reflection

Here is some of what I talked about while giving my report to the church:

I went to Uganda having said good-bye to materialism, luxury, and privilege in Canada; instead on the search for something. I wanted to find out what God’s love feels like in a foreign place. A place where entire villages are ravaged by disease, a place where education is for the elite rich class, a place where hygienic practices would fail any Canadian Health and Safety guideline, a place where rags are acceptable clothing, a place where entire homes are smaller than my bedroom, a place where food satisfies a fraction of the stomach, a place where demons are encountered face-to-face. But as I reflected on my colourful experiences, there was a pattern I kept noticing. Before I even realized and was able to express my emotions, before I understood the effects of a new environment on my body, before I had the wisdom to challenge some cultural beliefs and myths, God was with me in Uganda. This leads me to what I am most thankful for: God loves me. This isn’t a new revelation, or anything dramatic or complex. It’s a simple statement, one I’ve been taught growing up, and one I always knew, but never really intimately felt. The love I speak about is exemplified by His immense knowledge of and deepest attraction to me: His daughter. Because He knows me, He knows my needs and desires before I can acknowledge them myself. Thus, although all things were foreign in Uganda, my needs were always met, often before I could identify them as needs: a warm welcome in a stranger’s home, a cup of water after learning how to dance a vigorous new cultural dance, a mosquito net to sleep under when I would spend the night at a friend’s mud home, honest friends with whom I could laugh, share stories, and debate issues, an invitation to church, improvement in students’ performances.

God loves me. I say these three words again and think about the billions of people He loves, more specifically the millions in Uganda. God loves the orphans, the widows, the cripples, those suffering from HIV/AIDS or malaria or tuberculosis or some other deadly disease. He also equally loves the rebel leaders and fighters that have tortured, raped, mutilated, beheaded, and burned mothers, fathers, boys, girls, elders, farmers, my friends. God loves the adulterers, the young mothers who practice abortion, the idle youth who rape a girl fetching water. God hates the sins committed by these people, the murders, the thievery, the idolatry, the jealousy, the blasphemy. Despite the evil, God loves the person: the pure and curious thoughts, the musical and athletic skills, the intellect. God loves His child, each one. And so I think, do I have this same love, as God asks of us? We know the commandment in John 13:34 which states “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another”. Do I actually love my neighbour: the innocent children, the abusive parents, the committed students, the Lord’s Resistance Army (rebel group responsible for war, insecurity, fear, and death in Northern Uganda), the people who harassed me in Uganda, my colleagues, the corrupt government or leaders who don’t account for the way money is spent? When I listen to my close friend in Uganda painfully tell me how she was abducted as a girl by the Lord’s Resistance Army and raped, later to give birth to a son, I wonder how I would feel if one of my sisters here were abducted and tortured. Could I love the offender? Could I offer the person water to drink as they pass through my village en route to mutilate more people? Could I offer my only food to the drunken man who beats my child walking home from school? My selective love is not adequate if I want to bring God’s kingdom on earth. Imagine if we all actually loved one another. That’s the type of place I was looking for in Uganda. And I felt some of that unconditional love in my daily life in Uganda. The water my mother would boil the night before so I could drink tea before going to school early the next morning. The smiles and waves my students would cautiously return to me uncertain if it was appropriate. A firm handshake from a villager and laughter after I greeted them in the local language. A narrow bed on which to sleep while my friends’ families slept on mud floors. Where do you see God's kingdom on earth?

John 13:35 states “by this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” One of the greatest ways we can witness to others is to simply love one another. And in Uganda, love meant listening to perplexing stories and telling others embarrassing stories of my attempts to fit into culture. Love meant offering my water bottle when no one else had water. Love meant washing my pregnant sister’s clothes. Love meant eating 15 mangoes from a basin to show my gratitude for the food offered when I visited people during mango season. Love meant paying my friend’s taxi fare so we could visit her relatives in a neighbouring city. Love meant practicing Ugandan customs. And I hadn’t understood the magnitude of these seemingly simple and innocent actions until a few weeks before I left. When colleagues, students, and friends repeatedly approached me to thank me for accepting them, for participating in their ceremonies and daily lives, for eating their bland but filling meals, for smiling when words couldn’t express myself, for loving them. Maybe I did something right. Maybe God used me to bring some of His Kingdom to earth afterall.