10.12.09: DAY NINETY. Southampton, UK
Home. Everything is fresh and lovely. Every other sentence is, ‘I haven’t... for 3 months’. You need to pray for my crossing the road instincts – apparently stepping out into traffic is not safe here. Everything is quite normal, quite as I’ve always known it, but I have the lightest feeling of strangeness, like a sound in the distance you don’t notice until it’s gone.
The man at immigration announced to me, after several minutes of accusations (me trying to avoid offending him with as many ‘sebo’s as I could muster), that I had lied to get a police report/got my bag stolen just to avoid having to pay for another visa... and sent me through. Praise God. Apart from that the flight was uneventful and boring (except cackling uncontrollably through the latest Pixar film at 5 in the morning). But at least I’m home safe. As I said to Eric, “Things like this remind us we’re not really in control of our lives.” (He said, “I never feel in control.”)
Lost my photos, lost my journals, lost my notes. I'm not going to stop missing them. But thinking about it, most people in the history of the world, most people today, don’t have detailed records of everything in their lives. They use their memories. I’ve still got all those. I’m fine. Although the robbery made me really keen to get home, it’s not putting me off going back. I’m already dreaming about a couple of opportunities...
What makes a good story is that the main character not only does exciting things; they change. So I really hope I have (Tell me if you notice anything!) God’s shown me how passive I can be and how I need to fight for what I’m passionate about, or limit what he can do with me. And he’s pointed out that I try to do everything and cope with everything on my own, worrying that I’m a burden or an irritation to people. There’s some big things to work on! (Please pray for them)
So this is the end of my Ugandan story. If you’ve been reading, thanks for reading. If you’ve been praying, thank you so much for that. It’s made a lot of difference; that immigration guy could have sent me back to buy another visa with money I don’t have. I hope your lives are every bit as full as mine – I’m sure they are, or can be. I hope you have a fantastic Christmas. God hasn’t abandoned us, but come to live with us; what a great thing to celebrate! I think that’s good news for us all.
Love & shalom!
Friday, 11 December 2009
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Days 83-88: Africa wins again
8.12.2009: DAY EIGHTY EIGHT. Eric's Office, the British High Commission.
I stopped eye-sieving the dead ground at the side of the road and slashed, African-style, against a wall. I said out loud, "Jesus. I'm looking forward to how you're going to sort this out. You owe me an explanation."
I should be arriving home in Southampton right about now. But I'm not. I'm sitting in the corner of Eric's office, waiting for the phone call that will tell me my new passport is ready. We was robbed.
YESTERDAY I sent Dad a text, 'All done. Packed. Just left Emmanuel's. Brian & Elspeth taking me for lunch then airport. Very nice! See you tomorrow morning!' We walked out of the restaurant, over to the car, and Brian said, "The car's open." Then I looked at the boot -both rucksacks gone. Um...
The armed Guard pretends not to understand, changes his story, but won't tell us anything. The guy from inside who pretends to be the Manager won't get anything out of him; starts telling us how things are often taken from that car park. I interrupt him, 'saying that doesn't help anything, does it? I asked you how you can employ someone and not be able to trust them.'
It takes me half the drive on to the church to realise that not only my passport, books, journals, work notes, and photos have gone; but the copies of my passport and visa. My flight is at 19:50. I can't leave.
Get to the church and Eric rings. He works at the passport place. There's hope. "You need to get a police report. And two passport photos (Oh- those were in the rucksack as well). And 411,000 for a new passport. (Good grief) And if you come after 4, they will charge you for every hour you keep them - it's 3 now; postpone your flight and come tomorrow." I'm not going home. I want to go home. I'm stuck here. I hope Brian has enough money.
There's a lot of praying in the hope that the two bags will somehow appear. They are bright red and bright orange, after all. We go back and pick over the area before going to the police shed. At least that goes straight forward.
I'm slowly coming out of shock as we drive to Garden City for the photos. Getting used to the idea. Trying to see the positive side. Because I believe there must be one. "In all things he works for the good of those who love him", Elsepth remembers. My new passport photos look pretty good. We see a PINK PINEAPPLE in the car park. We have an affogato and watch the light shift over the city through christmas bunting, and it tastes good (I heave my suitcase up the stairs. Once bitten, twice shy. Could have done with a bit of OCD two hours ago). Someone tries to scam us (we think), and so we wrestle with the old question of giving once again. And Brian tells us how Richard has come up with a new acronym. You've heard of 'TIA', right (brew)? "This is Africa". Well how about 'AWA'? "Africa Wins Again".
SUNDAY
We didn't finish friday so we agreed to have our dress rehearsal after the service. No one brought their costumes. I rang Rose and she was at home - 'I'll be 30 minutes.' '30 minutes?' 'I'm in Bukasa'... Was she going to wait until I phoned? Turn round and discover Judith has gone home. I just told her not to leave. When they all finally arrive I actually tell them all off and make it a teaching point. 'When you're late you mess everyone else about', 'You must communicate with people', 'Dress rehearsal means exactly like performance'. Someone manages to completely ignore me directly asking them questions for 30 seconds, before I give up on the point of despair. I march across the room, bend my knees, and point both hands at the floor. Ssttaanndd hheerree!! I get Felix to lead the warm up. They must hate me. I make them all smile, like 5 year olds. The (non)dress rehearsal is a total drag. I go round Eric's for lunch an hour and a half late.
Guess what? Someone else came 45 minutes late for the warm up. I kept the MCs flapping for 10 minutes making sure the cast were as psyched as I could get them. And they did well... they just about kept going, through the worst series of technical problems I have ever seen.
I specifically arranged with the technical guys that we would use the two sockets on the back of the stage for our lights. We rehearsed the stage set up that afternoon, and rehearsed with the lights in place. But how could it be so easy for the technical guys to stick an extension lead in one socket and wreck everything? Here comes the key moment, where Jesus appears to Paul in a blinding light; where we flick the switch for the main lights off and the spotlight on... and we have complete darkness. 30 kids scream. They think it's a power cut. None of the actors knows what to do. The main lights come on again. Off again. On again. Every time a scream. Finally the spot appears, actors scrabbling round to their places. It looks beautiful. But then we're back to chaos. The mics bang, hum, crackle and fizz; random people tell other random people to go and fiddle the normal lights on; the actors muddle through. And then we have the spotlight switch again at the end. It goes just as badly; it looks just as beautiful. I clap them off as they applaud the wall instead of the sound desk (not deliberately), and there is a bare scatter of other applause. Africa Wins Again.
SATURDAY was great. I went to bed after midnight as we get caught in a great Denzel Washington film about a black university debating society in 30s America. Some scenes that made me feel quite ashamed as a white man in a black room. Reminded me again of the wonder, the power, the importance of story & drama. Why we do it.
Had a great time with Eric, and the waters of the Nile. It smells funny but it feels so good. Forget my perforated eardrum. Swimming was beautiful, flipping out in the rapids was incredible. The yuppies reminded me I'm in for a culture shock when I get home. And Eric told me something which summed up the choice of the christian nutter: "Jesus doesn't necessarily shield us from the consequences of radically following him. If we give our money away, we may have to miss meals. If we tell people the good news, we may get kicked out of school. If we go to the warzone, we may get killed. If we follow Jesus, Satan will attack us. He can mess us up. But we should still do these things. Because the reward of following Jesus is not his protection, his provision, or his gifts - though he gives us all three. The reward is Jesus himself."
So this morning I thanked Jesus that something I've been doing has made me worthy of having my bags taken. And I remember that the battle is never finished - Satan doesn't respect our holidays, when we think 'now my work is done and I can just go home'. And I remember I need to be weaned off my posessions anyway. And I realise that if Brian and Elspeth hadn't had their flight postponed a day, there would have been no money and no way to get home. And I thank God that Eric is best mates with the guy who gives passports and is just about to deliver mine. This isn't the way I wanted to get home, but God's still made it all okay. Africa strikes, but God Wins Again.
Tim
I stopped eye-sieving the dead ground at the side of the road and slashed, African-style, against a wall. I said out loud, "Jesus. I'm looking forward to how you're going to sort this out. You owe me an explanation."
I should be arriving home in Southampton right about now. But I'm not. I'm sitting in the corner of Eric's office, waiting for the phone call that will tell me my new passport is ready. We was robbed.
YESTERDAY I sent Dad a text, 'All done. Packed. Just left Emmanuel's. Brian & Elspeth taking me for lunch then airport. Very nice! See you tomorrow morning!' We walked out of the restaurant, over to the car, and Brian said, "The car's open." Then I looked at the boot -both rucksacks gone. Um...
The armed Guard pretends not to understand, changes his story, but won't tell us anything. The guy from inside who pretends to be the Manager won't get anything out of him; starts telling us how things are often taken from that car park. I interrupt him, 'saying that doesn't help anything, does it? I asked you how you can employ someone and not be able to trust them.'
It takes me half the drive on to the church to realise that not only my passport, books, journals, work notes, and photos have gone; but the copies of my passport and visa. My flight is at 19:50. I can't leave.
Get to the church and Eric rings. He works at the passport place. There's hope. "You need to get a police report. And two passport photos (Oh- those were in the rucksack as well). And 411,000 for a new passport. (Good grief) And if you come after 4, they will charge you for every hour you keep them - it's 3 now; postpone your flight and come tomorrow." I'm not going home. I want to go home. I'm stuck here. I hope Brian has enough money.
There's a lot of praying in the hope that the two bags will somehow appear. They are bright red and bright orange, after all. We go back and pick over the area before going to the police shed. At least that goes straight forward.
I'm slowly coming out of shock as we drive to Garden City for the photos. Getting used to the idea. Trying to see the positive side. Because I believe there must be one. "In all things he works for the good of those who love him", Elsepth remembers. My new passport photos look pretty good. We see a PINK PINEAPPLE in the car park. We have an affogato and watch the light shift over the city through christmas bunting, and it tastes good (I heave my suitcase up the stairs. Once bitten, twice shy. Could have done with a bit of OCD two hours ago). Someone tries to scam us (we think), and so we wrestle with the old question of giving once again. And Brian tells us how Richard has come up with a new acronym. You've heard of 'TIA', right (brew)? "This is Africa". Well how about 'AWA'? "Africa Wins Again".
SUNDAY
We didn't finish friday so we agreed to have our dress rehearsal after the service. No one brought their costumes. I rang Rose and she was at home - 'I'll be 30 minutes.' '30 minutes?' 'I'm in Bukasa'... Was she going to wait until I phoned? Turn round and discover Judith has gone home. I just told her not to leave. When they all finally arrive I actually tell them all off and make it a teaching point. 'When you're late you mess everyone else about', 'You must communicate with people', 'Dress rehearsal means exactly like performance'. Someone manages to completely ignore me directly asking them questions for 30 seconds, before I give up on the point of despair. I march across the room, bend my knees, and point both hands at the floor. Ssttaanndd hheerree!! I get Felix to lead the warm up. They must hate me. I make them all smile, like 5 year olds. The (non)dress rehearsal is a total drag. I go round Eric's for lunch an hour and a half late.
Guess what? Someone else came 45 minutes late for the warm up. I kept the MCs flapping for 10 minutes making sure the cast were as psyched as I could get them. And they did well... they just about kept going, through the worst series of technical problems I have ever seen.
I specifically arranged with the technical guys that we would use the two sockets on the back of the stage for our lights. We rehearsed the stage set up that afternoon, and rehearsed with the lights in place. But how could it be so easy for the technical guys to stick an extension lead in one socket and wreck everything? Here comes the key moment, where Jesus appears to Paul in a blinding light; where we flick the switch for the main lights off and the spotlight on... and we have complete darkness. 30 kids scream. They think it's a power cut. None of the actors knows what to do. The main lights come on again. Off again. On again. Every time a scream. Finally the spot appears, actors scrabbling round to their places. It looks beautiful. But then we're back to chaos. The mics bang, hum, crackle and fizz; random people tell other random people to go and fiddle the normal lights on; the actors muddle through. And then we have the spotlight switch again at the end. It goes just as badly; it looks just as beautiful. I clap them off as they applaud the wall instead of the sound desk (not deliberately), and there is a bare scatter of other applause. Africa Wins Again.
SATURDAY was great. I went to bed after midnight as we get caught in a great Denzel Washington film about a black university debating society in 30s America. Some scenes that made me feel quite ashamed as a white man in a black room. Reminded me again of the wonder, the power, the importance of story & drama. Why we do it.
Had a great time with Eric, and the waters of the Nile. It smells funny but it feels so good. Forget my perforated eardrum. Swimming was beautiful, flipping out in the rapids was incredible. The yuppies reminded me I'm in for a culture shock when I get home. And Eric told me something which summed up the choice of the christian nutter: "Jesus doesn't necessarily shield us from the consequences of radically following him. If we give our money away, we may have to miss meals. If we tell people the good news, we may get kicked out of school. If we go to the warzone, we may get killed. If we follow Jesus, Satan will attack us. He can mess us up. But we should still do these things. Because the reward of following Jesus is not his protection, his provision, or his gifts - though he gives us all three. The reward is Jesus himself."
So this morning I thanked Jesus that something I've been doing has made me worthy of having my bags taken. And I remember that the battle is never finished - Satan doesn't respect our holidays, when we think 'now my work is done and I can just go home'. And I remember I need to be weaned off my posessions anyway. And I realise that if Brian and Elspeth hadn't had their flight postponed a day, there would have been no money and no way to get home. And I thank God that Eric is best mates with the guy who gives passports and is just about to deliver mine. This isn't the way I wanted to get home, but God's still made it all okay. Africa strikes, but God Wins Again.
Tim
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Days 72-82: Snapshots from the race of life
22.11.09: DAY SEVENTY TWO.
God’s answer to yesterday’s email, this morning, in church: “Want to be radical? The answer is in me. The answer is me. The answer is to love me, to keep me no.1; in everything to consider my opinion, to decide to do what might most please me. Stop worrying about how your life looks to you; just engage with me.”
27.11.09: DAY SEVENTY SEVEN. 11am
The boys are playing football on the lawn in front of me. School’s out. And I’m off after a ‘serious’ (Ugandan English) week. Racing the dawn to rehearse the groups at the school, for performances at their final assemblies yesterday. Now I remember why I do this drama stuff. Goodbyes are great for finding out what people were actually thinking.
It’s life, so it hasn’t all been easy or delightful, but here’s a sprinkling of lovely moments:
-watching the four lads faces crack as we did the penguin song together (probably the most embarrassing action song ever created)
-Jacob introducing me at the Makerere CU, getting the whole chapel (including me) leaping around screaming ‘hallelujah’, and then leaving me to preach!
-chatting to Gloria in the slum as she draws nearer to Jesus. (You know you’re made for something when it energises you. 2 hours of serious questions and I bounced home!)
-a good long phonecall from home after a very trying rehearsal
-two full-sky rainbows
-listening to the God Story, scrubbing my undies in the twilight
…and of course the biggest adventure of the lot, trying to run the MTN Kampala Marathon (10k). Firstly, I now have so much respect for all you guys who keep asking me to sponsor you to run half marathons. That’s twice what I did last Saturday. That’s insane. Sure, I didn’t do proper training, the altitude has an effect, and Kampala is famously built on 7 HILLS… but basically, I didn’t make it.
Why would you put the biggest hill right at the end? I stopped and sat down was because I felt my head swimming; the old sign that I was passing out with dehydration. I begged water from some other runner and downed 3 sachets of ‘blackcurrant flavour’ sugar salt stuff, walked to the top of the hill and then hobble-jogged the last ‘k’ or so.
What made it actually a great experience was going with Isaac, Emma and Jude. Scrabbling together something to wear with 30 minutes ‘til the starting gun; stretching in the back of the pick up on the way down; trading stories at the end (Emma made the first 100, Jude stayed with him for the first 2k, then went ‘oh’, and mostly walked the rest).
And above all, I will remember Isaac running slowly with me, telling me stories, taking pictures, giving encouraging tips. He showed what he could have done by asking to sprint the last straight - ‘Of course’ – he practically boinged through the crowd. He came in the top 40 last year without training. And if he hadn’t run with me, I don’t know how I could have done it. It certainly would have been no fun at all. Thank you Isaac, and thank you Jesus! You know what I need.
9.17pm
Another great time with the Button family. Ended up watching Peter & Paul, an adaptation of the Bible book called Acts, starring Anthony Hopkins (amazing) as Paul. Fascinating. I’m getting well into this stuff. Really turns me on. Bible adaptation. Yeah. It’s point 2 on my ‘life goals’ after all. Also love Paul. What a legend. Bit of a hero. Another clue about who I am and want to be. The commission from Matthew 10 is my commission. To preach, minister, and plant. Just got to find the forum – my equivalent to the synagogue, the areopagus and the street. Then go change the world.
30.11.09: DAY EIGHTY.
Looking back, it’s hard to see what I’ve achieved out here. Okay, the evangelism adventures [2.12.09 – another guy gave himself to Jesus this lunchtime!] and clarification of my life direction are invaluable, but the drama work, while stretching, leaves me feeling a bit hollow. I can’t see what I’ve really achieved – we’ve produced some sloppy, uninspiring drama, and worked some kids hard. I’m not confident it will be continued – I’ve not managed to train group leaders. I’ve been enduring and serving faithfully, dutifully, rather than passionately leading people into growth and vision. I’ve been moulded by circumstances rather than on top of them – in reality and in my psychology. And the truth is, because most of the people in the word live by reacting to circumstances, the world makes room for proactive people.
I’ve also, I discover, missed the chance to get mentored by Pastor Milton. It sounds vaguely familiar an idea but he certainly hasn’t done it. I’ve mulled over stuff in these writings but not talked to anyone about them, so got no light/perspective/challenge. I think I’m hosting a spirit of independence, ‘I can do this myself’, that is stopping me humbly asking these mature people around me for help, wisdom, advice; to talk things through. Why? Not wanting to be a burden (that lie – God save me); and also no sense of ‘Help!’ I’ve just been doing my bit and then switching off. Heart not it. Mostly. That really sucks. Maybe this is an underlying root of negativity in my life, wider than just this trip. Help me Jesus. Save me from myself.
27.11.09: DAY SEVENTY SEVEN. 11am
Saturday made me realize why the New Testament often uses the image of running a race as a metaphor for life. It’s spot on. I remembered the Bible passage from my parents’ wedding: ‘Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him – a threefold cord is not quickly broken.’ (Ecclesiastes 4.9-12)
I had quite a ‘moment’ coming down the closing straight between flocked barriers, longing to see a loved one waiting for me beyond the finishing gate… and suddenly remembering that when I finish my race of life, I will see Jesus standing with open arms and two little words which somehow add up to far more than everything it cost to get there. ‘Well done. Well done.’
Final performance sunday night, still a long way to go. Please pray. Also safety when rafting saturday. And a good home straight.
Love and peace,Tim
God’s answer to yesterday’s email, this morning, in church: “Want to be radical? The answer is in me. The answer is me. The answer is to love me, to keep me no.1; in everything to consider my opinion, to decide to do what might most please me. Stop worrying about how your life looks to you; just engage with me.”
27.11.09: DAY SEVENTY SEVEN. 11am
The boys are playing football on the lawn in front of me. School’s out. And I’m off after a ‘serious’ (Ugandan English) week. Racing the dawn to rehearse the groups at the school, for performances at their final assemblies yesterday. Now I remember why I do this drama stuff. Goodbyes are great for finding out what people were actually thinking.
It’s life, so it hasn’t all been easy or delightful, but here’s a sprinkling of lovely moments:
-watching the four lads faces crack as we did the penguin song together (probably the most embarrassing action song ever created)
-Jacob introducing me at the Makerere CU, getting the whole chapel (including me) leaping around screaming ‘hallelujah’, and then leaving me to preach!
-chatting to Gloria in the slum as she draws nearer to Jesus. (You know you’re made for something when it energises you. 2 hours of serious questions and I bounced home!)
-a good long phonecall from home after a very trying rehearsal
-two full-sky rainbows
-listening to the God Story, scrubbing my undies in the twilight
…and of course the biggest adventure of the lot, trying to run the MTN Kampala Marathon (10k). Firstly, I now have so much respect for all you guys who keep asking me to sponsor you to run half marathons. That’s twice what I did last Saturday. That’s insane. Sure, I didn’t do proper training, the altitude has an effect, and Kampala is famously built on 7 HILLS… but basically, I didn’t make it.
Why would you put the biggest hill right at the end? I stopped and sat down was because I felt my head swimming; the old sign that I was passing out with dehydration. I begged water from some other runner and downed 3 sachets of ‘blackcurrant flavour’ sugar salt stuff, walked to the top of the hill and then hobble-jogged the last ‘k’ or so.
What made it actually a great experience was going with Isaac, Emma and Jude. Scrabbling together something to wear with 30 minutes ‘til the starting gun; stretching in the back of the pick up on the way down; trading stories at the end (Emma made the first 100, Jude stayed with him for the first 2k, then went ‘oh’, and mostly walked the rest).
And above all, I will remember Isaac running slowly with me, telling me stories, taking pictures, giving encouraging tips. He showed what he could have done by asking to sprint the last straight - ‘Of course’ – he practically boinged through the crowd. He came in the top 40 last year without training. And if he hadn’t run with me, I don’t know how I could have done it. It certainly would have been no fun at all. Thank you Isaac, and thank you Jesus! You know what I need.
9.17pm
Another great time with the Button family. Ended up watching Peter & Paul, an adaptation of the Bible book called Acts, starring Anthony Hopkins (amazing) as Paul. Fascinating. I’m getting well into this stuff. Really turns me on. Bible adaptation. Yeah. It’s point 2 on my ‘life goals’ after all. Also love Paul. What a legend. Bit of a hero. Another clue about who I am and want to be. The commission from Matthew 10 is my commission. To preach, minister, and plant. Just got to find the forum – my equivalent to the synagogue, the areopagus and the street. Then go change the world.
30.11.09: DAY EIGHTY.
Looking back, it’s hard to see what I’ve achieved out here. Okay, the evangelism adventures [2.12.09 – another guy gave himself to Jesus this lunchtime!] and clarification of my life direction are invaluable, but the drama work, while stretching, leaves me feeling a bit hollow. I can’t see what I’ve really achieved – we’ve produced some sloppy, uninspiring drama, and worked some kids hard. I’m not confident it will be continued – I’ve not managed to train group leaders. I’ve been enduring and serving faithfully, dutifully, rather than passionately leading people into growth and vision. I’ve been moulded by circumstances rather than on top of them – in reality and in my psychology. And the truth is, because most of the people in the word live by reacting to circumstances, the world makes room for proactive people.
I’ve also, I discover, missed the chance to get mentored by Pastor Milton. It sounds vaguely familiar an idea but he certainly hasn’t done it. I’ve mulled over stuff in these writings but not talked to anyone about them, so got no light/perspective/challenge. I think I’m hosting a spirit of independence, ‘I can do this myself’, that is stopping me humbly asking these mature people around me for help, wisdom, advice; to talk things through. Why? Not wanting to be a burden (that lie – God save me); and also no sense of ‘Help!’ I’ve just been doing my bit and then switching off. Heart not it. Mostly. That really sucks. Maybe this is an underlying root of negativity in my life, wider than just this trip. Help me Jesus. Save me from myself.
27.11.09: DAY SEVENTY SEVEN. 11am
Saturday made me realize why the New Testament often uses the image of running a race as a metaphor for life. It’s spot on. I remembered the Bible passage from my parents’ wedding: ‘Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him – a threefold cord is not quickly broken.’ (Ecclesiastes 4.9-12)
I had quite a ‘moment’ coming down the closing straight between flocked barriers, longing to see a loved one waiting for me beyond the finishing gate… and suddenly remembering that when I finish my race of life, I will see Jesus standing with open arms and two little words which somehow add up to far more than everything it cost to get there. ‘Well done. Well done.’
Final performance sunday night, still a long way to go. Please pray. Also safety when rafting saturday. And a good home straight.
Love and peace,Tim
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