From the first time we stepped into the guest house in
Bugolobi, Kampala Peter, an employee there has been serving us with the utmost
care and diligence. We have stayed in this guest house nearly every weekend and
for over two weeks doing ministry actually in and around Bugolobi. Peter has
always been there with the biggest smile we have ever seen. His heart is for
ministry but work keeps him so busy that he has just made his work his
ministry. Peter actually works two or three jobs, sometimes it is hard to
understand him because of his accent.
Last weekend I found out that Peter, a guy who I do not even
think knows how to offend people, was poisoned. He was in the hospital for two
days and lost a lot of weight. I am not sure how it happened but apparently
someone at his other job got mad at him and put something in his food. He is a
strong fella and was back on his feet by Saturday night at the guest house but
was clearly VERY sick. He looked as if he had been run over by a Boda.
So Sunday morning came around and I went to find Peter to
pray for him and see if I could do anything for him. All he asked is that we go
to church with him that morning.
We split the team, thanks to the wisdom of Candis and K-Dub,
and five went to Resurrection Church, our support church, and seven went with
Peter who practically stumbled to the taxi stage two blocks away. We took a cab
and got out a block from the church in an unfamiliar part of downtown Kampala.
Peter led the way up four flights of stairs pausing every few steps to catch
his breath and his balance. As we walked into church we received the normal welcome
white people get here; we sat on the front row, I gave a “word,” we all
introduced ourselves in front (with a mic turned up WAY to loud), and had a
great time plugging our ears as someone talked.
The time came for worship. The team got up to dance and sing
and up jumps Peter greeting each person with a huge smile and joining right in
as if nothing were wrong. My only thought was that at any minute this guy was
going to collapse from exhaustion, but he did not sit down. He danced. Peter
danced unlike anyone I have ever seen. My eyes came to tears when I realized
that the only reason he danced was to praise God, for he was alive; the poison
had failed. With a drip IV still in his arm Peter danced and smiled and sang
for close to forty-five minutes.
Mr. Bojangles was the comparison that came to mind as I sat
there in awe of this child of God, this brother of mine. But perhaps David
would work as well, or the man Jesus healed by the well and gave him back his
legs. Anyway we look at it God LOVES to make us dance. That Sunday morning heaven
was alive with joy, my heart shook, rattled and rolled and Peter danced before the
King of Glory.
Later that day he was back in the hospital and I have not
been able to get any word on how he is doing. Please pray for our amazing
brother Peter. He has touched many lives and longs to do more. We have only one
more week here and Mbale so far has been great. Two more days of ministry here
and we are off to Jinja for debriefing before our flight on the 30th.
I love you all and appreciate your prayers and support.
Joseph
