I am sitting in a pastor’s training in a remote place in Western Uganda, over 9,000 miles from my home and a million miles away from the civilization you know where you are. The men and women listening to me teach are living in mud huts, they pastor small churches in buildings you would not put your pet in. They have no TV, no kitchens in which to cook their meals, merely bending over what you call a hibachi trying to cook some rice or bananas (yes, fried bananas).
I have heard no world news in 6 days, so I guess the Lord has not come and left me and my African friends behind! Life seems to go on here as it has for centuries.
It has been raining here for a muddy, slippery week. The roads to our conference site are almost non existent. We praise God when the rain stops and the sun peeks its head out.
Each day, our conference welcomes in those whose clothes are soaked, shoes are muddy, and yet their spirits are high. If I were in America, no one would come out. It would be me and the janitor, and he would not be happy being there.
I am being called to teach again, so bye bye for now. I covet prayers from those who love us.
Kwaheri! (Goodbye)
