Bread Please?

I've just returned from a breathtaking trip to Uganda.  Although I've been there before, I still came home in a bewildered state.  I was bewildered by how I so easily forget that 99% of the world doesn't live like I do.  I was bewildered when I looked at buffets, clean clothes, and toilets that flush.  But quickly my bewildered rag of emotion turned to a smooth linen of joy.  Something in me began to well up as I reflected on the days I spent traversing the remotest parts of the earth.  Every ounce of comfort; every scrap of routine or predictability was yanked from my control loving mind.  We were on a quest to the core of humanity.  The place where the God of heaven meets the desperate on Earth. 

The trip started out a bit rough as my team arrived at Bush International Airport in Houston.  As we quickly unloaded our luggage my heart sank as I realized my backpack, (stocked with my passport and money) was accidentally left on the front porch of my home 45 minutes away.  With 3 members of our team crying, I sent them off, assuring them I would join them the next day.  It takes 2 days to get to Uganda, so I would miss our first day at the orphanage--but I was encouraged that I wouldn't miss any of the time I was expected to speak at The Miracle Crusade.  I boasted to our team "If this is the worst Satan can heap on us...Bring it!"  Oh my...was I in for a wild ride...

The delay proved to be a blessing as I spent the better part of the next 48 hours ingesting the Bible. I was ready.  Prepared. Expectant.  Our plan was to spend the first 3 days of the trip at Musana orphanage.  I was going to speak at their church on Sunday, and lead a Bible study that night for the adults that work there.  When I woke that morning I was in a hurry to get ready.  I noticed some marks on my face, but it wasn't until late afternoon that I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror.  I was bitten by a spider 21 times on my face during the night.  I looked like someone took a bright red marker and drew all over my face.  I hate spiders! And the thought of one marching across my face about made me sick.  Somehow I knew I was living out my challenge to Satan.  "Bring it!" was now starting to hurt a bit...

Our next stop was to travel to a remote village where the crusade was being held.  When I say remote, I mean off the maps, dirt road, traveling for hours in the dark to a place we aren't even sure exists.  I kept encouraging the team "Faith not fear..." as we finally stepped out of our dusty van.  We crawled to our beds knowing that the conference began in the morning, but as I lay in bed that night I started to feel the familiar greeting of an unwelcome intruder.  Violent diarrhea and stomach pain kept me awake all night as I ran to the toilet every 15 minutes.  As dawn approached I knew I had to make a decision.  If I had been at home, I probably would have been in Urgent Care I was so dehydrated, but I decided to trust God to somehow get me through the day. 

We pulled up to an old railway grounds where the conference was taking place.  Hundreds and hundreds of people were gathered; some sitting ,some standing, and some trying to get a glimpse from afar. Faces like caramel smiled with yellowed teeth, they hugged us and welcomed us to their village.   I taught from the Bible 3 times that day, and at one point needed to be held up by one of the women on our team. I was so weak--but I knew we were part of the canvas that God was painting over that place for a few magical days. 

Every time we would get to a part of the bible where God had a victory the people would wildly shout "Amen! Amen!" They danced to the music and jumped in praise.  Young kids were perched on a mountainside that sat next to the stage, families seemed to pop out of the cornfields in the distance.  I wondered if this was how Jesus felt when he preached to the multitudes. 

At times I questioned how I would communicate to these gorgeous people.  With so many different languages being spoke between them, I wondered if they understood me at all.  And then God imparted a message to me.  He simply said "power is perfected in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12)  I realized that it made no difference whether they understood my language.  It didn't matter that I come from such different life-experiences.  What matters is that we all need the bread of life, and He was feeding us all in ways we'd never capture with words. 

The picture I placed at the top of this blog was taken on the streets of Jinga in Uganda.  A pack of about 7 young boys, obviously homeless and hungry, were making their way down a busy street.  I watched as people ignored them or looked at them with skeptic mistrust.  When they came to me they started with a "tourist" act to make me feel bad for them.  They didn't have to because I already felt bad for them.  I simply asked "What do you need?"  One of the older boys whispered "We need bread."
I gave them enough money to buy several loaves, but wanted to make sure that's what they were buying, so I followed them to a small market.  You've never seen such elation over loaves of bread.  They jumped, they hugged, and they embraced me with sweet thanks.  I shook my head in humility as I uttered to the Lord "Isn't that what we all need?  The bread of life?  Aren't we all in need of it?" 

I learned more lessons in Africa than I taught. 
I'm desperate for His bread, and will never forget the "Amens!"  of my African friends who are desperate right along with me.

Blessings!
Gari