Manry Family

Whether or not we are aware of it, life is experienced as a series of contrasts.  We live within the up and down wavelengths created by night and day, cold and hot, rich and poor, happy and sad, and this is certainly true in Uganda as it is everywhere else.  Over the weekend I experienced two events representing the ultimate contrast in this world--death and life—which left powerful impressions on me.

I attended a funeral on Saturday which contained images and implications I’m still trying to process.  The funeral was for David Mutto, who died in his forties, a father of nine children (seven biologically and two adopted nephews), and the brother of Grace Nyanga, one of the primary leaders in the Busoga church movement.  I witnessed the event with four other missionaries among a crowd of around three hundred Ugandans crowded into a small village compound.  It seemed (and still seems) surreal to me: the long speeches in Lusoga, the tight mass of people looking for footing on the muddy ground, the sound of women wailing, the shallow hole in the red ground.  As I walked away from the scene I thought of Grace who will be answering the questions of David’s family, especially his widowed sister-in-law, “What will you do?  What will you do for these children?  What will happen to this home?  What will you do for us?”  All of this while dealing his own grief over losing his brother.

My first experience worshipping in a village church provided a sharp contrast to Saturday’s somber gathering.  On Sunday morning, we traveled to Namulesa village where a new church was being established in the home of Jonah Higenyi, a hard-working man whose fortunes changed when he was hit by a vehicle while riding his bicycle.  Unable to travel freely, Jonah desired to have a church planted in his village so that he could once again be active in a church family.  On this rainy morning, eight of us joined around thirty Ugandans, including many from the churches in nearby villages to worship God.  We packed into this newly bricked house on a crushed rock floor and celebrated God’s presence while the rain beat on the tin roof and chickens circled around our feet.  For about two and a half hours, the Bible was read, songs were sung, encouragement given, and prayers were offered, all in Lusoga translated into English for us Bazungu.  I was thankful for the translation but even more thankful that the God who received their words did not need a translator to be blessed by their expression of faith.

I have to believe that what happened on Sunday–the birth and formation of a new community of faith and the sharing of life in Christ, is the answer to what had happened on Saturday.  It is not a simple solution or one that produces immediate results.  But it is God’s answer.  He chooses to redeem this broken world by restoring and redeeming our relationships with each other and Him, giving us life even amidst death, and hope that is enduring and real.