Reading the Koran... in church

Among any number of things I never thought I’d ever do in life, one of them is reading the Koran.  In church.  Actually, it was in the cathedral, but that’s neither here nor there.  Let me explain.

Sunday, the cathedral hosted the Provincial Coordinator for Christian-Muslim Relations as the preacher, and rather than just giving him the sermon time, they gave him the majority of the service.  I thought this was absolutely fabulous.  I’ve heard him speak several times previously, and he is a gifted apologist, evangelist, and teacher.

I had been asked to read the lessons for the morning, so I was sitting up front.  When the Coordinator saw me, he asked me to come up front to read various passages from the Koran to show that he wasn’t just making up what he was saying.

Had I known he was coming, I would have brought a pen and paper to take copious notes. Unfortunately, I don’t remember all the finer points of what he said, though he gave an excellent example of when talking with a Muslim we need to discuss Scripture in context, rather than just answering about an isolated verse, as they are trained how to twist Scripture.

For example, Islam teaches that Mohammed is the counselor that Jesus promised in John 14:16 (the Muslim commentary teaches that the Christians accept paraclete to mean the Holy Spirit, when it is really a corrupted form of a Greek word that indicates Mohammed).  Since they are taking this verse out of context, we must read the verses before and after a verse to get it IN context; when we continue reading to John 14:17, it ways that “…he dwells with you and will be in you” (ESV).  Mohammed died of malaria; we know where he is buried.  Clearly, since Mohammed is dead, he cannot dwell with us and IN us, therefore, the passage is referring to the Holy Spirit.

In the Great Commission (Matthew 28:18-20), Jesus told us to go and make disciples of all nations.  Christians aren’t the only ones doing this; Islam is set to conquer the world.  Of the registered Islamic countries, half of them are in Africa.  Uganda is one of them, an ongoing “legacy” from Idi Amin.

From Meriam Ibrahim to Boko Haram to ISIS, I don’t think I need to explain that the threat is real, friends.  The church must be prepared, and the church must be teaching:  teaching how to share the Gospel, and teaching how to defend the Gospel from attacks. 

Barnabas Fund has excellent resources available to assist with this, and I commend them to you.  We use their Unveiled book in our classes, and it is an excellent introduction to what Islam teaches, how it contradicts Scripture, and how to share the Gospel with a Muslim.

Most of all, we must pray. We must pray that the Gospel indeed is preached in all the nations.  We must pray for hearts to love even those who would persecute us.  We must pray for the persecuted church. 

Trying to have fun

A friend introduced me to InterNations, an online expatriate group.  As much as I enjoy Mukono and the UCU community, I thought it would be good to try to make friends outside our little campus bubble.

In general, I’ve not been able to attend their mostly-monthly gatherings.  They tend to be on Thursday evenings, and we have Eucharist on Thursday evenings, and arriving in town at 8:00 just to turn around and leave at 9:30 or so (when I have to work the next day) isn’t really my idea of a good time.  I tried to attend the July function, but that was the night of the terror alert at Entebbe, and it took me an hour to get less than halfway to the event, and the radio was warning about checkpoints to get into the city, so I turned around and went home.

So, here’s proof that I’m trying to have fun.  I’m also trying to get my ThD off the ground, so perhaps the timing isn’t the best.

Of course, the first question that we all asked, after ascertaining names, is “what brings you to Uganda?”  Many are working with NGOs, doing noble work like studying how to prevent malaria in children, or working with refugees.  My answer is that I lecture at a university.  This leads to an inquiry as to whether I lecture at Makerere (the largest school in the country, based in Kampala), and what do I lecture.  When the answer to that question is theology, some people didn’t have a clue how to handle that little tidbit of information. 

I know I live in a Christian bubble:  I work with clergy and ordinands, and generally socialize with Christians who live on campus.  I have a fairly sheltered existence.  It’s one thing to know this, and another to essentially be slapped in the face with it.  Am I so sheltered that I don’t know how to deal or relate with a group of people who are predominantly non-Christian?  I fervently hope not.

I’m glad I attended the event, and will probably attend events in the future, as I’m able.  As an introvert, I rank mixers right up there with waterboarding in terms of things I enjoy doing.  However, I did meet some nice people, and for that, I am grateful.

Auntie privileges

In Africa, it’s common for nearly every woman to be an auntie, because of the emphasis on community, rather than individuality.  I’ve been called aunt or auntie by any number of people, to include children, and even one or two of my students.

One of an auntie’s duties is to be the first to meet the young man that a girl may bring home, and you generally only bring home someone whom you intend to marry.  The aunties wield quite a lot of power in the family; not only do they first meet the beloved intended, they also set the calendar and timeline for the introduction and wedding.  Then the parents are informed.

Esther is a dear friend who dates back to my student days, and she is a delight.  When she received a proposal that she was one, willing to consider (because she had had several, and most weren't worth considering), and two, willing to accept, she told me, which is a great honor.  

Then she told me she wanted me to meet him first.  Before the real aunties.  While this is a great privilege, this gave me no small amount of angst; what do I know about interviewing a prospective groom in Africa?

I asked Olivia, the former dean, what I needed to do in this interview, and she was as nonchalant as I was frantic:  “Oh, you just ask him what his intentions are, make sure he’s acceptable.”  Ah.  That solves it.  Ha!

So, when Esther brought her intended around, I had been in my collar, and decided to remain so dressed to up the intimidation factor.  Yes, I am that mean.  

The conversation went well; his intentions are indeed to marry Esther (and they want me to officiate the wedding!).  We had a lot to discuss, as they are from different tribes, she is ordained and he is not.  The tribal issues can be important, though neither he nor his family have a problem with it.

Though I was filling the role of an auntie, Esther is really more of a sister to me, so in conclusion, I told him that if he hurt her, I’d come after him.  He laughed, and I assured him that was no idle threat.  Then I think he took me seriously, which was my intent.

Having The Crud

The Crud finally caught up with me: fever, wicked sore throat, tenor voice, cough, sneezing. It's just fabulous. I've been worn down the last couple weeks, and I assumed that all the sleep I've been getting had warded it off. You know the axiom about assuming...

So this morning, I dragged myself to class, but not chapel, so I could finish my lecture and prepare the students for the exam. The three minute downhill walk about did me in, so I'm going to skip the lecture part. 

I intentionally arrived early so I could catch my breath before finding a way to speak loud enough for 42 people to hear me over the construction next door, and one of the students was already in the room (meaning he wasn't in chapel either). 

He saw me, and a huge smile broke out on his face as he said, "Thank God! We heard you were sick, and we've been praying for you."

That absolutely warmed my heart. My students are fabulous. 

I'm tired (and whiny)

I have a couple other posts-in-writing to finish, but a friend reminded me of Mark 6:31 ("And he said to them, "Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while."), and I've read a some of the "ten things a missionary won't tell you"-type articles, that note that we don't ride unicorns and live under rainbows (we're far from perfect).  So, in light of that:

I'm tired.

It's mid-July, and the semester can't end fast enough.  Because we have two retreats between the January and April semesters, we really only get just under a week to rest between semesters, and I was sick this year.  I am generally done about this time of year, but this year, I'm ready to run to Mabira Forest and not come back for at least a month.

I'm tired of marking.  I'm tired of student questions and issues.  I'm tired of always being the tutor on duty in chapel (I'd like to actually worship for once without having to supervise).  I'm tired of reminding staff that they are on duty, and I'm tired of going to chapel and finding that the tutor is not there.  

I'm tired of having work dumped on me.  This week is the second iteration of the Uganda Academy of Homiletics, and I really couldn't tell you too much about it, because I ended up doing a bunch of things I was never informed about, and the hits keep coming.

I'm tired of being an introvert in an extrovert continent.  Introverts are in the minority anyhow, but living in a culture that emphasizes community only exacerbates the differences.  I'm tired of explaining that I'm tired (which sometimes, is the only acceptable excuse to get out of yet another perceived obligation).

As we say, "I'll be fine."  And I will.  I just need it to be the end of August.  Because right after exams (and marking) end, the Provincial Assembly is coming, and I'll want to attend much of it.  Then I can run away.  Hopefully.

They're actually listening; who knew?

Last week in Biblical Interpretation, we were discussing literary devices (parallelism, similes, metaphors, allegories, etc.), and this week we spent what seemed to me to be an inordinate amount of time discussing the basics of a plot.  At one point, I hid my face with my book and exclaimed, “You guys are KILLING me!”

To which someone deadpanned, “Reverend, that’s hyperbole.”

True enough, and it was good comic relief.  I thought, “Wow.  They actually do listen!”

One reason I love teaching Biblical Interpretation is that you have to understand what the author wrote to the original audience (exegesis) before you can apply it (hermeneutics), and so many sermons take a text and jump right to the application, and the results are less than helpful.

After class, one of the students approached me and said that he’s realized that he has been approaching his sermons the wrong way, and he’s rethinking how he approaches Scripture.  Several students have told me this, actually, which is a tremendous blessing.  One of the students from last year still sends me sermons to review, and while part of me is frustrated because I already have a stack of assignments to mark that are THIS HIGH, and he has a supervisor whose job is to do this, I really am honored that he trusts me enough to give him honest feedback.

THIS is what I cling to when I’m tired of being the unrequested substitute tutor in chapel, tired of the dirt/dust, tired of mosquitoes, tired of going to Kampala to get brown (wheat) bread, tired of being far from my people, and just tired.  My students, and the opportunity I have to have a lasting impact on their ministries, are worth the being tired.

How to make my students laugh

Two of the rooms in which I have lectures are about 25 yards from the construction of a new lecture block.  While I'm thrilled that the construction is moving on well, it's rather hard to project your voice to 40 students while a cement mixer is churning away.

I took the opportunity to remind my students to use their teacher/parent/preaching voices when reading lessons in chapel, as I could barely hear the reader this morning.  One student spoke up and requested that we request the chaplaincy to purchase a PA system for the chapel.  I countered that we should all master the skill of projecting our voices, because we can't tell the congregation, "oh, I'm sorry, there's no power, so I can't preach."

The same student then said that he thought that one of his classmates, who has a rather soft voice, would be able to project well either when his time comes to serve in the chapel.  The class laughed, and I felt so bad for him.  So I talked in my regular voice, to point out that they couldn't hear me at my normal volume.

Then I had to bring out the teacher voice to point out that naturally, I am rather quiet.  This brought the laughter.  Apparently, not one of those 40 people believes me!  They honestly don't think that my natural tendency is to be quiet.  They don't believe me when I tell them I'm an introvert.  

Keeping 40 adult students on track when there' s a cultural divide takes quite a bit of energy, and when I leave them, I'm quite tired.  I still maintain that I'd rather be quiet, not matter how much that makes them laugh.