In the 84 hours we’ve been back in Uganda, I’ve personally had quite the experience getting back into a different way of thinking and transacting business. My stories from the last few days could fill a small book and I could probably publish a study on the terrible ways cultures collide inside of daily life. But by far the most thought provoking event occurred early on Thursday afternoon in a small suburb of Kampala called Kawaala Kataka.
Hannington, my outboard engine mechanic, had called the night before, urging me to meet with the man who supposedly wants to purchase our broken boat. Glad to have the opportunity to rid my driveway of a hunk of fiberglass and liquidate thousands of dollars at the same time, I agreed to meet the man at 11am. As I rushed out the door the next morning in an attempt to make the 45 minute drive and arrive promptly, I found that our beloved LandCruiser wouldn’t turn over, once again the victim of fouled heater plugs and an inconsistently charged battery.
Soon after the rest of the household pushed me out the gate, I arrived to the agreed upon area and phoned Hannington for final directions. But because of language/understanding barrier, he was unable to say more than “go a little further…go down…it’s just near…” and I ended up sitting on the side of the road for the good part of an hour, waiting for him to find me on foot. When he eventually did, we had forfeited our big man (who happens to be the former Major General of the Ugandan army) to an important meeting, and went to visit Hannington’s sick cousin-brother in a mud/brick home nearby while we waited yet again.
Winding through dirty alleyways full of half-clothed children, waste water, and occasional small animals, we dead-ended at a small row of rooms bordered by a high brick wall not three feet from the front doors. Hannington went to find his brother in one of the tiny homes, while shouting towards an open door to a neighbor lady he described as a “real believer.” The brother was away, but we requested this kind lady to come out so we could “have a prayer.” After some coaxing past her timidity over not comprehending any English, I reassured her in the Luganda language that we could have a conversation, and she came out to talk.
We exchanged the familiar greetings in her native dialect, and she made some comment that Jesus is so good to send a “white” who would greet her in her mother tongue. I asked her after a bit, Osaba wa? (where do you attend church services?), and her reply startled me as she had the local testimony of a “real believer.” She called Samuel Kakande her pastor, and she prays from The Synagogue Church of all Nations, a local congregation known by all the Born Again churches of Uganda to be a cult, following false teachings and idolatrous practices propagated by it’s founding leader. I’ve seen declarations on the back of taxis that proclaim, “Jesus of The Synagogue Works!” and after learning of this dangerous movement, I’ve been tempted to craft my own: “Jesus of the Synagogue is a Demon!”
I had read in Jeremiah 23 that very morning, where the true seer is declaring the word of the Lord in the face of false prophets broadcasting peace and prosperity at a time when the nation needed judgement for its wickedness and unrepentant heart towards God. The phrase that leaped from the page to my spirit was in verse 28: “…What is the chaff to the wheat?…” I had considered all the false teachers and their throngs present in this relatively small nation, and a confidence rose inside of me. We have the real thing! This worthless “gospel” that has prevailed upon the people for decades has no bearing on the Truth preached by humble, submitted servants of the Consuming Fire. Lying signs and wonders cannot stand up to the reality of the Living Bread that comes down from heaven! God’s Word truly is a fire and a hammer that breaks the rocks in pieces.
Because of time and linguistic hinderances (lack of a solid interpreter), I prayed a simple prayer over this sincere and deceived woman. I lifted my voice to the Father of her spirit that He would guard her against deception and false beliefs, drawing her to the Truth. We departed to find our general, with a renewed passion to preach Jesus crucified and risen again. With a zeal for the House of God and His Truth that makes men free, we will see this nation changed.