(A brief explanation in terms: Pastor Johnson is the Ugandan pastor who was my sole contact in Lira, Uganda, when I first arrived. We are not related except that we have the same Father. Alpha is the name of the hotel/guest house where I stayed during my two weeks in Lira, and it is run by Pastor Johnson and his family. Victory Outreach Church [aka VOC] is a large church in Lira, of which Pastor Johnson is one of five pastors.)
Meet Washington:
And Pat:These two men are a large part of the reason my journey to Lira included more than me sitting in my room all day, wondering why I was there. They were God’s answer to a prayer I didn’t know how to pray. My side went something like this: “So, God, I’m up here in northern Uganda where I don’t know anyone, and no one’s really been waiting for me to come, and I’ve got no schedule and no organization in charge of me . . . So, what am I supposed to be doing again?”
God’s answer went like this: I was walking down the noisy, red-dirt streets of downtown Lira. Population 119,323 (from Google). I was trying not to get run over by any of the motorcycles, fall into the open sewer systems, trip into pedestrians, or knock over any small businesses on the side of the road.
Needless to say, I was a bit preoccupied.
The boda (Ugandan for motorcycle; remember this word as I probably won’t explain it again.) was stalled in front of me, and its two occupants were yelling my name before I even realized they were there.
How did two strange Ugandans get to know my name? I didn’t know being white made me that big of a celebrity. Then I made out what they were saying. “Rebecca! We have a meeting with you at 2:30. We will be at Alpha. Meet us there!” And then they were gone.
Hm.
I’ve had strange men stop on the side of the road and ask me to go out with them before (see this post if you’d like to know the details), but never this!
At 2:30 I was faithfully sitting at Alpha, wondering if my two random friends/complete strangers would show.
They did.
The three of us sat down at a table under the shade of a tree, and I met Pat and Washington, VOC delegates sent to welcome this strange white woman who had come all by herself and didn’t seem to know what she was doing.
I love how they started the meeting. Pat tried to ask some questions: “Pastor Johnson says you are here in Lira for two weeks. We want to know what your schedule looks like, what you are expecting to do. We want to hear why you -”
Washington waved a hand. “No, no,” he said. “First, we pray.”
I didn’t know that with that simple introduction, God had just knocked the hinges off every closed door I didn’t know how to open.
