Hope in a hopeless world

The Third World has the answer

I have recently returned from a two-week mission trip in Uganda, where my friends operate an orphanage and are starting to build a hospital.      Without television or reliable internet coverage, I had been immersed in the local Ugandan culture and I was feeling peaceful.

During the 30-hour journey back to California, I had several hours to catch up on the news.   The Olympic opening ceremony.   Riots in the UK.   Conspiracy theorists that claim, inconceivably, that Donald Trump arranged to be shot. 

I was horrified at the contrast.      I had left a joyous people, full of faith and love.   The plane was taking me back into a cauldron of hate, envy, and godless hedonism.   

Let me tell you a story about the kids at the orphanage.    My wife and I sponsor a girl named Gabi, who is now a bright five-year-old that hugs me with surprising strength from both arms and both legs.     Gabi was found in a bush in 2019.   She was lucky to be found, as she was too weak to cry out loud.      Gabi was about 8-10 months old but only weighed eight pounds when she was brought to the orphanage and we met her for the first time.      But with proper food, love, and prayer, Gabi gained about fifteen pounds in four months and today she is a healthy, sassy kid.    My wife DD and I decided to sponsor Gabi, paying for her care and someday, God willing, her university education.

Gabi gained 15 pounds in four months after coming to the orphanage.

When my wife and I visit, the four children that we sponsor latch on to us with superglue.    Most of the kids have American or European sponsors, but of course it’s rare for sponsors to visit in person.    Most of the kids have never seen their sponsor in the flesh.

This is where the story gets interesting.    DD and I took about 60 of the girls from the orphanage out for dinner one evening, and I was playing with the younger girls on some nearby swings and slides.     I was picking up each child and twirling around, knowing that they have no fathers to rough-house with them.    Eight or nine girls were lining up to have a turn.  When I picked up Gabi, she hugged me tight and just loved me so hard that I broke. I simply could not put her down.   And something extraordinary happened.

Gabi is a sassy girl with a big heart.

Gabi’s friends—the other orphans—saw us together, and instead of clamoring to be picked up, they smiled and moved back to give us more space.     No words were exchanged.   Nobody told these Ugandan children to ‘give us a moment’.     They were five and six years old, but they acted with the wisdom and grace of….   Grandmothers?   Saints?  

The juxtaposition of Ugandan and American culture hit me right between the eyes.      In our rich country, we fight over imaginary grievances and we are constantly battling for supremacy in the “victimhood Olympics”.    My friends in Uganda, who were orphans themselves in the ‘90s and ‘00s, never take the role of victims.  Instead, they launched a new orphanage to care for the younger ones, and they share their meager success with the poor people around them.

Here's another story:  DD and I also sponsor a young man named Musa who is now a strapping 14-year old.    He was abandoned by his father as a baby, as his mother died in childbirth.   We bought Musa a bicycle two years ago, thinking that it would be fun for him to ride.     I’m sure that it has been fun, but Musa’s primary use of the bike is to deliver food to an elderly blind man in the nearby village.    Musa has learned to stay with the old man while he eats, because the man’s children and grandchildren will come and steal the food from him if left alone.    The food comes from the orphanage farm, which provides the beans, cassava, potatoes, corn, milk, and occasional meat that the children need. Musa was proud to show me the reflector that he mounted on the back of his bike, because after waiting for the old man to eat, Musa has to ride home in the dark.

Musa skips ‘movie time’ to deliver food on his bike

This kind of unselfish dedication from a 12-to-14-year old boy is remarkable and would be national news in the States.     But at the Sonrise orphanage, it is hardly mentioned.   After all, the orphanage is constantly giving food, clean water, and medical care to their neighbors.   With their new computer lab, they are giving everyone lessons in using the computers (children and adults).   In Uganda, every Christian seems to be fruitful in this way. Musa’s contribution is not done for any reward.  It’s simply something that you do when you love your neighbor.

A hundred years ago, missionaries from Europe and the USA traveled to places like Africa to spread the Gospel.   They must have done a great job. I can tell you that in Uganda, the Christian faith is alive and well.   In fact, I hope that in time, young Ugandan missionaries will fly to San Francisco, to preach the Gospel to our lost civilization.