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!