I saw baboons. You heard me, baboons.
We were on the “road” from the “airport” in Rumbek, and a whole gang of baboons were in the road, scampering off when we got close. It was seriously sinking in with me that I’m in Africa when I saw those critters.
After a few false starts, Dave, Tom and I finally made it here to the In Deed and Truth compound. We arrived in the late afternoon, so Sunday was our first full day here. We fellowshipped with the church that meets here on the grounds and it was nothing short of awesome. Rythmic clapping and voices singing in Dinka dialect wafted through the morning air, making the small thatched pavilion where we met feel like holy ground. Sabet taught from Exodus a really encouraging and challenging word. The upcoming referendum fairly permeates everything here, as is understandable, since it looms like a storm on the horizon. Sabet reminded the people that God knows the suffering of the Sudanese people, and he desires to help, and the greatest help of all is the salvation of Christ.
The next day I got sick. Not just “ew, I don’t feel so good”, but a rip roaring projectile evacuating kind of sick. I don’t remember much of the day, other than having to stop teaching the pastors mid point in order to run to the bathroom. Not the dignified start I’d hoped for.
The pastor’s class is wonderful, and today, feeling much better, I really felt much more closely connected to them. I’ve never had to speak through a translator before, but Sabet does a great job…and everyone is so kind to me as I feel my way through this. Either way, we’ve had some great discussions.
Santino gets led into the classroom by holding onto a stick that another pastor leads him with. He’s blind. He sits attentively through every hour, asking questions and joining the discussion. Serving people as a pastor with a disability is a daunting prospect in itself. Doing so in these harsh conditions is remarkable. God’s grace creates amazing heroes.
“You must pray for us” Joseph, another pastor said to me as we left the classroom. “Pray for us, we will pray for you, and maybe you will come and teach us again.”. I pack his words like precious, fragile heirlooms into my heart.
We will pray for you Joseph.
This is the class I’m teaching.