One of the things that a westerner notices when they come to Africa is how dark it is at night. There are no lights. In Jinja we have power all the time but it still is dark compared to Europe and North America. Vehicle headights never seem bright enough to do the job. Security lights don't penetrate but a few feet and in the village you had better have a good idea where you are and where your stuff is because there are only kerosene lamps to illuminate your night.
And when the night is long it can really bring despair.
In areas near the Nile River or Lake Victoria people are afraid to go out at night due to crocodiles. People have been eaten as they stepped out of their houses into the dark heading for the latrine to ease themselves. The long dark African night favors the wildlife so people stay locked in.
For some the long dark night is due to the thieves outside. Estimates for Uganda indicate 80% of young people are unemployed and many are turning to crime to make a living. If you are the average town dweller you don't venture out on foot after 10:00pm. This past Tuesday, the night guard for the compound two doors up from us was attacked with a panga, receiving serious head wounds. Meanwhile a suspected thief was killed two blocks from the church. No one is sure if he was a thief or not but it is another reason to stay indoors after dark so you don't get killed.
Many struggle in the night to keep their children safe from ritual killings called for by the traditional healer (witchdoctor) who has been hired to make someone wealthy or fertile or to get a spouse. It has gotten to the point that adults are often killed when no suitable child can be found. And what of the kids who have no adult to protect them. How long is their night?
For others the long night is because of the poor living conditions. Poor workmanship or lack of materials cause many to huddle into a corner of the house when it rains trying to keep themselves and their children warm and dry. That makes for a very long night. The same construction problems cause families to live with no protection against the mosquitoes that carry malaria and other diseases.
But perhaps the worst are those who face the darkness during illness. Living in Jinja we am blessed that we can get into our vehicle and get to a clinic in five minutes. People in the village cannot. If a man's wife or child falls very sick the best he can do is put the sick person on a bicycle and walk them five to twenty kilometers to get treatment. Saturday, the newspaper had a picture of a man crying out to passersby as he tried to lift his wife up off the ground. He had already carried her 5 kilometers and had seven more to go to reach medical care. This was in the daylight. What if it was at night? Who could or would help him. What is his level of despair? Where is his hope? Where is the hope for all those who face the long dark African night?
The solution to the long dark African night is light. The light of God's word. The light of Jesus, the Light of the world. Without His light nothing works. The despair in the African night grows and overwhelms without an end in sight. But God in his wisdom puts His children at the point where the light meets the dark.
Friday aternoon I went with the SOM students to a deliverance conference. There were 1500-2000 born again believers there. The name of Jesus was spoken and proclaimed many times but His word was never shared. At one point the speaker had the crowd repeat the name of Jesus 15 times and by doing so the people would receive the miracle they had come for. As I thought about it it occurred to me that they could have been shouting any name. It really didn't matter to them as long as they received their miracle of fertility, wealth, health and abundance. Yet the miracle they truly needed, a relationship with the Son of God, was never offered to them. The main teachers each drove up in successively more expensive vehicles. They would not leave their air-conditioned vehicles until it was time to take the stage. Their desire to be praised by men but at the same time giving no comfort to them was appalling.
2Corinthians 1:3-7 "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, The Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort."
Whether it is through the Gospel of Jesus Christ, through His protection or His provision, we need to comfort those in the long dark night with the comfort we have received from Him. People are in trouble, am I offering any comfort or hope? Am I giving those around me what Jesus died to give us all? Hope that He has done away with the penalty of sin for those who believe? Hope that He protects us from evil? Hope that He moves His people to be there for others?
Father God, thank you for taking us out of the darkness and into your light. Let our light shine in the darkness as well, easing the despair and hopelessness of those who long for the dawning of your light in their life. Amen
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
The Great Jinja July 4th Bake Off
The time was just past noon when the competition began.
As I had decided to make a cake for Julie, whose birthday is the 4th of July, I began gathering the necessary ingredients. The recipe looked simple enough. I could do this in my sleep, or so I thought. Flour, sugar, eggs, shortening, vanilla, cocoa powder, and baking powder. Is that the same as baking soda or are they different? Bev let out a groan and said "No, the powder is upper shelf that's soda in your hand." I mumbled something akin to "Thanks" but my mind was already going back to my daughter's 19th birtday. That was the last time I had made a cake from scratch. The mind still recoils at the memory of the mess I made. Did you know that two tablespoons of baking powder go a lot farther than the two teaspoons the recipe called for. Did you also know that overly agitated German choclate cake batter was used by Atilla the hun as armor? At least I'm sure it could have been after trying to scrape it off the oven walls and bottom. But hey, that was 18 years ago surely oven cleaning techniques have improved, I hoped.
Pressing onward I began to make the batter. Looked pretty good and as I began to add the baking powder low & behold the recipe had changed to baking soda. Someone ought to tell these cookbook publishers that they need to issue better updates rather than just changing ingredients when the baker is not looking. But clever fellow that I am I caught the problem in time and made the switch.
As I was just putting the pans in the oven Kelli came in the kitchen. Eyeing her suspiciously I asked "Whas up?" Her response was "Oh, I'm making cookies to take to the Davises."
You must understand that Kelli, Bev and I have a contest to see who is the least coordinated. Last night Kelli and I fought to a 3-3 draw on dings in the walls moving furniture. Kelli being in the kitchen at the same time as me was a definite threat to cleanliness and well being of the compound as well as to my title of King Klutz. Feeling the pressure to drop the cake pans for an easy win I forced them into the oven checked my watch and set off to read for 30-35 minutes or until my toothpick was dry.
About 20 minutes later Kelli asked," Uh, Jess, did you want the oven off or on?"
"I turned it on ," I said. "But it's not hot." Man, it's those little things that get you!
Turning it on I decide it was time to make the frosting. As Kelli had cookie dough in the mixmaster I chose to use a whip for my topping.
What snow in Jinja in June? No, it is icing sugar! Apparently you have to start real slow with the whip. But I soon had the technique mastered and before long the cakes were done and ready to frost. I'd estimate that 90% of the icing was used to fill the two craters that were my fallen cakes. But in the end they looked nice. And I knew it was envy that caused Kelli to suggest I use on of her cookies to fill in the flat spot in the side of the cake. I assured her it was a planned design so that the christmas tree... I mean cake could sit closer to the wall. (yeah like you never use that excuse)
Clean up took roughly 1 and 1/2 hours. But it was an opportunity to be a man of integrity. Under my cookbook I found Kelli's top secret chocolate chip cookie recipe. As it is widely known that this receipe makes the best cookies in the world I was holding a goldmine in my hand. Look out "Famous Amos", "Jess the Mess" is in town! Then I thought what would happen to her when the Wee Little People (not the Keebler Elves or the Irish mafia) came calling. All the kids on the compound would be heartbroken. No free cookies! So I gave the receipe back. I cleaned the kitchen with a greater enthusiam knowing I had done the right thing. Who cares about baking anyway. As Bev says,"You may not cook but you wash the best dishes in town!" "Don't leave spots on the spoons."
As I had decided to make a cake for Julie, whose birthday is the 4th of July, I began gathering the necessary ingredients. The recipe looked simple enough. I could do this in my sleep, or so I thought. Flour, sugar, eggs, shortening, vanilla, cocoa powder, and baking powder. Is that the same as baking soda or are they different? Bev let out a groan and said "No, the powder is upper shelf that's soda in your hand." I mumbled something akin to "Thanks" but my mind was already going back to my daughter's 19th birtday. That was the last time I had made a cake from scratch. The mind still recoils at the memory of the mess I made. Did you know that two tablespoons of baking powder go a lot farther than the two teaspoons the recipe called for. Did you also know that overly agitated German choclate cake batter was used by Atilla the hun as armor? At least I'm sure it could have been after trying to scrape it off the oven walls and bottom. But hey, that was 18 years ago surely oven cleaning techniques have improved, I hoped.
Pressing onward I began to make the batter. Looked pretty good and as I began to add the baking powder low & behold the recipe had changed to baking soda. Someone ought to tell these cookbook publishers that they need to issue better updates rather than just changing ingredients when the baker is not looking. But clever fellow that I am I caught the problem in time and made the switch.
As I was just putting the pans in the oven Kelli came in the kitchen. Eyeing her suspiciously I asked "Whas up?" Her response was "Oh, I'm making cookies to take to the Davises."
You must understand that Kelli, Bev and I have a contest to see who is the least coordinated. Last night Kelli and I fought to a 3-3 draw on dings in the walls moving furniture. Kelli being in the kitchen at the same time as me was a definite threat to cleanliness and well being of the compound as well as to my title of King Klutz. Feeling the pressure to drop the cake pans for an easy win I forced them into the oven checked my watch and set off to read for 30-35 minutes or until my toothpick was dry.
About 20 minutes later Kelli asked," Uh, Jess, did you want the oven off or on?"
"I turned it on ," I said. "But it's not hot." Man, it's those little things that get you!
Turning it on I decide it was time to make the frosting. As Kelli had cookie dough in the mixmaster I chose to use a whip for my topping.
What snow in Jinja in June? No, it is icing sugar! Apparently you have to start real slow with the whip. But I soon had the technique mastered and before long the cakes were done and ready to frost. I'd estimate that 90% of the icing was used to fill the two craters that were my fallen cakes. But in the end they looked nice. And I knew it was envy that caused Kelli to suggest I use on of her cookies to fill in the flat spot in the side of the cake. I assured her it was a planned design so that the christmas tree... I mean cake could sit closer to the wall. (yeah like you never use that excuse)
Clean up took roughly 1 and 1/2 hours. But it was an opportunity to be a man of integrity. Under my cookbook I found Kelli's top secret chocolate chip cookie recipe. As it is widely known that this receipe makes the best cookies in the world I was holding a goldmine in my hand. Look out "Famous Amos", "Jess the Mess" is in town! Then I thought what would happen to her when the Wee Little People (not the Keebler Elves or the Irish mafia) came calling. All the kids on the compound would be heartbroken. No free cookies! So I gave the receipe back. I cleaned the kitchen with a greater enthusiam knowing I had done the right thing. Who cares about baking anyway. As Bev says,"You may not cook but you wash the best dishes in town!" "Don't leave spots on the spoons."
Friday, July 1, 2011
Lost on the Way to the Burial or What's Your Point?
Grace and his wife Patricia are two people I just can't help but love. Grace is a SOM student and a secondary school teacher. Tall and quiet he is an excellent example of how we believers should behave. Yesterday we buried Grace's father. It's not very funny really. Cypriano died of tetanus while suffering from cancer. But this story is about what happened on the way to the village.
We were supposed to be there by midday but we didn't leave till 12:30. We were waiting for those who wanted a ride on the bus we rented. When we finally left we had to come back because we had forgotten the speaker system. Well, not we but me. The PA system is why we were supposed to go early as the burial could not begin until the sound system was set up.
By 1:00 pm we had traveled the first 36 k's and all went well. Then we got onto the dirt road. In twenty minutes we would be there, a bit later than planned but still early for the 2:00pm burial. But after a long 1 & 1/2 hour drive the passengers on the bus mutinied. As we stopped to ask for directions, fingers started pointing in every direction. "I know where we are! We need to go that way!" While others with their fingers pointed said "I knew we'd get lost!" This was quite amusing since no one voiced that opinion until after it was found to be true that we were hopelessly lost.
My personal feeling was that since this dirt road was wide and smooth, I'd rather be lost and moving on a good road than be stuck, broken down or bounced into oblivion on a bad road, even if I knew where I was. The truth is there are not that many good dirt roads around here so the wise man stays on the good road, forgets the burial and enjoys the ride.
No one else seemed to share my viewpoint. Can't imagine why. But having gotten directions from a passing seven year old who had probably never been outside his village, we took off again in a cloud of dust. We may have been lost but there was no point in being late! At the next crossroads we did better. This kid was probably 9years old but what sold us was the way he said, "I know where I am. Do you?" Good point! Following his precise directions, "Just there" (and asking everyone in sight)we arrived promptly at 3:00 pm. Only three hours behind schedule. The rest was easy.
With the exception of the thirty-five minute down pour, I just read my Bible as the service was in Lusoga with no translation. I kept my mouth shut since I only know how to say, "How are you?" and "Bye" and neither one seemed good. Cypriano obviously wasn't well as was evidenced by his being in a coffin and he probably wasn't going to say farewell either!
The ride home was uneventful. I even made it home for dinner.
All fun aside, we went to the burial to honor our friend Grace. The more friends he has attend the greater he is valued in his village. And even greater still is the honor given to his father, who raised a son who is so loved that these people would come to honor the father through the son. Sounds just like our heavenly Father and our friend Jesus. Father God, let us always give you glory through your son, Jesus Christ!
We were supposed to be there by midday but we didn't leave till 12:30. We were waiting for those who wanted a ride on the bus we rented. When we finally left we had to come back because we had forgotten the speaker system. Well, not we but me. The PA system is why we were supposed to go early as the burial could not begin until the sound system was set up.
By 1:00 pm we had traveled the first 36 k's and all went well. Then we got onto the dirt road. In twenty minutes we would be there, a bit later than planned but still early for the 2:00pm burial. But after a long 1 & 1/2 hour drive the passengers on the bus mutinied. As we stopped to ask for directions, fingers started pointing in every direction. "I know where we are! We need to go that way!" While others with their fingers pointed said "I knew we'd get lost!" This was quite amusing since no one voiced that opinion until after it was found to be true that we were hopelessly lost.
My personal feeling was that since this dirt road was wide and smooth, I'd rather be lost and moving on a good road than be stuck, broken down or bounced into oblivion on a bad road, even if I knew where I was. The truth is there are not that many good dirt roads around here so the wise man stays on the good road, forgets the burial and enjoys the ride.
No one else seemed to share my viewpoint. Can't imagine why. But having gotten directions from a passing seven year old who had probably never been outside his village, we took off again in a cloud of dust. We may have been lost but there was no point in being late! At the next crossroads we did better. This kid was probably 9years old but what sold us was the way he said, "I know where I am. Do you?" Good point! Following his precise directions, "Just there" (and asking everyone in sight)we arrived promptly at 3:00 pm. Only three hours behind schedule. The rest was easy.
With the exception of the thirty-five minute down pour, I just read my Bible as the service was in Lusoga with no translation. I kept my mouth shut since I only know how to say, "How are you?" and "Bye" and neither one seemed good. Cypriano obviously wasn't well as was evidenced by his being in a coffin and he probably wasn't going to say farewell either!
The ride home was uneventful. I even made it home for dinner.
All fun aside, we went to the burial to honor our friend Grace. The more friends he has attend the greater he is valued in his village. And even greater still is the honor given to his father, who raised a son who is so loved that these people would come to honor the father through the son. Sounds just like our heavenly Father and our friend Jesus. Father God, let us always give you glory through your son, Jesus Christ!
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