, ever so intently, as if I'm staring down an enemy. Curious to me is the fact that, horrid as I am, there is something undeniably good within me. I look into my own tired eyes, squinting, trying to look past their brown dullness and see the light that shines within. I know it's in there somewhere...

---

Being a Christian is a state of existence that is unlike any other. When you accept Christ into your heart, the Holy Spirit of the Living God takes residence within you. Can you even conceptualize that? The God of this universe, the Creator of all things, lives within you. When you become a Christian, you have an eternal power residing deep within you, magnifying the spiritual you that He created!

The only problem is that you're still the physical you. You're trapped in this disastrous container, wired with arteries and veins and nerve endings--little sensors that fire an innumerable amount of times throughout the day, sending electric signals to your brain. This is that "flesh" we often talk about in Church. Some may scoff at the notion that your flesh makes decisions for you, choices that are contrary to the Spirit living within you. Considering such an intricate system of feelers, electric signals, and biological wires, how can you deny this fact? This bag of bones that carries the real us around is an instinctual, primordial sort of beast. It has an insatiable appetite...it cares only for its continuation, for its self-interest, for its survival and promotion. Sometimes I feel as though my flesh would want to see to it that the light within me is smothered, or even snuffed out. I know that might sound crazy, but it's almost like my flesh knows that it can't get what it wants as long as this light is shining so brightly within. And there's a catalyst for my flesh's desires--the one we call the enemy.

I thank God for the antecedent to this, His Spirit. I picture Him working His way through us in these very times, working almost as an antibody (wow, I just got that pun), fighting our flesh's evil desires, dulling and deflecting the sharp arrows aimed at us by our adversary, strengthening us and restoring us.

And so the battle rages on...

I get in these moods sometimes. I get down on myself for my sinfulness, and I want to run away. I sit around, racking my brain. Where would I run to? That's the only problem, no matter where I go, my flesh follows me. I try to run toward God, but every step I take, my flesh is right there with me, challenging me, testing me, trying to destroy the real me.

But hallelujah, His Spirit is also walking in lockstep with me as well. It's exactly at that moment that God steps in--and there's nowhere that He can't find me. A friend texted me today out of nowhere. She said she had been praying for me this morning out of Jeremiah 33:2-3. And it reads:

2 “This is what the Lord says, he who made the earth, the Lord who formed it and established it—the Lord is his name: 3 ‘Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’"

Some things in life are inexplicable, incomprehensible, and unsearchable. That's something I have to accept. Those called to ministry sometimes have to go through hell in order to build God's Kingdom here on earth. But hallelujah through and through, God's Spirit never departs from us. Though it might seem like it at times, we are never alone. He'll never leave us alone with our flesh. His Son died for us,  His very Spirit dwells within us, and Father Himself is never more than just a call away...

Photo by Rhys Logan