Walking down red dirt, pot-hole filled, Ugandan roads, I hear voices. I hear children who cry "Mzungu!" and "Muno bye, muno bye!" I hear the voices of my team members in morning prayers, during feedback, in bible study, preaching sermons on the radio and at lunch hour prayer, and crying out to Jesus when their struggles and doubts try to take over. I also hear their voices speaking truths over my team members who are struggling and doubting.
Walking down red dirt, pot-hole filled, Ugandan roads, I hear the voice of my Savior. I hear His voice crying "Mzungu!" and "Muno bye, muno bye!" I hear His voice in morning prayers, during feedback, in bible study, preaching sermons on the radio and at lunch hour prayer, and responding to my team members crying out to Him when their struggles and doubts try to take over. I hear His voice speaking truths over my team members who are struggling and doubting. I hear the voice of my Savior in these children and in my team members. I hear His voice in my quiet prayer time. I hear His voice urging me closer and closer to Him.
Coming to Uganda has made me 'insane' because I hear voices. To be honest, I hope to never be 'sane' again.
