“Amani Sasa.”
These Ugandan words flow so well off the tongue, even one as white and southern as mine. Simply interpreted, they mean “Peace Now.” Peace; not as the world gives, but that which comes from our Lord and those who represent Him. Now; not delayed or deferred, held back or hoped for. “Amani Sasa, Peace Now.” These are words meant to speak immediate hope to souls who have known so little and need it so desperately. They are the watchwords of a ministry that I am proud to say our people share in.
Uganda is a land of ambiguity. Majestic and miserable. Tragic and triumphant. Under-resourced yet resilient and resourceful. People of great sorrow and greater joy. It is also a place of refuge for those fleeing the war torn and famine ridden countries that border this East African nation that has known its share of both. Our friends ministering there share the hope and love of Christ to foreign folks whose very lives depend on it. It is a more than a ministry of mercy, it is one of empowerment and deep community. It is a redemptive, relational work that is squarely set against the ministry model of Christ himself. What a humbling and beautiful thing to behold.
It would take a book to begin to describe what we witnessed there. But let me share some of what stood out. I saw a group of young men, many running from the wars in their native land, banding together in a community of joyful dependence not seen in this land of plenty. I saw women whose lives were marred by the vilest of abuse at the hands of evil men who showed beauty and power that could not have been summoned from within their soul. I saw a settlement of refugees living on the barest of resources receiving medical care in the most meager settings, yet effectively delivered with dignity. I saw a home housing the most vulnerable women who were being cared for by those who had been there themselves. I saw English, life skills, music, and Christian faith being soaked up by hundreds of students at a time in a place aptly named “Refuge and Hope.” I saw a staff of highly functioning social workers, teachers, cooks, and administrators who had first lived out the same stories of the people they served. I saw a group of Christians worshiping loudly and joyfully in the slums of Kampala; some of the worst in the world. Amidst it all, I saw the permeating spirit of Amani Sasa. Against all odds, there was hope and hope now.
Paul talks a lot about the “Ministry of Reconciliation.” He meant giving your life putting back together the broken, misaligned things that God designed to be together in the first place. And doing it in the name, power, spirit, and hope of the Christ of Calvary. I’ve thought I’ve always given my life to that. I hope and suppose I have. But I have seldom if ever witnessed such a powerful reconciling ministry, led by our friends and mission partners, releasing the recipients of that grace to be sustaining shares of the same. It is Christian ministry at its best, and I am so proud to pastor a people who help it happen from halfway around the world.
Amani Sasa to us all, in the name of Christ,
Glen