Rays of Light, Smiles of Joy

After two weeks at our placement in Namaliri, Uganda, we are finally beginning to develop a routine. Mondays and Tuesdays we board a Matatu, a Ugandan taxi that's more like a 15-passenger van, and take the 2 hour trek into Kampala, a trek that could easily turn into 4 or 5 hours with the rush hour traffic. Monday is our day off, and we spend it on the Internet and eating the foods that we have been craving all week. On Tuesdays we have team training in the outskirts of Kampala at the Oasis Uganda headquarters. It's a time for Bible Study and sharing experiences thus far, whether it be about frogs found in suitcases or the number of cockroaches in the latrines.

Our work week begins in the middle of the week on Wednesday, though our time teaching in Namaliri seems far more relaxing than the traveling back and forth that happens at the beginning of the week. The majority of our time is spent giving Gospel lessons in schools. On Wednesday we are at a disabled school just across the main road, on Thursday we alternate visiting schools in the community, and on Friday we squeeze seven lessons into two hours at a primary school (here it is nursery through year seven) down the street. Our evenings are spent becoming a part of the Christian community. We lead a Bible Study on Wednesday nights and Attend a Fellowship group on Thursdays. On Saturdays we hold a kids club in the afternoon, and it seems that one hour with 100 kids that don't speak your language is all one can bear. In the evening we have a short youth group, which consists of only girls. It took a bit to break the ice with them, but I am excited to see the impact that we can have on them, especially since some are Muslim. Sunday mornings are spent in church, and I keep meaning to ask our hosts to write down the Luganda lyrics to the songs to that I can actually know what's going on, but for now I'll just stick to playing the shaker. During the sermon we sneak out with the kids and let them use our colored pencils, which it turns out could keep them occupied for hours. In the evenings we are meant to do community evangelism, but this week, we went beyond our community and took a Matatu about 30 minutes away to a hospital where we were supposed to bring encouragement. It sounded easy enough, but it turned out God had a bigger lesson for me than I was expecting and I was about to face a difficult truth.

As I walked into towards women's ward at the hospital I imagined myself as Princess Diana, reaching out to touch the sick and oppressed when no one else would. It has always been my aspiration and was about to become reality, but as I entered the room with eight beds crammed in holding 8 frail half-naked bodies, females aged 6 to 76, I realized that it was going to be more difficult than I had thought. We came specifically to encourage and pray for the sister of one of the pastors of our church, and when Rachael, our host, asked us to share our words of encouragement, we all became speechless. I didn't know what to say, except that even in her suffering she can glorify God. And as we all prayed for her, each of our voices joining together to form a choir of prayer, I prayed for complete healing.

As we moved to the following bed to pray for the next patient, I asked what had made her ill. And though Rachael did not say anything, I could see it in her eyes and I was reminded of the sickness that takes thousands of lives a day in Africa: the woman, Harriet had AIDS. Rachael told us that it was likely that all of the patients in the ward were suffering of this fatal disease, and as we walked towards the next bed, and the next, I no longer knew how to encourage, and I no longer knew how to pray. There were eight beds with eight AIDS victims in that ward, and I only made it to three of them. While we were praying for the third woman, who said that we should pray for healing because she believed God could heal her, I left. I needed fresh air and an explanation. I sat outside on a step in contemplation. I know God can heal, as it is evidenced by the many miracles performed by Jesus as well as his disciples in the Bible, but I also know that with AIDS, especially without the proper treatment, death is inevitable. I felt I couldn't pray for healing if indeed they wouldn't be healed. But what, then, could I pray for. And as I silently cried on that step for those eight women of millions who have suffered from AIDS, it began to rain. And in that cool quick African rain God reminded me that he truly does suffer when His children suffer, but death isn't the end to Him. He wants our souls, and that is what I should pray for. That is where true salvation lies. Soon after this realization, the rain died down and I was guided back into the ward by a ray of light and a gentle breeze.

My team was praying for the last woman, and as I prayed, I did pray that God would heal her. But I prayed that He would heal her in the way she must be healed so that she can know His salvation; that might be spiritual healing, emotional healing, or it might even be physical healing, but God, the Conductor of the orchestra that is our lives, knows what is needed. As Jesus says in John chapter 9, people are ailed with sickness "so that God's mercy might be demonstrated," whether it be the public healing of the body or the private healing of a soul.

As we left the ward, I smiled at the girl who had been lying in the corner. I wasn't around when they prayed for her, but I was told that she was manipulated and raped by an old witch doctor in her village that was infected with AIDS. He had told her that he would kill her if she told anyone, but when her mother noticed she was walking strangely, she was able to get the truth out of her and rushed her to the hospital. This girl is six years old.

But she beamed back when I smiled at her, and at that moment I knew exactly what to pray for. I prayed that that single smile--that beautiful smile--would be enough joy from God to last her her lifetime, however long or short that might be.