When Jesus sent his disciples out to serve, he always seemed to round them all up afterwards to learn from their experiences. It seems that the line between serving others and personal growth is blurry, and should exist in something of a symbiotic relationship. So what have I been learning in Africa? Well, I think I have more questions than before arriving, but here are a few thoughts.

RACISM:
I imagine our typical summer home of Mapleton, Maine. This small farming town in northern Maine is predominantly Caucasian, with a significant Micmac minority. Suppose an African American family came to Mapleton. Suppose the guys at the gas station called out, "Black people! Black people!" When the family walked down the street. Suppose the families at the park called out, "Hello Black people" as they passed by. What if the children ran up to feel their hair and their parents allowed, even encouraged it. What if they were told, "Your hair is like sheep's hair" or "you must love basketball". Would that be racism?

The answer seems like it should be a resounding 'yes'. Yet the converse of all these things has happened to us in our few weeks in Uganda. The Lugandan word for white people is Muzungu. When we walk through the neighborhood outside our gate or when we've gone to outlying villages, we hear this constantly, yet never has it been said in a threatening or degrading way. The people want to meet us and welcome us, and I suppose go home at night and tell the family that they shook hands or high fived with a real, honest to God Muzungu.

The people here-usually just the kids- love feeling our hair, and many times kids will come up to us and do so while their parents watch with no indication that this could be improper. Although we have never been told this, our neighbors from Houston have been told their hair is like goat's hair. The fact is, I've seen the goats on the Agape farm, and it's kind of accurate. If it wasn't for the five white people living in these guest houses, the only time the folks in the surrounding homes would see hair like this would be on the goats. Our hair is, after all, much longer than cow's hair.

The other day I spoke briefly with one of the guys on staff at Agape, and he said something like, "You must like American football." While I liked to catch a high school game when I was a teen, I'm not a huge fan, but it did allow our conversation to come around to some common ground when we discovered we both enjoy basketball.

I have never once felt a victim of racism here. Perhaps some of it we bring upon ourselves, because we are the crazy family that walks through the slum juggling for the kids and adults running the little shops. But in the end, like so much else, racism is more an issue of the heart than the actions. Perhaps in the isolated white towns of northern New England, comparable things would still be racist. After all, even as isolated as it gets up there, most people have TV and the internet and have seen diversity in that context. Also, the schools in rural Maine teach black history every February, and we've had an African American President. Yet I really think the curiosity we are encountering here is also normal, and -perhaps because we are educators- we see these interactions as teachable moments rather than opportunity for offense.

MINISTRY:
I've addressed this a few times in prior blogs: ministering to orphans is HARD. Yet James tells us: "True religion is this: care for widows and orphans in their distress, and keep your heart unstained by the world." Don't get me wrong, by and large we love our mornings at Agape. We're learning the kids personality traits, and we all bring something different to the table. Rose is the cool young aunt, who learned all the names and personalities first, and doesn't get flustered by the commotion. Sue is the quintessential teacher. She brings board books over to read to the kids and today was teaching one of the oldest girls to write her letters. But she is also "Momma Sue" and is quick to hold the babies.

Me? I'm the goofy Dad. I let kids walk up me and do flips, throw them in the air and catch them, pretend to have conversations when they clearly don't know what I'm saying and blow raspberries on their cheeks. But truth be told, sometimes it is overwhelming. If you've ever raised kids, remember two and three years of age? Imagine 30 kids that age. This is not my niche. When I was principal of a school for 13 years, I dreaded going into the preschool room. But it is okay, even good, to do ministry that is not our specialty if the opportunity presents itself. The person who hates to speak in public may at some time be the right person to tell their story in church. The guy who's not very handy may have a chance to help with church repairs, even if all they can do is carry boards from point A to point B. (Trust me, I'm that guy.)

But the times I've shined here have been, no surprise, the times we've done shows, whether in schools or the street. No doubt there are times when having such a performance based ministry has fed my ego as much as it has honored God. But I've come to realize while here that God has given me a unique ministry that I've worked hard at for decades. I should not feel that it is second rate compared to the direct service ministries, such as orphanage work. I should be most happy doing what I am called to do and what I do best.

Yesterday I realized that many times when people have come to here they have taken on a project for Agape: painting, plumbing, construction... I have little to offer along these lines here or at home. Even with painting, we would have to provide the paint, and our funds are tight on this trip. We have, it seems, no specific project while we're here. But I remembered Joseph's answer to my question when we first arrived. The benefit of having people come over instead of just sending money is that we can tell the story. That is our project here. That is something I'm good at. I teach, perform, write, and have even been called on to preach occasionally. We can tell the story. We can get individuals and churches at home to get on board with what God is doing in Uganda.

That is enough.

GOD:
It would be easy to see such squalor as exists in the slums here, and the poverty of the outlying villages and assume there is no God. The easy- dare I say lazy- conclusion to seeing kids playing around open sewage, beggars on the street, 300 malaria deaths a day and a country ravaged by HIV-AIDS is that God is dead. Seeing Beautiful children born with AIDS or left to die in the street or thrown in a latrine can almost logically lead to the conclusion that, if God exists at all, he no longer cares or interacts with His creation.

But that's the easy way. I have come to two conclusions this month: I am more certain than ever of Gods existence, and I see just how little I really understand Him. In my 20s, God was tied up tightly in a nice little box of theology. I had all the answers about a life I had not yet really begun to live. I'm not saying God is unknowable, and I state unequivocally that studying scripture is an extremely valuable and honorable pursuit. But God is so big, so mysterious, so untamable (to quote Chris Tomlin ) that I must admit the more I experience Him, the more I realize there is about which I am clueless.

And our time here points me more and more to Faith in God. There is little hope for many of the people we meet here if God is not on the throne of His universe. And where does hope even come from in the first place? Hope is not an emotion but rather a way of thinking. Hope itself is from God. Hope is when Simon, our gatekeeper, talks about having a farm some day even though his boss hasn't paid him since May and he lives in a single room. Hope is Joseph and David's mother, raising two boys in her remote jungle home -so poor she could only buy one pencil and break it in half so both boys could go to school on the same day- insisting they get educated. Hope is Joseph rescuing an abandoned autistic boy left in the street to die, and seeking to get him in a special school. And this hope is from God.

Furthermore, it is only the people of faith, with all our imperfections, yes, who are making a difference here. This is a country that has been ravaged by Idi Amin, Joseph Cony, AIDS, and poverty. And as we drive, whether in city or country, every hospital and clinic, and the vast majority of schools are Evangelical, Catholic or Muslim. ( I know some of my readers will take issue with this last sentence. I assure all of you on apostate-watch, I am not equating Christianity with Islam. I know they are literally mutually exclusive, starting with the single most important theological point of all:the resurrection. This is not some some pie in the sky ecumenical point I'm making here. Please read on.) Every clinic, hospital and virtually all schools are clearly identified with faith. While I will stop short of saying nothing else but true belief in a personal God would motivate people to sacrifice so much to help millions of forgotten people, I will point out that we have yet to see any works being done here in the name of, for example, the new atheist movement. There were no schools or hospitals here sponsored by, say, Bill Nye or Richard Dawkins. And even though We drove by a United Nations office, their presence with the actual people we're meeting here is nil.

But God is at work here in Uganda. And he is using his people to do it.