"Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good." Romans 12:21
I wish I could tell you this girl's story. I think it would break your heart as it does mine. However, even on this small platform, something in my spirit cannot bare to put her on display like that. I want to honor her, and I want to honor her privacy. Because I don't know the real story in all it's detail. God does. And I trust that He holds her. So instead I will tell you that she is brave. With incredible strength, and a quiet and gentle spirit that made my heart fall in love with her as though she were family. Her name means "grace". And that stills me.
Please pray for her. It warms me to think of the power of the saint's prayers covering her life. (Her name is pronounced kuh-sah-chay).
She would come to the gate with the other children nearly every day. Being the oldest among them I relied on Kisakye the most for help and translation. We'd roll out a mat and sit in the shade of the compound wall, a children's "Story Bible" open. (Sometimes Sam or his mother, Crickett, would join me, and periodically each of us would teach them alone. Crickett started this long ago and continues it now as she is able.) Spending time with this small group of village children was my favorite part of our regular ministry! When school was out, we could count on a knock on the gate. Dirty, smiling faces would greet you, the clay smudged across their cheeks and foreheads tattling that they'd laid on the ground to peek under the gate trying to see if we were around.
We would read to them and teach them about the Bible lesson. Next we'd play a learning game of some sort, often ones that utilize critical thinking. Then we'd pass out "biscuit's" ("cookies) and I liked to toss them a soft hand ball and let them run around in the yard. It is amazing how quickly they thought up new games! I particularly loved watching Kisakye's more sober demeanor light up as she cleverly invented rules and let loose to play.
I love to watch them play. In spite of hardships, the joy of being a child still somehow finds a way to shine through. It is a hard life for them. And yet God knew and knows exactly what He's doing. Let us not forget He is the Redeemer. He is good. He is in control. And drawing these little ones to Himself. I want to be a part of that.
It is a hard life for these people. I have been to the western region of Uganda before. ...Maybe I was young, maybe I just didn't see it, but it seemed very different. The level of poverty in the east, along the lake and near the boarder of Kenya is... unfathomable, really. Foreigners stop about three hours west in Jinja because to go beyond is... too uncomfortable. You or I could not enter in and survive it as they do. I think of malnourished little Hope Grace and all I can surmise is that if you are born into it from the beginning your body does what it must to survive.
I will say this: sin and brokenness touch every area. It's on every continent. Some places it is more visible than others. It is very visible in Nanjeho. About thirty minutes away is one of the worlds largest hubs for human trafficking. Food and work are scarce. Alcohol is a plague, gambling a scourge. Pedophilia is rampant. Sickness. Fatherless homes (or sometimes worse: fathers who are home), angry and hopeless mothers...
And opportunity for change is very difficult because culture is set in it's ways.
And all of our western mindsets have a difficult time with this.
And yet.
There is joy.
No place, no matter how dark, is too dark. Because darkness has no strength. It flees and is burned up by the light every single time.
(A distant photo of the children at our gate.)
I was overwhelmed for a time. The hand of the enemy there felt oppressive in a way I wasn't used to. The worst of it for me was hearing the parties. All day and all night... once the music starts you know it may last for days with no quiet. I remember one memorial especially: by day two, some of the locals explained to us what had gone on the night before and what would continue. The evil in the revelry that happens is enough to make you cry, and on and on the "celebration" goes and the music taunts you. I think of Lot in the Bible who was disturbed in his soul by the wickedness of the city. I lay awake crying, "Jesus what are we going to do? What are You going to do about this? Please make it stop. Please just stop this stupid music." I knew what the music meant. The innocence violated. The drinking, the children, the sensuality and abuse. And I thought I'd lose my mind as the loud noise kept the entire village awake.
But in my question, "Jesus what are You going to do?" I was really asking if He would do anything at all. It didn't seem like it. I turned to my Bible and read about Manasseh. He was one of Israel's most wicked kings. And yet, he cast aside his idols and their evil practices (similar to the revelry at the party next door!) and an impossibly wicked man turned to the Lord. He moved the Lord! He lead the entire nation. And his grandson Josiah? Brought reformation. It is an amazing story, a beautiful and powerful testimony that I'd like to study more. *(Interestingly, 2 Kings 21 does not mention this redemption. It is found in 2 Chronicles 33 linked here for you.)
It gave me hope! God had done it before!
But still my spirit grieved. And an unnamed fear knocked persistently at my door.
The nice thing about the middle of the night in Uganda is that even though I was alone on my side of the house, it was the middle of the day in the U.S. and I could talk to anyone I wanted any time. I was discouraged and battling fear when my mentor called me. I was in spiritual battle. So she prayed and battled for my heart, fiercely, encouraging me greatly.
And I don't know about you, but maybe you've heard that satan is the prince of this world. Yet Staci reminded me, "Sarah, the Bible says it is the righteous who shall inherit the earth. This is not his territory, it is yours. The enemy is just a squatter here. So while you're there do some damage. Take back what belongs to the Kingdom."
And I write this to remind you as well, Believer. Most of you are in the United States. We will take great losses, western church, if we forget we are in a battle. Be active. Put on your armor (Ephesians 6:10-20). Fight for our children, fight for your brothers and sisters in Christ. Pray against the enemy in your homeland and in foreign places, praise Jesus where you stand. And if the Lord sends you out in the harvest, say yes! But we are all called to the Gospel. And there is work to be done near and far.
It is less visible in the United States but very much there. And it is very visible... and very much there... in Nanjeho.
What will you do?
He Who is in me (and you, Believer) is greater than he who is in the world and I had forgotten it.
In the midst of the fight my mentor told me to read Psalm 18 as a battle prayer. "Remember every time it says 'because of my righteousness' that it is because Jesus is within us. It is His righteousness."
So I prayed.
Because Jesus is within me.
My spirit bolstered and the strength of my voice steadied as I declared Jesus to the dark room. Fear left entirely like the coward it is, and suddenly I realized there had never been anything to be afraid of. I worshiped and wept because I had an encounter with the love of our holy God.
I had had reoccurring nightmares since arriving in Uganda and they not only ceased: For the first time in my life I slept in utter peace.
The music stopped.
I woke up feeling on fire in the best way, wrapped in peace and light and surely the glow lasted half the morning. I was changed. Before I had been doing the trip with intentions and expectations that did not *actually *align with what God really had planned. They were fine enough in there own way I suppose -- I wanted to serve alongside Sam and see what God had in store in Africa. But I didn't have much for expectations and was just "going with the flow". Now I was empowered by Him to do what He was actually after. Passionately pursuing His Kingdom with purpose and power.
Oh and uh, you guys, He signed off this encounter by healing my jaw. For three weeks I couldn't open my mouth without pain. But in belief of Him I simply asked. He said yes and I tested my jaw frankly in disbelief. I kept opening it thinking surely the pain would come back. But in God's graciousness to me it never ever did. There are some things in my life He isn't healing, and I rejoice in those because He has purpose in it. And I rejoice that He has nonetheless brought healing to my jaw! He cares for us.
I wrote and titled this about Kisakye because she won my heart, and because this is her world. It is dark and full of hardship. But a great light shines in the darkness, my friends. And the darkness has not, and shall not, overcome it. The Gospel of Jesus Christ will not cease being spread.
Love, Sarah
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