A Day in the Life

So I was wrong. There's one more Adak Update! Today I made an unexpected trip to town, and as I sit here waiting for GPS data to transfer, I feel compelled to share yesterday's adventures - a more or less typical day for me in Adak...

7:30AM - I stumble out of bed in an exhausted stupor

8:00AM - I join Nate, Adam, and the construction workers under the mango tree for morning prayer. The topic of discussion? Whether people can drink blood from slaughtered livestock. Compelling and rich.

9:00AM - My interpreter, Alfred, arrives late with a flat tire on his bicycle

9:30AM - Alfred and I leave for the morning to conduct interviews

9:45AM - I ask Alfred about a beaten-up sign that I had passed many times before. What are all those holes from? He laughs. "Bullets, man!"

10:00AM - We locate the farm of a very rich man who once had (supposedly) over a thousand cows - cows which were all taken by the government and the rebels

10:10AM - We meet a health worker in a nearby village. He has surprisingly good English, and we talk for awhile

10:30AM - We come across a boy running along the road - couldn't be more than eight or nine, with bare feet. Alfred stops him. What's wrong? The child tells us that his father has been beating him too much, so he ran away that morning. He had gone 15km since daybreak, and he had another 20km to go before he reached his mother's home in Gulu town. We wish him good luck, and keep on riding. What else could we do?

10:45AM - We conduct our first interview of the morning with a small family of about 13. No mosquito nets, no bicycle, no clean water, no good income. Strengths...? 2 goats.

10:15AM - Another interview

10:45AM - Long ride on a dirt track deep into the bush. We visit the home of a member of our church - an elderly widow. Her daughter is lame, and their old wheelchair has fallen apart. Nevertheless, her family is better off than some. She has cows! Mabe! She asks for assistance for her daughter's wheelchair. I refuse, and try to explain how we plan to help the community. Feeling horrible, I finish the interview and start to leave. Wait, says my interpreter. She wants to give you gwana (Cassava). So we go to her garden and pull up about 40lbs of the roots and load them onto my bicycle. Oh, the generosity of the poor!

12:00PM - We head back to camp

12:30PM - We arrive, eat our cassava and beans, and take shelter in the shade from the relentless sun

2:30PM - One of our goats gives birth

3:00PM - Pastor Inancio arrives with another goat that Nate, Adam, and I had purchased for a celebration with the workers. I am given the honor of slaughtering it.

3:30PM - Alfred head out for our evening rounds

3:45PM - We conduct an interview with an elderly couple living way back in the bush. I notice that a mountain - a rare sight - lies on their land. The man offers to lead us up it. I eagerly accept.

4:30PM - On our way up the mountain, we pass a complex of four or five deserted buildings. I am shocked to see such modern constructions rising out of the bush. "Do you see the costs of war, Justin?" Alfred asks? He explains that before the war, this was a trading center where local farmers sold their tobacco crops. Now these huge, expensive buildings, complete with concrete walls and aluminum roofs, lie crumbling among the tall grasses, dotted with bullet-holes.

5:00PM - We summit the mountain (hill, more precisely). I am told that it is called Onina - the highest point within 15km, at least. The panorama is breathtaking. As I look around, trying to get my bearings, our guide tells us how the mountain was his refuge in days past. During the war, he would sleep high up on the rocks, watching the surrounding dark plains for the lights of approaching LRA. It enabled him to watch undetected as the rebels plundered and killed.

6:00PM - Alfred and I return to camp and help prepare the fire for the goat roast

8:00PM - Goat Feast!

9:00PM - Cleanup

10:00PM - Wolterstorff reading

10:0? - Bed

On Mt. Onina

The old tobacco complex

On the way to dig cassava

A Day in the Life

So I was wrong. There's one more Adak Update! Today I made an unexpected trip to town, and as I sit here waiting for GPS data to transfer, I feel compelled to share yesterday's adventures - a more or less typical day for me in Adak...

7:30AM - I stumble out of bed in an exhausted stupor

8:00AM - I join Nate, Adam, and the construction workers under the mango tree for morning prayer. The topic of discussion? Whether people can drink blood from slaughtered livestock. Compelling and rich.

9:00AM - My interpreter, Alfred, arrives late with a flat tire on his bicycle

9:30AM - Alfred and I leave for the morning to conduct interviews

9:45AM - I ask Alfred about a beaten-up sign that I had passed many times before. What are all those holes from? He laughs. "Bullets, man!"

10:00AM - We locate the farm of a very rich man who once had (supposedly) over a thousand cows - cows which were all taken by the government and the rebels

10:10AM - We meet a health worker in a nearby village. He has surprisingly good English, and we talk for awhile

10:30AM - We come across a boy running along the road - couldn't be more than eight or nine, with bare feet. Alfred stops him. What's wrong? The child tells us that his father has been beating him too much, so he ran away that morning. He had gone 15km since daybreak, and he had another 20km to go before he reached his mother's home in Gulu town. We wish him good luck, and keep on riding. What else could we do?

10:45AM - We conduct our first interview of the morning with a small family of about 13. No mosquito nets, no bicycle, no clean water, no good income. Strengths...? 2 goats.

10:15AM - Another interview

10:45AM - Long ride on a dirt track deep into the bush. We visit the home of a member of our church - an elderly widow. Her daughter is lame, and their old wheelchair has fallen apart. Nevertheless, her family is better off than some. She has cows! Mabe! She asks for assistance for her daughter's wheelchair. I refuse, and try to explain how we plan to help the community. Feeling horrible, I finish the interview and start to leave. Wait, says my interpreter. She wants to give you gwana (Cassava). So we go to her garden and pull up about 40lbs of the roots and load them onto my bicycle. Oh, the generosity of the poor!

12:00PM - We head back to camp

12:30PM - We arrive, eat our cassava and beans, and take shelter in the shade from the relentless sun

2:30PM - One of our goats gives birth

3:00PM - Pastor Inancio arrives with another goat that Nate, Adam, and I had purchased for a celebration with the workers. I am given the honor of slaughtering it.

3:30PM - Alfred head out for our evening rounds

3:45PM - We conduct an interview with an elderly couple living way back in the bush. I notice that a mountain - a rare sight - lies on their land. The man offers to lead us up it. I eagerly accept.

4:30PM - On our way up the mountain, we pass a complex of four or five deserted buildings. I am shocked to see such modern constructions rising out of the bush. "Do you see the costs of war, Justin?" Alfred asks? He explains that before the war, this was a trading center where local farmers sold their tobacco crops. Now these huge, expensive buildings, complete with concrete walls and aluminum roofs, lie crumbling among the tall grasses, dotted with bullet-holes.

5:00PM - We summit the mountain (hill, more precisely). I am told that it is called Onina - the highest point within 15km, at least. The panorama is breathtaking. As I look around, trying to get my bearings, our guide tells us how the mountain was his refuge in days past. During the war, he would sleep high up on the rocks, watching the surrounding dark plains for the lights of approaching LRA. It enabled him to watch undetected as the rebels plundered and killed.

6:00PM - Alfred and I return to camp and help prepare the fire for the goat roast

8:00PM - Goat Feast!

9:00PM - Cleanup

10:00PM - Wolterstorff reading

10:0? - Bed

On Mt. Onina

The old tobacco complex

On the way to dig cassava

Camp Adak, Signing Off

I have one week remaining in the village of Adak. Next Sunday, I will depart for a few days of debrief, then return to Kampala for wrap-up and the flight home. For all the joys of living here in the bush, I am surprised to say that I am starting to miss home. I miss my friends, my family, good conversations, college classes, and the woods and fields of my New Jersey home. I miss having the ability to hop into a car on a whim; I miss ice cream and pizza. I miss hunting, fishing, and camping with my parents. I even miss the wealth of resources and entertainment available on that great human marvel, the world wide web. I miss my dog.

Even so, I am not looking forward to my return. I am not looking forward to the shock of transition between two vastly different world systems - the village, and the American academy. I am not looking forward to the stresses, tensions, and responsibilities of the fast-paced American lifestyle. I am not looking forward to the moral ambiguity that surrounds so many choices and issues in political and intellectual life. I am not looking forward to worming my way through the temptations and snares of my culture.

After all, it is easy to seek justice when the horrors of injustice lie before your eyes... when the oppressed are cradled in your arms. It is easy to care for the poor when you live among them. It only becomes difficult when you confine yourself to a society that insulates itself again global poverty, that blinds itself to horrendous evils - a society that pretends Adak does not exist.

I return home to another three years at Cornell. What those years will bring, I cannot tell. They will certainly be challenging - and not just in the sense of academics. I am caught between my incessant need for intellectual stimulation and the nagging Christian calling of social justice. I am called to love God; I am called to love wisdom (philosophia) - which is, in a sense, God, theLogos - and I am called to love my neighbor. And I cannot choose between the two. Which book do I follow, Proverbs or the Epistle of James? Of course, I must follow both! But how? How does a student of philosophy and history pursue justice in the world? Some give money. Others work at homeless shelters. The Christian philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff wrote a book. How will I use my calling to pursue justice?

Quite simply, I don't know. But I will wait on the LORD.

Ps. 27:14

Likes and Dislikes

As my time in Adak draws to a close, I have begun reflecting on my time here - the things I have learned, the memories I have gained, the decisions I've made... and, of course, the new questions I have!

What is poverty?

What land is more impoverished - the USA or Acholiland?

Do we have free will? (haha, okay, that's not a new question)

How do we wage war against war?

How do we promote shalom in a world of sin?

And, what I like and dislike...

What I like about Adak:

Seeing a brilliant night sky unpolluted by manmade lights

Riding my bicycle along quaint country trails

Enjoying the hospitality of loving friends and neighbors

All the crazy insect life!

Watching small animals grow into big ones

Learning a new language

The beauty of a rising African sun

Experiencing a vast, green countryside

Riding boda-bodas

Worshiping in fellowship with fervent believers

Living in direct connection to the land

What I don't like:

Cassava

Tribalism

Helplessly watching the incessant spread of disease

The lack of art, education, and intellectual stimuli

Slavery to land, climate, family, ignorance, and suspicion

The bizarre lack of wildlife

What I like about the USA:

FREEDOM! The freedom to move about, the freedom to learn, the freedom to achieve, the freedom to create, the freedom to change!

Modern and accessible health care

Innumerable careers

Written history

Mastery over nature - technology, innovation, agriculture, resource management, machines

A government that offers services and promotes order with little corruption (in comparison to Uganda, that is - hehehe)

What I don't like:

Patriotism

Self-centered culture

Pharisee Christianity

Pollution

Separation from the land

Safe living - life without risks

Digital distractions

The overwhelming lack of brotherly love

From Despair, to Disinterest, to... Hope

How quick our are hearts to accept the evil of the world!

Contaminated water. Malaria. Domestic abuse. Post traumatic stress disorder. Theft. Orphans. Widows. Alcohol abuse. Every day, everywhere. Every homestead, every person feels these evils. Yet, I find it astonishing and horrifying that these evils slowly and stealthily thread their way through my consciousness, establishing themselves as normalcy. When one first confronts such suffering, the pain cuts deep - deep to the heart. You cry out against the wrongness, the corruption of that which should be. But as one presses on, further into the corruption, one begins to accept the status quo - no matter how bad it is. When your 37th interviewee complains about having no money to send children to school, you calmly note the problem in a logbook, say that you're sorry, explain why you can't help, and pray for them - a prayer that has been refined about 50 times, become cold and routine through repetition.

The first widow you meet tells of her struggles, and you are brought to tears... the 20th widow's story is a few points of data in a notebook.

It becomes easier to say 'no.'

But it shouldn't. It should never be easy to see the brokenness of the world and shrug your shoulders. We should never be numb to evil. The pain should be there - every single time. The only thing worse than despair is the unfeeling of indifference.

Wolterstorff writes, "Suffering is the shout of 'No' by one's whole existence to that over which one suffers... And sometimes, when the cry is intense, there emerges a radiance which elsewhere seldom appears: a glow of courage of love, of insight of selflessness, of faith. In that radiance we see best what humanity was meant to be."

How does one walk the line - the line between despair and acceptance? For the Christian, that line is the only option - Hope. Hope lies between despair and disinterest. Or, rather, Hope lies beyond despair and disinterest. On the Via Dolorosa.

Odds and Ends

My trusty African bicycle (complete with faulty brakes and loose wheels)

Somebody was here...

One of our chickens caught this. We think it's a Cecilian (snake-lizard)

A nest of Kalang, aka Soldier Ants, Safari Ants, Siafu Ants. An incredible (and menacing) sight when they are on the march! Painful sting, too.

Yup, that's right. We feed our puppy goat's milk... and remove the middleman.

The Scourge of War

This is the dead land

This is cactus land

Here the stone images

Are raised, here they receive

The supplication of a dead man’s hand

Under the twinkle of a fading star

- TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"

ahem

Okay, considering that my last post was a rather impassioned reflection on an incredibly full past few days, I figured that I ought to give a quick, objective explanation of exactly what it is that I'm doing here in the countryside of Adak.

Out of the hundreds of impoverished villages in Gulu district, Touch the World Uganda has, for one reason or another, settled in the village of Adak - making its home among the people it desires to serve. Here, we are constructing a health center (the only one around), a vocational school, and a well for clean water. However, we are still not fully in touch with the strengths and needs of this community. And how can we rebuild a war-torn village without working together with its inhabitants? Thus, TTWU has given me the task of LEARNING about the community and BUILDING RELATIONSHIPS with village dwellers.

For the first few days, I traveled around on bicycle - sometimes alone, sometimes with local guides - using a GPS (courtesy Adam Boe) to construct a rudimentary map of the bush surrounding the village. Now, I have partnered up with a local village leader, Alfred, to visit as many families as I can within 5km of Adak. These visits serve many purposes. Of course, they are the introductions necessary in partnering with locals. Additionally, we are using the visits to create a rough population survey of our area of ministry. Finally, we are conducting friendly, informal surveys to get a general idea of the assets of the community - livestock, skills, capital, land, cash crops, etc. In the future, we plan on working together to capitalize on these strengths to rebuild the area.

Right now, we are only focusing on the strengths of the villagers - for their whole lives, their weaknesses have been shoved in their faces by USAID, WFP, the UN, and even World Vision. The climb out of poverty to empowerment and liberation relies more upon the maximization of strengths than on the temporary alleviation of problems. Of course, we are noting their problems as well, but always with the mindset of using the blessings God has given them to fix them.

Where have you been, my blue-eyed son?

I write to you now as one who is exhausted. It seems I have lived a year since I wrote last.

The past two weeks have been perhaps the most stretching weeks in my entire life. Not necessarily the most “life-changing,” or “eye-opening” – but the most stretching. Physically, in the past ten days I have bicycled nearly two hundred kilometers around the small village of Adak – on trails that hardly deserve the name, small lines of dirt snaking through the long grass of the bush; through villages and compounds; across creeks and swamps; over enormous columns of marching safari ants; past huts, goats, and empty lands. It is impossible to summarize the experience – I can only give you glimpses.

I have seen enormous fields of rice and tobacco; I have seen children squirming in agony from preventable tetanus infection.

I have seen buildings steadily rising out of the bush; I have seen bullet-scarred homes disintegrate in the mud and rain.

I have seen the delighted grins of children coming to meet a visitor; I have seen the utter fear in children who had never before seen a white person.

I have met people who generously presented me with their best chickens; I have met people who pleaded with me for a pittance of money with which to buy alcohol.

I have gone days eating nothing but cassava and beans; I have stuffed myself on choice roast pork and goat.

I have praised the LORD for his awesome Creation; I have cried out angrily to God for the horrendous evils He allows.

I have partaken in the blessed fellowship of communal living; I have felt the bitter division of clashing beliefs.

I have enjoyed the challenge of learning a new language; I have been driven to anger over the frustrations of miscommunications.

I have heard joyful shouts of worship; I have heard the mournful wail of screaming children.

I have blessed Africa; I have cursed her.

I have bargained with a teenage interpreter. I have slaughtered a chicken. I have questioned a drunken village president. I have prayed over sick children. I have been pained from eating bad meat. I have cleaned latrines. I have ridden on a motorcycle with two other people, 50lbs of supplies, and a puppy.

I have been led through the countryside by a local pastor – countryside so beautiful and lush that one wonders how a war could ever have been fought there. That same pastor showed me the home where he was abducted by armed rebels; where he was allowed to rest with other child soldiers and slaves; where everyone but he was slaughtered in cold blood; where government soldiers would hide the bodies of villagers they killed; where the LRA would ambush cars along the road.

I met Denise, an HIV+ woman who struggles to care for 15 children – her own, her co-wife’s, and orphans – by herself, while her husband lives 23 kilometers away with the other wife.

I met Nancy, a child of about 8, who carries a festering, multiple-year-old burn upon her forehead – a burn which has been treated (poorly) and refuses to heal, a burn that may very well carry a death-sentence.

I have learned to say “no.”

In my travels through the bush, countless people have brought their problems to me in hopes that I, a mono, a powerful white American man, might solve them. They have asked me for mosquito nets, new wells, closer schools, medications, school fees, food, plant seeds, farm equipment, animal medicines, alcohol, clothing, shoes, agricultural training, jobs, tool repair.

I said no to every single one. I helped no one. And every single “no” was a pain in my side, just as it was in theirs. Every time I uttered the word, it drove the nails of despair deeper into my soul, deeper into my cross.

I turned away all requests with a lengthy and somewhat guilt-ridden explanation that help would eventually come. I had nothing to give but my time and my ears. And even if I were to give, it would not free them from their poverty – it would merely perpetuate the aid-addiction that cripples this region. For, though they saw me as a redeemer, I was and am not.

“Justice is far from us, and righteousness does not overtake us; we hope for light, but behold, darkness, for brightness, but we walk in gloom. We grope along the wall like blind men, we grope like those who have no eyes… All of us growl like bears, and moan sadly like doves; we hope for justice, but there is none, for salvation, but it is far from us.” – Isaiah 59:9-11

The whole business of mapping, counting, and surveying the land of Gulu becomes suddenly meaningless when the beauty of the place peels back to reveal the deep injustice and suffering that lies below.

I thank God and the TTWU GUTS team for reminding me of the lights in the darkness, the glimmers of a coming Kingdom.

I thank them for reminding me of Rose, an ancient widow who has nothing, but lives in utter joy, praising God perpetually, giving us – the richest people she had ever met – one of her few chickens.

I thank them for reminding me of the construction of the Touch the World Health Clinic, which steadily proceeds day by day.

I thank them for reminding me of all the individuals in Adak who are dedicated to rebuilding their homes.

And I thank God for his weakness, the weakness of Christ - which I now share - a weakness that will be revealed as glorious beyond all compare.

After all, the greatest of goods are always revealed in the greatest of suffering…

"Horrendous evils can be overcome only by the goodness of God" – Marilyn Adams

The Bicycle Rediscovered... among other things

Arghghgh!!!! Dear friends and family, I am so sorry that I have neglected updating you over the past few weeks. It might sound like a lame excuse, but, quite frankly, I have been extremely busy over the past few weeks.

Quite a lot has happened since the college team left back in June. Nate, my fellow intern and I have been teaching and leading discipleship groups at the orphanage (SMK) outside Kampala. While mentoring the children has been an incredibly rewarding experience, there are many frustrations inherent to our work at SMK. These kids, who have next to nothing in life, poor family environments, and little prospects for the future, are being further handicapped by a poor, meager education. SMK, like most Ugandan schools, teaches purely by means of rote memorization and repetition. Thus, the children study an overwhelming amount of facts, figures, and definitions - without understanding or comprehending their significance! Nate and I have been trying to remedy this mode of teaching with many direct questions and problem-solving exercises... but it is difficult to affect such change in such a short span of time. Teaching Social Studies has been especially interesting... and frustrating. The curriculum that I was assigned to teach deals with Ugandan ethnic groups - a touchy subject, to say the least! The children have very deep seated mistrust and prejudice towards other groups, and it can cause problems at school (which has a rather diverse student body). I can only pray that I was able to deconstruct some of the extensive stereotypes and jealousies.

About 2 weeks ago, Nate and I went on a weekend excursion to Rwanda to visit the Cyimbili Coffee plantation - which is partly supported by Jacksonville Chapel's "Hope for a Thousand Hills" ministry. What an incredible experience! When ever I get the time (and good internet connection) I will post some of the breathtaking pictures from the region - full of terraced hills, towering volcanoes, incredibly hazardous roads, and deep blue lakes! The coffee was great - the community was greater! [The buses, on the other hand, were not so great...]

As I write this, I am in an internet cafe in Gulu town, Northern Uganda. I will be staying up here in Gulu, living in the village of Adak, for another month. In a few days, Nate will be joining me, along with the TTW GUTS summer team. I am loving village life, and I am finally working on the project which I have so long anticipated - mapping and surveying the Adak countryside! Touring the countryside on bicycle, consulting with the many villagers I meet, I am using GPS to make a map of this "mapless" countryside. In the days to come, I will partner with translators and local friends to survey and interview the many households in the area... in the hope that their ideas and words might teach us how to rebuild the community together! More Details to follow!

1 Month in...

Greetings and Blessings to all my American friends! As hard as it is for me to believe, I have already been in Uganda for an entire month! I apologize for not writing sooner - things have been pretty busy here. For the past few weeks, I have been serving alongside a team of four college-aged individuals from NJ and PA. Living, laughing, and learning together, we strove to live out the Kingdom of God here in Uganda, all while asking how to live out the Kingdom in our everyday lives.

For the first two weeks, we worked at St. Mary-Kevin's Primary School and Orphanage, leading discipleship groups, teaching classes, tutoring, and building relationships with students. Some highlights for me included:

• being taught Luganda (a Ugandan language) by twelve-year-olds
• telling a group of students the story of Les Miserables - my favorite book!!
• giving kids a crash-course lesson in world geography
• teaching Bible Class, Social Studies, and English
• in true Ugandan fashion, eating an enormous live locust
• not getting an eye infection (there was an epidemic at the orphanage)
• playing football (soccer) with the boys - and contemplating the World Cup

Of course, there were plenty of challenges as well. A few members of the college team came down with illnesses. Teaching also proved to be quite difficult, as well. Ugandan schoolchildren are taught solely through rote memorization, so they do not have very sophisticated critical thinking skills. Thus, we had a hard time communicating abstract concepts (like future-tense verbs, sin, and time). Perhaps the most frustrating moment for me was when, at the end of a lesson on Creation and the Fall, I asked the students why sin entered the world, and one kid answered, "Jesus!" Still, progress is being made, and I look forward to more teaching in the weeks to come.

The last week with the College team was spent in the Northern Ugandan district of Gulu - a region that is just starting to recover from over two decades of civil war. We worked and stayed in the remote village of Adak - a former IDP (refugee) camp - where we aided in the construction of Touch the World's health clinic - the only medical provider within an hour's drive. Working alongside former child soldiers and victims of unspeakable horror was an incredible experience. Some highlights for me in Adak were:

• Living in huts!
• Helping to chop down a big tree
• listening to Acholi fables around the campfire
• helping slaughter and consume a delicious goat
• helping collect and devour delicious flying termites
• eating cassava and beans every single day...
• watching the incredible African sunrise every morning
  
• getting lost on the road and accidentally driving to Sudan
• chasing off packs of wild dogs
• listening to the World Cup with other villagers
• and more!

In a few weeks, I will be returning to Adak, where I'll stay for nearly a month, assisting other visiting teams, and conducting a poverty assessment survey in the surrounding African bush.

Today, the college team left us (sadly), and the internship "proper" has begun! For the next month, alongside my fellow intern Nate Dorka, I will be teaching in the orphanage by day, and studying missional living by night! Hopefully, I will be able to post more frequent updates in the near future - about my activities and the insights I am gaining.

Preparing for an Adventure (and, what's with the title?)

Greetings, friends and fam! Welcome to my new blog (which is the first I've ever made - hence the poor quality). As some of you know (and as many of you do not), last spring I had the incredible opportunity to take part in a two-week mission trip to Uganda with my high school (Eastern Christian) and the short-term missions organization Touch the World. That trip proved to be a momentous influence on my life, specifically in three ways. First, holding with the cliche that follows any short-term mission trip, my eyes were opened. I witnessed suffering and fear that I had never previously imagined possible. For the first time, I could identify with the psalmist: "How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever?" (Ps. 13:1). By observing and living with the victims of war and terror, I gained the valuable first-hand experience that no National Geographic can convey. Second, I was burdened with the guilt that pervades the First-World society of the West. I have never considered affluence a sin (nor do I now), but I now recognize that affluence in the face of human suffering is an injustice that is intolerable in the eyes of God (more on this later). For months after the trip, I felt the weight of this injustice bear down upon me, and I was quick to criticise the over-consumptive behavior and ignorance of myself and my companions (much to the chagrin of my friends!). For better or for worse, the feeling of guilt has faded over time, and it has become harder and harder to recall the suffering that once touched me so deeply. Yet, I take joy in the fact that the conviction remains. Finally, the trip instilled in me a passion for the weak which has continued on to this day.

It has been over a year since I returned from Uganda. Speaking to you now as a freshman studying philosophy and history at Cornell University, I can say that hardly a day has gone by that I haven't ruminated on my experiences in Africa. After a year of thinking deeply about what it really means to follow Christ - for everyone, and for me personally - I have decided to go back to Uganda for the summer (May 23 - August 18) to serve the underpriveleged of the world-system, with the hope that service, sustained thought, and meditation on the Word will enable me to better fulfill God's calling in my life.

I will be returning to Uganda as a "missions intern" under the guidance and tutelage of Jesse and Andrea Kroeze, the directors of Touch the World Uganda. Along with Jesse and Andrea, I will be working alongside other interns, Ugandan staff members, and short-term teams from the States. While the projects I will be working on have not been fully prepared yet, I do know that I will be working in two communities: Saint Mary-Kevins Orphanage in Kampala, and the village/IDP camp of Adak in the northern district of Gulu. Activities at the SMK orphanage my include teaching, construction, and evangelism. At Adak, where it appears I might be spending the majority of my summer, I may be involved with community development research and surveys in order to aid the village inhabitants in their recovery from the civil war that has devastated the region for decades. In due time, I will provide a fuller account of planned activities, as well as an introduction to these two communities and the issues they face.

As I prepare for this summer (which, astonishingly, is only about a month away!), I ask that you all might pray for me and the work that lies ahead. I will certainly be challenged physically, mentally, and spritually in everything I do in Uganda. Pray that God might use me to bring some tangible, beneficial change to the communities in which I serve. Pray that (as difficult as it may seem for me) I might exemplify the person of Christ in everything I do, living out the love of God. Pray that to those whose lives have known only darkness and death, I might be the vessel which brings the liberating light of Christ's sacrifice. Pray that - as weak, foolish, and unworthy as I am - God might shine through my life and actions; may there be "no more gloom for those who were in distress" (Is. 9:1).

For those of you who would like to help out financially (and have not done so already), I will shortly be providing info on how to do so.

FINALLY, regarding the wacky title! Mango trees are a prominent feature of the northern Ugandan landscape. An important food source and an indicator of settlement and wealth, mango trees are sometimes associated among the Acholi (a people of n. Uganda) with peace (Shalom) in the general, holistic sense - "piny maber" or "good surroundings." As we all look forward to the coming of the Kingdom, when swords will be made into plowshares, and warriors' boots will be thrown in the fire - we cannot ignore the continual act of redemption here on this earth. As God's agents of renewal, we must strive towards reforming the ways of the world into the ways of God. I don't mean that we strive towards a utopia; nor do I believe we can "bring in" the kingdom of God. But, in some sense, we must work on earth to set out the hors d'oeuvres of salvation - the crackers and caviar of the great Wedding Feast to come. We must all look forward to the time when the mango trees will grow heavy with ripe fruit, and although we cannot MAKE them bear fruit, we can nurture and nourish the trees, watching the blossoms grow...

In His Light and Truth,
Justin Tyvoll