Uganda Day 2

Posted on March 12, 2011 by Robert Franklin

This is my third trip to Uganda and I am so impressed with all three teams who came.  I am particularly proud of the three women I am working alongside this trip.  Two are young enough to be my daughter and one looks like she could be, so I am now “father” to all three.  More than one person along the way has asked about Leslie, DeAndra and Danielle assuming they are daughters of mine.  One man told another in my hearing that I needed special courtesy since I was traveling with my three daughters.  I think it was a compliment, but I am not for sure.

These women have undergone some interesting travel for long hours with joy.  They are interacting with a culture we have no connection to in our home.  They are sharing the hope that resides in their hearts without reservation.  On the flight from Dulles to Addis Ababa, Danielle and DeAndra were occupied attending to an ancient woman who could not speak English, but who needed consistent help or attention during the twelve-hour flight.  It was humbling to witness to collegiates so naturally step up to serve a stranger, on a strange airline, en route to a strange land.

[Fact break:  On Ethiopia Airlines after the meal is served, ambulatory individuals are invited to the galley to serve themselves whatever they wish.  If some water is needed, get up and retrieve it.  Beer, wine, sandwich?  The same; you may ask for directions, but the flight attendants are only expected to point and verbally direct.  It was kind of fun to have the run of the kitchen on a Boeing 777]

We visited a friend today in Namuwongo, a poor neighborhood in Kampala.  Most of the town is a slum beyond description.  Not even pictures or video do justice to the poverty.  The confluence of open sewage, homemade alcohol (“hooch”), burning garbage and charcoal braziers is not an awful smell, it is just a completely unfamiliar and often confusing odor.

We were privileged to go out into the neighborhood, weaving our way through the narrow alleyways and sharing the love of God through Jesus with those who would allow us to speak to them.  We had the privilege of witnessing Esther, Edison and Betty become  followers of Jesus and we had two more first-time additions to the Namuwongo congregation.

We were especially encouraged that our dear Pastor Thomas is moved out of the slum area.  His family now lives in a modest three room apartment that most Americans would consider a poor excuse for a garage.  He pays his rent in full and on time, but his landlord often does not pay the electric bill so Pastor Thomas’ family goes without the three lights and two outlets in the home.  Yet Pastor Thomas is happy to be away from the constant bacteria transmitted by the open sewer and the malaria transmitted by the mosquitoes breeding literally less than 50 feet away from his old apartment.

John, who I believe to be Pastor Thomas’ youngest son, sang for us all when we went to visit.  He performed several sacred selections and then sang a song about food.

Without food we can not grow,

Without food we can not sleep,

Without food we can not play,

Without food we can not sing,

Without food we can not stand,

Without food we can not learn…

It was beautifully done, complete with supporting song-motions.  These are the moments when I am barely able to be present.  He was a five-year old child, small by American standards, a discarded infant “onesie” for his shirt singing earnestly about the simple importance of food.  I know for a fact this child has experienced hunger even though his father is a righteous man, working two jobs.

I was also challenged by Pastor Thomas’ welcome into his home.  He introduced himself as if we all didn’t already know him.  He insisted we each introduce ourselves, then he proceeded to welcome us in a prayer-song, then a prayer.  If we did not already know he was a servant of Jesus, we knew it after “hello” was said.  It got me to wondering if anyone would ever visit me at my home if I did the same.  I asked the team, they agreed such behavior would seem crazy in America.  I think they are correct, yet my heart wants my guest to be equally warmly received and challenged by the magnificent love of Jesus.

Tomorrow is worship in Namuwongo again followed by a love-feast.*  This ought to be good!

*The love feast is an ancient Christian practice of celebrating the Lord’s table in the context of a meal.  It would be during the regular partaking of something akin to a “potluck” that the pastor or elder or bishop of the church would celebrate “communion” with the parishioners and all would go home well-fed.  We will be doing something vaguely resembling that practice.

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Uganda, Day 1

Posted on March 12, 2011 by Robert Franklin

Our Uganda adventure began in Cincinnati one day early and eight tickets short. When we arrived at the Delta ticket counter ready for our new flight schedule we immediately received two unwelcome items of news. First, the itinerary with which Ethiopia Airlines replaced our original itinerary with was not “active,” AND second the Delta flight we were supposed to take to Dulles airport had been cancelled. Rather than a direct flight to the Washington D.C. area, our route would be Cincinnati to Detroit (layover) and then to Dulles. Our new arrival time would be four hours later than planned.

We then stood at the ticket counter for a full 65 minutes while new tickets and a new itinerary were created. Even though our new flight was to leave 30 minutes after our original flight, it took so long to not solve our itinerary problem that we literally had to run to catch our flight. At least that is what we were told. Although the very pleasant ticket agent told us the Detroit flight was on time, our exasperated group arrived at the gate a full hour before the late plane was to leave the airport. We had plenty of time to cool off, I suppose.

Detroit was uneventful. We ate courtesy of Delta airlines and took off late from there as well. When we retrieved our luggage from the Dulles baggage carousel, we went out into the midnight wind and rain to wait for the promised hotel shuttle. Lest it seem like a complaint, I will only say it took about 40 minutes to get a shuttle that would deliver us to the hotel about one mile away. We were to arrive at our overnight lodging about 8pm Wednesday night, we arrived 1am Thursday morning.

We agreed that showing up at Dulles airport well ahead of the required two-hour-prior international check-in time would be a good idea. It was. Ethiopia Airlines did not reissue our tickets even though the international desk agent for Delta spent an hour on the phone with them “fixing the problem” not more than sixteen hours prior. The lovely Ethiopian Airlines ticket agent assured me it was no problem, instructed me to put our 8 pieces of luggage out of the way and to take a seat across the terminal. One hour later, we finally had our tickets in hand.

The flight from there to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia was good. The Addis airport is something akin to a Greyhound bus station. If you have never been to a Greyhound bus station, then I don’t know exactly what to compare the experience. Suffice it to say, it was a little confusing, but we moved from one place to another via overpopulated people movers (buses) and found our way to our connecting flight to Entebbe, Uganda.

We arrived at Entebbe, filled out the immigration forms, retrieved ALL our luggage (Praise God from whom all blessings flow…praise him all creatures here below…) We exited the airport and our Ugandan connection was not present. I exchanged some dollars for shillings, purchased a mobile SIM card and minutes and phoned our contact. He had just arrived. His vehicle had been involved in an accident on the way to retrieve us from the airport so he was a few minutes delayed. [By the way, it cost me $13USD to purchase access to the local wireless service and to charge my phone with enough credit to last me most of the week we will be in Uganda]

We travelled to our guest house, took long overdue showers (it had been 20 hours since our last blessed soap and water) and went to dinner with our hosts.

We normally allow our missionary hosts to choose where to eat so we ended going to an Indian restaurant called “Sizzler” where we listened to Phil Collins playing on the radio. It was truly a multicultural experience.

I will post pictures as I am able, our access is very limited to the internet, but I am grateful to be able to update at least periodically.

Today we go to work in the one of the slums of Kampala, sharing Jesus’ love with whoever will listen. Looking forward to what God has in store.

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The Peter Principle

Posted on February 28, 2011 by Robert Franklin

According to Dr. Laurence Peter,  “In a hierarchy, every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence.”  If I may put even a finer point to the theory, every institution is doomed to be led and managed by successive levels of unqualified individuals.

Thank God!

I know from personal experience that is frustrating and even demoralizing to be led or managed by someone whose incapability is obvious.  However, if everyone found their level of proficiency and remained staid in that position we would collectively perish of boredom.  No, it is far more interesting to be able to zig, zag, push, pull, step and climb to the highest place possible.  The summit of Everest would remain unexplored if we remained where the air was appropriate.

I believe this proficiency/possibility tension is really a God designed conundrum.  We are created capable and adaptable and insufficient.  It appears evident to me God allows us to be discontent so we have an interior motive to seek him and an interior reason to be humble before him.

In the beginning when the tree of the knowledge of good and evil occupied the center of the garden, God invited his creation to both desire more and to come to Him to fulfill that desire.  Our current sad state of affairs is the direct result of saying to God, “Nope, I got it.  I can do it myself.  I am qualified.”

We are not.

God’s design and invitation remains unchanged.  The promised resource of the Holy Spirit is powerful enough to take even the most inadequate individual up to accomplish extraordinary things again and again.

So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor. (1 Peter 5.6, NLT)

For the next couple of months, my friends at Main Street will be considering the principles Peter wrote about and attempting together to attain greater heights.

 

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The Else Family

Posted on February 18, 2011 by Robert Franklin

The Else family resides in a town not too far from here.  In fact, you may know them as your neighbors.  They are five in number: Pa, Ma, and three teenage sons.  The eldest boy is lanky and possesses one of those voices that is easily heard even in the midst of a noisy crowd.  The middle boy is a studious fellow, of average height and build.  He wears glasses just for show.  He thinks the spectacles make him appear intelligent and serious.  The youngest is pudgy in every way.  Ma hates it when people use that word to describe her son, especially when it is one of the older brothers speaking, but if anyone better fits the picture, he is yet to be found.

Since the boys are more than old enough to be left alone for the day, Ma and Pa often leave for town to do their errands and to purchase the enormous amounts of food necessary to feed their boys.  The young men are left with a list of things to be accomplished around the house.

Pa always says the same thing before he and Ma would climb into their rust-eaten Chevy pickup truck, “Boys, a friend of mine may be dropping by.  Make sure you let him in and treat him to some of Ma’s chess pie.  Tell him we will be back in a little while.  Remember to keep an eye on the property so that no mischief happens.  Do your chores.  Idle hands are the devil’s marketplace.  Keep busy boys.”  The boys rarely said anything in response, but always nodded in respectful assent.

This is an account of one of those days.

No sooner than the truck was out of sight, the three boys began to laze around the house.  Several hours passed, the youngest two had nearly finished watching a second movie on the television and the oldest boy was in a marathon conversation with his girlfriend on the telephone.

It was precisely at this time that Pa’s friend, Mr. Opportunity, came to the Else’s kitchen door.  A polite, gentlemanly fellow who normally walked everywhere he visited,  Opportunity arrived quietly so the boys did not hear him come up the drive.  He knocked on the door glass with his signature, “Rat-a-tat-tat-tat, Rat-a-tat-tat-tat.” Pa’s friend waited patiently to be invited inside.

The oldest boy heard the rapping, covered the phone with palm of his hand and yelled to his brother, “Anybody, answer the door!”  Now Anybody Else was a typical middle child and he despised being told what to do.  So he ignored his older brother and the “Rat-a-tat-tat, Rat-a-tat-tat,” sound just a few feet away.  Somebody Else continued to hear the tapping so he yelled more loudly, “Anybody, answer THE DOOR!”

Anybody was unmoved.  He thought to himself, “If the door is to be answered, Nobody is going to have to do it.”  So he kicked his younger brother in the ribs, waking him from his normal stupor.  “See who is at the door,” he barked.

Unfortunately the youngest earned “pudgy” by being consistently slothful.  He took his time meandering to the door.  Even though Nobody’s trip was a short one, Mr. Opportunity had ample time to decide no one was home and to retreat back down the drive.  Nobody opened the door and the porch was empty.  Nobody shrugged and yelled back at the eldest brother, “Hey, there’s no one here.  Stop bugging us, we’re watching a movie.”

Somebody heard what his brother said even over the cooing voice on the other end of the line.  Not known for his deep thinking, Somebody made a mental note to ignore any future knocking sounds.  This would be, of course, a terrible mistake.

Mr. Tragedy was next to visit the Else estate.  Unlike the prior visitor his preferred mode of transportation was a sports car, large of engine and loud in exhaust.  All three of the boys knew another visitor had arrived.  Like Mr. Opportunity, Tragedy came to the kitchen door.  Rather than knock, he banged,   “Thud, thud, thud.”

Somebody ignored the noise, just as he purposed to do.  Nobody rolled over on his back and mumbled to Anybody, “It’s your turn to answer the door. Go see who it is.”  Anybody just turned up the volume on the television.

Tragedy, not being a gentlemen of any sort, turned the door knob and let himself into the Else’s home.  Somebody actually saw Tragedy enter, but didn’t want to tell his girl he had to end their conversation, so he decided that it was Anybody’s problem to deal with the stranger wandering about.  “After all,” Somebody thought, “Pa had told Anybody to make sure mischief wasn’t happening while he was gone.”

True to form, Tragedy made a terrible mess of things.  He knocked Ma’s chess pie onto the kitchen floor, breaking the plate into a hundred pieces.  He took some drain cleaner from under the sink and poured it over Pa’s leather easy chair.  The caustic fluid immediately caused smoke to curl upward toward the ceiling as it ate away on Pa’s chair.

The Else’s were a careful bunch, so linked smoke detectors were located in every room.  It was only a matter of moments before the whole house was full of the distinct screeching of alarm.  The sudden noise scared Somebody senseless and he dropped the phone, breaking the handset.  Next, Somebody smelled the smoke and began to scream nearly incoherently, “Anybody, what’s on fire, what’s on fire, what’s on FIRE?”

Anybody, unmotivated by his older brother’s panic, simply kicked Nobody in the ribs again.  “Go see what’s on fire.”  Nobody rolled over with a grunt, got to his feet and shuffled to the living room.  Tragedy pulled the books off shelves and rummaged through the hall closet.  Nobody cried out, “Anybody, come help quick!”

Anybody chose not to come.

Nobody yelled, “Somebody please come help!”  Somebody heard his brother, but paralyzed by fear, he remained fixed in place.

Since there was no response from either brother, Nobody decided there was nothing to be done about the situation.  He calmly sat down in a nearby chair and watched with fascination as Tragedy continued his nefarious work.

Fortunately, Pa arrived home before Tragedy could do much more damage and chased the villain from his home.  Pa silenced the smoke alarms and quickly surveyed the house for any other dangers.

“What is going on here?” Pa bellowed.  The boys, knowing they were in a load of trouble quickly assembled themselves in a pathetic line, “front and center.”

“Where is Mr. Opportunity? Who let that man in here?  How come nothing is done I told you to do?”

“Well, Pa,” Somebody said sheepishly, “Anybody can tell you exactly what happened.”

Anybody glared at his older brother.  Even though he was famous for his quick wit, he couldn’t conjure any suitable story under the present circumstance, so he did the only thing he could think to do.

“It’s Nobody’s fault,” he said pointing an accusing finger in the face of his brother.  Nobody remained silent, his placid countenance unchanged.

The moral of the story is simple:  When Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody Else are left unattended, Opportunity will knock and not be answered, Tragedy will strike and not be confronted, and even the simplest chores will not be completed.

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Zero Pressure

Posted on February 17, 2011 by Robert Franklin

Every winter we give thanks to God for the extra refrigerator space.  As the outside temperature drops to near or below freezing, remaining consistently cold for weeks on end, the little deck outside our home becomes our extra cold storage space.  Leftovers from the family feast, sodas, prepared foods for large upcoming events, it is amazing what we find to put outside.

Sometimes it gets too cold, however, and we have to move items back into the warmer clime of the Frigidaire.  Often we are tardy in this task.  This is why I lost a couple of Coke Zeros a little more than a week ago.  The liquid inside the aluminum canisters froze and literally blew apart the cans, except for the one pictured here.  I am sure some physicist could explain the properties of this particular container and mathematically provide the reasons why this can survived even when its nestling neighbors were obliterated.  I am not able to provide such an explanation, so I am left to marvel at the “Zero that made it through.”

As I mourned the loss of this Zero’s friends and cleaned up the frozen mess of their demise, I couldn’t help but begin to think about how this situation is a microcosm.  I witness over and again people put in the same harsh environmental situation, sometimes side-by-side; some survive, some do not.  What is the difference?  In the case of the Zeros it was the ability to endure pressure. The mystery of this can’s refusal to succumb made it stand out from its cola brethren and caused its ordinary contents to be precious.

How much more for those who are pressed upon by the extremes of this life we live.  Pressure within, pressure without, from where does the ability to survive and be precious come?

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. (2 Corinthians 4:7–10, ESV)

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What’s Love Got to Do with It?

Posted on February 7, 2011 by Robert Franklin

Yesterday I shared with my friends at Main Street that this line from the Tina Turner hit song has been banging around in my head since November 2010.  I am relieved to finally get to share some of my thoughts about the impact of God’s love on our present reality.  Perhaps once February 2011 is past, Tina will leave me alone (forever?!)

Yes, this is the month where we are instructed by a myriad of commercial interests to remember to love someone.  Since we live in an uncertain world, we are also instructed to hope that we are loved in return.  Sadly every Valentine’s Day disappoints many.

I find it exceptionally odd that the only one whose reputation is founded on promises to love in all circumstances is probably also the most maligned by “disappointed” people.  It is simply not enough to be created unique amongst the billions and yet more durable than a snowflake.  It is simply not enough to have at hand resources to sustain life and yet the ability to experience pleasure.  It is simply not enough to be mobile and yet retain in memory where we have been.  It is simply not enough to communicate our thoughts, and yet consider an alternate perspective.  It is simply not enough to wonder or wander, and yet be convinced of common certainties.  It is simply not enough to be guilty, and yet know that we are truly and freely forgiven.

No, we expect all these things and a diamond pendant or an 80 inch flat screen television and a nice card, of course.

“When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.”

(Ephesians 3:14–19, NLT)

 

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