The Teaching Begins...

Ergh.  I can't believe it has already been three weeks since our last post!  And, like you, often so much happens in so little time, it is hard to sit down and recount what has happened in the days that have passed.  A picture is worth a thousand words, of course, but unfortunately our camera is not working properly, so words are all I have.  Here are two vignettes:

Teaching
Love it.

Love it, love it, love it.  I hope my students love my teaching as much as I do.  I love it.  I feel that at last doing I am doing what I was made to do.  I have two courses this semester: Introduction to the New Testament, and the Gospel of Mark and the Acts of the Apostles (two books, one course).  I have fourteen students in the former course, and ten in the latter.  Most of them are from Uganda, but a few are from Rwanda.  They range in age from late twenties to early sixties, and their experience in ministry extends from two years to thirty four years.  Some speak English fluently, most are proficient, many are struggling, and all find my American accent difficult to understand.  (My greatest challenge is one fellow who speaks halting English and is deaf in one ear!)  Lectures take far longer to deliver as I have to speak very slowly, then restate certain concepts in other ways in an attempt to ensure understanding.

Nevertheless, these students are a joy to teach.  You can imagine the wealth of knowledge, experience, and insights they bring into the class.  (Following the lead of the Dean/President of Trinity -- my seminary alma mater and previous place of employment -- I call myself the "senior student" of the class, acknowledging that all of them have things to teach me as well.)  Here at the beginning, it is challenging to get the discussion rolling, but once their tongues loosen, it is well worth listening.  In some ways, it has been an easy beginning.  I'm using essentially the same material for both courses here at the beginning of the semester as I lay the foundation and establish the framework for how we approach Scripture.  Also, at this it's material I've studied, taught, and reflected on many, many times.  Even so, getting to teach it again, and watching as understanding is gained, connections are made, and new insights (for all of us!) are shared....  Love it!

The mechanics of teaching are a definite challenge.  I did not know the schedule of classes until the day classes began, and the schedule has already changed four times in the past two weeks.  In fact, Thursday night there I answered a knock on my door, and was told that my one of my classes (for which I had not yet prepared) had been moved to the following morning at 8:30!  I was grateful to be informed, because last Friday my class had been cancelled completely, but no one had mentioned that fact to me.

Also, rooms are not assigned.  They are on a first come, first serve basis.  If, however, you have more students than the lecturer currently occupying the room, you can bump that class out and take over.  The rooms have no electricity, and the chairs are scattered and dusty.  The blackboards have not been washed since 1952, and at times the chalk dust on the ledge is over a half inch thick.  My first part of every class is to gather off the floor the largest pieces of chalk I can find.  These are so brittle that even the smallest pieces disintegrate when I press them against the blackboard.  The eraser is a paper towel left over from the previous term.  By the end of the class my black clergy shirt is almost entirely white,  and I won't describe what I sneeze into my kleenex as I leave the room.

"Leave the room."  That reminds me -- I was puzzled at the end of the first several sessions.  I would close a class with prayer, then bid the students farewell and start writing down notes and adjustments to my lecture.  Glancing up, I would see the students still sitting quietly.  I would tell them they could leave, but it would take two or three times before they actually exited the classroom.  Finally, at the end of my third class, I said, "Okay, friends.  We've been talking about different worldviews and the clash of cultures.  Here's an immediate example.  I say the class is over, and you are free to go, but you don't go.  What is happening?  What am I missing?"  One student responded,  "Reverend, we cannot leave the room until you leave the room!"  I immediately turned on my heel and ran out of the room.  There was a moment of silence, followed by loud laughter.  I reentered and said, "Okay, I've left.  Now will you go?"  They laughed and filed out of the room.  Since then, I do immediately walk out of the room after each class (and they still laugh), and the students follow close behind, which in turn has given me the opportunity to have more discussions with my students!

Visitors
In my first week of teaching, we also enjoyed a wonderful visit from Tina Lockett and Martha Giltinan, former colleagues and current friends from Trinity.  The lugged along a suitcase with 40 pounds of goodies for our family.  Not only were there M&M's galore, but also nail polish for Leslie and the girls, word puzzles and other gifts for Jesse, and a wonderful travel communion set made of pottery (an ordination gift from my parents).  Martha and Tina, of course, were the real treasures.  The kids could not get enough time with them, and Martha and Tina loved on them as if they were their own children.  With these ladies come much laughter, storytelling, flashes of theological insight, updates from the world we left behind, sweet prayers, and fun companionship.  I enjoyed in particular getting to watch them in action with the students of BBUC.  Both Martha and Tina preached while they were here, and Martha also gave a brief and powerful teaching on theological reflection with the Trinity.  Each day they met with students in a variety of settings, and connected with several of the staff of the university.  You could see from the way the students sought them out, as well as in their responses after the services, that Martha and Tina impacted several lives in their brief time here.  We were sad to hug them goodbye, but so glad to have shared our lives with them for a brief time.

Past, Present, Future...

Looking Back

One year ago today my dad, Jesse, and I drove from PA to TX with what remained of our worldly goods.  Leslie and the girls had flown ahead several days before, and we were all settling in for our "brief" stay with my parents -- a stay which became a wonderful 8 month homecoming.

I won't retell the stories of the joys of living at The 10 Acres with my parents, the strengthening of our relationships with our teammates, the challenges of raising support, the life-changing time at Mission Training International, the final push in the summer to get to Uganda, the first hard months of settling in, the past few weeks of beginning to feel settled....  Heck, most of y'all reading this blog could tell the stories yourselves!

I will say again, as you've heard us say before:  Our Father is faithful.  Each morning, as the kids and I walk to school here in Uganda, we always sing a chorus that I sang with my family at breakfast when I was a kid:  "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.  His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.  Great is your faithfulness, oh Lord!"  The words come from Lamentations 3.22-23, one of the few glimmers of hope in an Old Testament cry of anguish and yearning.  I forget which writer or professor or preacher first pointed out to me one of the beauties of the book of Lamentations -- it is a series of acrostic poems, poems using the Hebrew alphabet in their first lines, offering "a lament 'from A to Z' (or aleph to taw)."  The grieving poet is identifying a pattern in the pain, and finds at the heart of it the steadfast love of God.

I'm not trying to cast the past year, or even the past months, in the same light as the suffering people of Israel.  What I am expressing is what I'm seeing as I look back over 2010 -- amidst all the varying patterns we could discern and articulate, at the heart of them all is the steadfast love of God, the promise-keeping, unyielding, life-giving, pursuing love of God.

Looking Here
We have just finished a wonderful Christmas and New Year season here in Uganda.  (Yes, yes, my liturgical friends -- it is still Christmas for a few more days, and we are preparing for Epiphany.)  The days leading up to Christmas had sadness mixed in as we missed home and family, and even smaller things like hearing Christmas music at Starbucks and driving in the cold in search of a Christmas tree.  Christmas Eve, however, was glorious.  The Hines-Morrow kids performed a pageant they had initiated, written, and put together entirely on their own.  We decorated gingerbread cookies, read the Christmas story, and enjoyed a meal of quiche, chicken sausages, and waffle-cakes.

Christmas morning was lovely as well.  After opening stockings, I slipped out to participate in the Christmas service at the Cathedral as a priest (yay!), then came back for presents and a day at home.  My initial concern at the paucity of presents was overwhelmed by the kids joy at a tree "flooded with gifts" (Georgia's exclamation).  We spent the afternoon with the Morrows, and then a pleasant evening at home.  I woke up extra early the next morning to compose a sermon after discovering at the last minute that I was slated to preach at the English service of the cathedral, then we spent the day packing for our first trip driving along to Kampala.

That's where we were last week.  Oy!  The road trip to and from Kampala should be a blog entry itself -- QUICK!  DECIDE!  Do you avoid the pit that passes for a pothole by swerving left and risk knocking over one bicyclist, two motorcycles, a few pedestrians, and an avocado stand, or do you swerve right into the other lane and "play chicken" with the oncoming truck laden with long-horned cattle.  What would you do?

Aside from the stress of travel, we had a wonderful time in Kampala, resting in a wonderful space and recharging our batteries.

We're back at home now.  I've set up my makeshift study -- a too-low table and chair made of woven grass, two rickety bookshelves bought from a roadside carpenter, my face to a blank wall, my back to a row of boxes, Rublev's Trinity on my right, and a wooden African shield on my left with the words "We are all one in Christ." Oh yeah -- and my Dell Studio XPS laptop.  In this space I'm trying to hammer out my syllabi for my upcoming courses on the New Testament and the Gospel of Mark and Acts.  Leslie is starting kids on homeschooling.  Our househelp are catching up on all our laundry and cleaning.  And we're anticipating the visit of some friends from Trinity School for Ministry.


Looking Ahead

So what does the first part of 2011 look like for us?  Well, first, we continue to settle in.  We still need furniture for our home, we're still learning how to shop, cook, relate, and handle the basics of living.  Our main rule of life right now is, if you think you understand what's going on, if  you think you've got it figured out...ya don't.  Let it go, breathe deeply, and take the next step.

We'll return to our weekly meetings with our teammates, and take the next steps in discerning how God wants us to join in his work here.  We're going to be meeting with a missionary couple from Germany who have already begun doing what we have dreamed of doing in raising up East African missionaries.  They've sent one Ugandan to Germany, and are discipling a Congolese couple right now.  We'll also continue living into our relationships with the leaders of the university community, the hospital, and the diocese, listening for how we are to join in here.


I begin teaching my courses next week, and I'll also begin to take on other responsibilities within the BBUC community -- working in the computer lab, joining some committees (whee), beginning research for doing distance learning in East Africa, attending and preaching at chapel.  I also need to clarify with the bishop my role at the cathedral for this next season.


The kids will begin at a new school in February.  They're actually looking forward to it.  It's much smaller than their previous school, and the headmistress is quite progressive from an educational perspective.  We all have hope that this will be a better fit for our kids.  The first school really did work hard to accommodate us, and they expressed great love and concern for our kids.  After much prayer and many conversations, however, we are confident that we need to make this move for the sake of our kids.  We won't be walking to school any more, but it's only a 10 minute drive away.


Leslie will continue making our home a place of rest and beauty, and caring for Julia at home.  She'll also begin attending some of the gatherings of clergy wives and staff couples, and working alongside the members of our household.


Final Reflection
I've been reading slowly through the Gospel of Mark.  One of the themes I've been noticing again is that of authority.  Particularly in the first few chapters of Mark, Jesus is establishing his authority as the one ushering in the Kingdom of God -- his authority to teach, his authority to heal, his authority to forgive sins, his authority over demons, his authority over the sabbath.  As I came to the well known story of Jesus speaking peace to the wind and the waves at the end of chapter 4, I saw something that was new for me.  On one level Jesus is establishing his authority over the natural order; even the wind and waves obey him, the disciples whisper.  I think there is something even deeper here.  In biblical and near eastern literature, the sea and bodies of water are images of chaos, places of fear and disorder.  Even here, however, Jesus demonstrates his authority.

As I've been preparing to teach, and even in facing the stressors of this past fall, fear of confusion, chaos, and lack of control keeps determining my decisions and my inner order (or, rather, disorder).  As I read this passage again in Mark, I heard Jesus saying to me, "Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?"  Can I not see how his authority extends to the seeming chaos of my life?  In these next days and weeks, I want to listen for his voice speaking peace to the wind and waves.