Born Again

Today is Sunday, so it is church day in rural Uganda. Only the children from Moses' family went, though-- the two girls put on their nicest dresses and got their family bible, and the two of them, Sophie, the other volunteer, the four year old boy, Danny, and I trudged down the road to the church. On the way we passed several other churches, and the singing and clapping and drumming could be heard from quite a distance away. When we got to our "church", I saw that it was actually just a shelter, a bunch of sticks in the ground with slabs of wood slapped over them and a crude tin roof overhead. We sat down on the wooden benches, and the preacher was delighted to see two mzungu attending his service. He called on me to read... so there I was, on the second day of Rosh Hashanah, reading from the book of James in what they call a "Born Again" church in a Ugandan village. It was a nice passage, and I actually thought the message was universal, so somehow I felt quite at home. Then the people in attendance got up and gave testimonials in Lusoga. The man next to us translated for us... it turns out everyone who got up was talking about how blessed they felt that God has brought visitors to their church. I definitely felt like an imposter. Then the pastor asked us if we wanted to give a testimonial. It was clear that "no" was the absolute wrong answer. So, I got up and just thanked them for having us and talked about how blessed I felt to be able to worship with them. It went over quite well. The best part came next-- the singing and dancing. There were three boys with drums in the corner of the church, and they banged along to the songs. I obviously had no idea what we were singing because everything was in Lusoga, but I picked it up and had a fabulous time, and I think they appreciated the effort and enthusiasm.