This heart

“The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.” ~ Psalms 145:8

Although I have left my family, my friends, and the majority of my worldly possessions behind in Canada, I have been unable to leave behind the numerous wounds my heart still endures. My challenge therefore has been to allow them to come to the surface so that God can heal them, while not letting them jeopardize my current internship and ministry. But, in his kind way, God has shown me that this healing process is part of my life right now; it’s just being played out on an African stage. And he has been working! It is hard to even put into words the grace he has bestowed on me; my tears have been ones of sorrow, but also joy. Praise be to his Name! Guilt and shame have been denied stay, thus leaving more room for the affection of my Lord. May the weariness that my heart feels this day be drowned out by the joyful melodies of my spirit. Amen.

A police "welcome" in Jinja

“So sorry. We didn’t know. There were no signs. You need to put up signs.” – Me to the police.

Luke and I ventured into Jinja on Monday, leaving Kampala early in the morning. After about an hour and a half in the cramped taxi, we reached the outskirts of Jinja. Not having our bearing about us yet, we accidently crossed to the other side of the dam, actually needing to be on the Western side. Stopping the taxi, the driver continued on leaving us to walk back across the bridge. We weren’t worried about the extra walk; Luke wanted to take a few pictures of the birds in the water anyway. Pelicans and other water foul were enjoying the morning sun, and even I gave in to the temptation to take a few photos. But, we were so caught up in our photo-taking that we didn’t notice the gentleman in army fatigues approach. He sure didn’t look happy…

Despite the limited amount of Luganda we knew, and his limited amount of English, it was not hard to realize that we had done something wrong. He eyed Luke’s camera with undisguised interest, and I quickly stowed mine away. It seemed as though he wanted a payment of sorts, and I’m sure he would have gladly taken Luke’s camera off his hands. I told him I would not give him any money but that we would go with him as he was strongly suggesting. Nevermind his brusqueness, the gun at his side was enough to convince us to obey.

Was I afraid? Not really…but I was angry! As we walked, I was praying for God’s help, but also that my anger wouldn’t make our problem worse. I just wasn’t about to be taken advantage of because of my white skin.

I asked where we were going. “UPDF”, he said. The unmarked semblance of huts on the other side of the bridge turned out to be the police barracks. Luke and I were told to sit on the benches in an open hut to our left. I said something about not wanting to be late for our appointment, but then decided it best to be quiet and cooperative.

Over the next ten minutes or so, a few other officers joined us in the hut. The original officer that had found us out on the bridge explained to the others in Luganda why he had brought us there, but Luke and I were still having trouble figuring out what we had done wrong. The air was tense.

The bridge…the birds…the photos… it was becoming clear. We were told that one is not allowed to take photos of the bridge or from the bridge without previous permission. We, of course, were unable to provide the appropriate paperwork showing permission granted. I said, “Fine. I will delete the photos then. Here, come watch. Delete, delete, delete…” To be honest, in that moment the photos were tainted anyway, and I did not consider losing them much of a loss. A few of the officers watched over my shoulder as I deleted each photo I had taken from the bridge. Luke followed suit, although less willingly, he told me later; he really liked the shots he’d taken.

Even with the pictures now gone, we weren’t sure if this was enough to appease them. All the while I kept thinking...Alright, I deleted the photos, but I am not going to pay a fine. “So sorry. We didn’t know. There were no signs. You need to put up signs.” My anger had softened and I now concentrated on showing a truly apologetic spirit. I also stressed the lack of signage because in my mind that made it impossible for them to fine us; how could we know we were breaking the law if we were not informed?

Thankfully, they seemed relieved with the removal of the photos, but the one who spoke the best English next asked for our passports. I produced a copy of mine while Luke pulled out his Driver’s license. They were satisfied once again. Then, with no further fuss, we were allowed to leave. This was so sudden that I almost believed the last ten minutes to be just a bad dream. Not needing to be prodded, Luke and I hurriedly left the compound without looking back. (We were later told that they didn’t really have the right to ask for our passports and were actually looking for another reason for which to extract money from us, that is if we couldn’t produce ID.)

I really think it was a miracle that we came away from that experience with both of our cameras and all of our money still in our possession. And, although our “welcome” to Jinja and the show of Uganda’s corruption was very unsettling, we were able to laugh about this incident just a short while later. I’m thankful that God had our backs, and that he enabled me to have patience and courage (stubbornness?) in this situation.

(I could write a blog almost this long about the adventure with the taxi on the way back to Kampala, but I think one story about the unavoidable drama and unfortunate corruption in Uganda is enough for today. Just know that a muzungu (white person) really has to be on their toes here. I am learning that, when it doubt, look to see what the Africans are doing. If they are refusing to get off the taxi before reaching the taxi park, then I will too. Another great story you will have to ask me about when I get home. This one made all on the taxi laugh…except for the crooked taxi driver and conductor, of course. :) )

Culture Shock

The more we retreat from the culture and the people
the less we learn about them;
the less we know about them,
the more uncomfortable we feel among them;
the more uncomfortable we feel among them,
the more inclined we are to withdraw.

~ Craig Storti (Duane, Elmer - “Cross-Cultural Connections” - p. 43)

Well, I knew it couldn’t be because of my adapter; I discarded it as soon as I saw sparks from when I had accidentally got water in it. Nor was I standing at the top of a nearby hill to get struck by this mornings’ lightening. Yet there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt, I’d been shocked.

Culture shock.

My feet have navigated the gravel roads of Oxford, New Zealand and I have eaten refried beans for breakfast in Tecate, Mexico. I have strolled along the Ganges River in Varanasi, India, and marveled at the bustling markets in Istanbul, Turkey. I have even been immersed in the culture of Oakland, California’s inner city. I must have experienced some level of culture shock in each of these places, but other than in India, I believe it mostly went unnoticed.

Is it the length of time in Africa that has heightened the shock for me now? Is it the simple fact that I have ventured here alone? Or is it the intensity of poverty that I see almost daily? I know that in India it was the beggar’s hands that I hid from in my hotel room; I just didn’t know how to deal with their constant asking. And although Africa rarely requests the change in my pocket, she sure does ask other things of me.

I have always thought of myself as the sort of person who loves to engage with new cultures, enjoying the give and take; the learning and changing…yet I find myself often withdrawing and unwilling (maybe just unable?) to give what is being petitioned of me. I believe that I am still that open, adventurous and inquisitive person, and more importantly, I believe that God has a purpose for my being in Africa, but the culture shock that I now feel threatens to keep me uncomfortable and withdrawn. It saddens me to think that it could also hinder what God wants to do in and through me here.

Now as you read this, please be gentle. I have had to bestow much grace on myself since this recent enlightenment, and would humbly appreciate it from you also. Yet, I am writing this for your reading for these four reasons: 1) So that maybe I would better understand what I am feeling by writing it out and sharing it; 2) So that those who have been in this place can offer some advice or encouragement; 3) So that you can be praying for me; and 4) So that God will get all the praise as you read my blogs in the coming months and see how he has been faithfully leading, helping and changing me.

I do want to mention that, despite how I am feeling right now, there have been some very beautiful moments in my last month and a half here in Uganda. I am learning the language mpola mpola (bit by bit), I have come to love the days spent at the Street Boy Shelter, and I have been able to experience many parts of Ugandan life. I just pray that these beautiful moments will become more frequent and the moments when I want to hide in the hotel will occur less and less.

My hope is in Jesus, my constant and unchanging friend.

Christmas Greetings

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed
The little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head
The stars in the bright sky look down where he lay
The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay

My dear friends and family,

In my twenty-three years as a Christian, I have heard the Christmas story countless times. But when I was reading through the account of Jesus’ birth in the Gospel of Luke to prepare for a lesson I was to teach, I found myself in tears. Jesus came into the world as a baby! And, not only was he a baby, but a poor baby; a baby who spent his first night in the company of cows and sheep in a stable! I know that is not news to many of you, and nor was it to me, but think about the implications that has for the children I am working with here in Uganda. God was so wise and loving to send his Son to the world in such a way that all could relate to him, even a small child living in the most humble circumstances. What love is that! What better gift to give to the children this year than the knowledge of God’s great love for them. And what better gift to give to you also. May the love that was shown on that first Christmas day be felt in your hearts and known in your lives also this year. Happy Christmas and a Blessed New Year to each of you.

Lovingly, Erin

If sickness be my chains

Last night my sickness worsened. Now I had a sore throat, a fever and a headache to add to my unsettled stomach and overall weakness. I could feel a cold forming too. I decided that sleep would be impossible right away, so I chose to read for a bit first. I settled on the biography of David Livingstone, the missionary and explorer to South Africa in the 1800’s. I read the entire thing before night’s end, and a quote from Livingstone on the fourth to last page resonated with me:

“What is the atonement of Christ? It is Himself; it is the inherent and everlasting mercy of God made apparent to human eyes and ears. The everlasting love was disclosed by our Lord’s life and death. It showed that God forgives, because He loves to forgive. He works by smiles if possible. If not, by frowns; pain is only a means of enforcing love.”

Pain eh? Well, I know a bit of that right now. If it is to bring me closer to God…I guess I can handle it…

When I awoke today, much of the pain and weariness was gone...and even my spirit felt refreshed. Praise God! But, I was still not 100%. I doubted that I had the strength to struggle through another day. Then I thought of Livingstone. How many dozens of times did he endure river fever in his years in Africa, let alone other injuries and concerns? And Paul…he was imprisoned for sharing Jesus, yet he didn’t stop; he seemed only strengthened by this obstacle. Could I then also be like Paul, or Livingstone? I would sure like to try…in God’s strength of course.

This poem came from my ponderings:


If sickness be my chains
How shall I still proclaim
His glory and might and power
His goodness and love in this hour

To the sky my prayers I send
Sweet fragrance tells of heaven opened
My brothers and sisters I shall tell
This same God in them does dwell

Praise be to his name
Tomorrow I shall say the same
He has done great things
Bless his holy name

Staying Connected #2

Dear friends,

To say that this past month has been a rollercoaster of emotion does not quite capture it. The loneliness has been deep and I have struggled in my effort to adjust to the time, altitude, heat, food, and culture here in Uganda. Ah, but through it all I have been held in God’s loving hands, and I am confident that your prayers have helped to keep me there. Also, just last week I found myself wishing to be nowhere but where I am right now…in Africa! Praise God!

Yet, despite the struggles that I have encountered so far in my African journey, my service for God under ACTION has begun. It has been determined that from Monday to Wednesday I will go to the street boy day shelter. This shelter provides the boys with a place to sleep, do laundry, obtain two meals, keep their minds sharp through daily school time, and learn from the Bible. So far my task has simply been to befriend the boys, but in essence, through that friendship to encourage them towards repentance and restoration with God and their families. My responsibilities are gradually growing to include the school portion one day a week, and will most likely include some Bible teaching in the coming months.

I am very thankful for the opportunity to interact with these boys, but I also covet your prayers for my future work with them. Besides adjusting to them being older than I expected (they are mostly in their mid-late teens), my main struggle has been trying to love where there is no trust. The boys do not divulge their real names, and more often than not, their stories about their families and why they are on the streets are just as doubtful. But, it is very plain that at the root of the manipulation and lies are wounded souls that need the love of Jesus. I pray that God would teach me how to love these boys, and that trust may be birthed between us. May that love and trust then work together to bring healing and hope to these boys who call the streets their home.

As for other ministry, I have been typing up some previously translated teaching material in the Teso language. Those in Soroti have very few Christian resources in their language and I am privileged to be able to help them in this area. Also, with Christmas coming up, we are very busy preparing for our outreaches at which we plan to share the Gospel and bring gifts to almost 2000 children. Additionally, we will be giving a Christmas meal and presenting the Gospel for about 400 people in the condemned (death row) section of the prison here in Kampala. Besides helping to prepare for and carry out these outreaches, I will also be teaching at a children’s program this week in Namulanda. Up to 300 children will be there to hear of Jesus as the greatest gift ever given. Please pray for all who will hear God’s message of salvation this Christmas, as well as for boldness, guidance and safety as I travel and teach this week.

As you bring the above prayer requests to God, please also be praying for each of us on this ACTION Uganda team: Jim, Kappy, Luke and I. Each of us has been suffering with flu-like symptoms off and on for the entire time I have been here, some to greater extents than others. Tests have just shown that we might all have an amoeba, contracted from either food or water. I myself am overcome with weakness once again and am lying in my bed as I type this letter to you. Please pray for the medicine to be effective and for God’s healing and strength to come to each of us.

Finally, I want to thank you all for walking this journey with me. I have been truly touched and uplifted by your messages, e-mails and prayers. Thank you also for your financial gifts as they allow God’s work in and through me to continue. Please do check out my ACTION page and blog (see addresses below) for photos, the occasional taste of life in Kampala and more stories of God’s goodness that I hope will bless you and stir your hearts to prayer. My mailing address is also below should you feel so inclined to send mail…or chocolate. J

In God’s faithful service,

Erin Spring (www.actionintl.org/spring --- erinrachelspring.blogspot.com)

Mailing Address: c/o Robinette, PO Box 71249 Clock Tower, Kampala Uganda, East Africa

To support financially:

~ Cheques are to be made out to “Action International Ministries” and mailed to: 3015A 21^st St. NE, Calgary, AB T2E 7T1. My name cannot appear anywhere on the cheque. Instead, please enclose a separate note specifying it is for me.

~ Donations can also be made by credit card over the phone or debited monthly from your bank account or credit card. Simply call 403.204.1421 or 1.888.443.2221 (toll-free), and they will assist you.

~ Online donations are also possible. Go to www.actionintl.org/spring for my page.

A gift from God

Wearied by the weeks behind me, I set out for church last Sunday morning. As I walked, I prayed for the storm in my heart to be stilled and for the confusion in my spirit to be calmed. My first few weeks in Uganda had been pretty rough; I was jet-lagged and lonelier than ever before, I was knocked out by a flu-like sickness for a few days, and my fears kept me questioning if I were to even be in Africa at all. I really needed to hear from God this day.

Inside, as the lively music got underway, a young girl of maybe four years wandered over to me as I sat on the front row. Without a smile, this beautiful little thing ever so casually stopped and stood right beside me, remaining there for most of the singing. Now some of you know me well, and you know what joy a small child brings to my heart. Well, God sure knows me, and as she lingered by my side I thanked him for the gift of her presence. This was very special to me, but I was in awe of God’s goodness when I was later told her name…Gift! Her name was Gift, and she truly was a gift from God to me that day.