a message from caleb

Caleb has been working with the Anglican Church during his research. He wrote this after one of his days visiting churches in Kampala.

Yesterday I had the privilege of visiting two different parishes. The first was St. Stephen’s in Kisugu. Kisugu is a very beautiful area of Kampala. The parish there is large. They have 3 different services, a variety of instruments, multiple beautiful buildings, and a large staff. They are currently building a two story, 3-bedroom house with a beautiful view of the city for their pastor to live in. In Ugandan terms, this house is a mansion. I went with a group of church workers from Kisugu to visit another church in nearby Kalerwe. Both churches are part of the Kampala diocese in the Anglican Church. Both are churches in the global body of Christ. Both serve the same God and have the same call. The church in Kalerwe however looks quite different from Kisugu.
Kalerwe is a slum. It is plagued by theft, prostitution, AIDs, poverty, and twice a year it is plagued by floods. Uganda has two rainy seasons every year. Prior to the most recent highway construction, the rains would come and would flow through Kalerwe and out into rivers and streams. However, just 5 years ago, the World Bank decided to build a highway in Kampala. The people in the slum warned the World Bank that the highway would block the rains from leaving the slum, causing floods. They begged the World Bank to put in a new drainage system to prevent flooding. The cost to build this drainage system was extremely small, and so the World Bank had no problem agreeing to this. However, the World Bank didn’t follow through on its promise: as a result, every 6 months the slum floods. The garbage heaps float around on the water. The water that flows down the hills into the slum can exceed 5 feet. People have to flee their homes. The houses, which are made of mud and some stone, start to fall apart. At the end of the flood season, houses have sunk multiple feet into the ground. These people have nowhere to go, no jobs, and no hope of improved lives.
I met Reverend Frederick, who is the priest at Kalerwe. He was overflowing with joy to the point of tears when I arrived with our group of five from Kisugu. He showed us the church. The church has sunk so that the windows, which may have been brilliant at one point, now function as the doors to the church. Despite the floods, the congregation continues to return to their beloved church. As soon as Rev. Frederick’s initial excitement subsides, he beings to tell us of his and the churches needs. He has tears in his eyes again as he says, “we are exhausted. I’m sorry to say it…but I am poor, needy.” He lists off the things stacked against the church, which fill several lines of my piece of paper. Reverend Frederick is one of the most incredible people I have ever met. He was assigned to the church in Kalerwe, and told that the church would take care of him. He was assigned to be poor. He was assigned to struggle to eat and to struggle to send his kids to school. If all pastors were to be assigned churches to preside over, Kalerwe would be at the bottom of the list. And if the last will really be first someday, Reverend Frederick won’t be far from the top.
As I leave the slum I’m frustrated. I’m frustrated that even in the church such injustices exist. I’m frustrated that Kalerwe’s sister church Kisugu is building a mansion. I’m frustrated by the structure that put Rev. Frederick in direct poverty. I’m frustrated that Willow Creek, Joel Osteen, and I claim to be in the same category as Kalerwe and Reverend Frederick: that all of us claim to be a part of the global church. I don’t deserve to be in any category that he is in. I am reminded that by some divine grace, Kalerwe is my church. Kalerwe is your church. If we really believe that we are a global body in Christ, then we have a responsibility to Reverend Frederick and to God. And if that responsibility is ours, then we have failed.
Solidarity. Everyone loves that word these days. I laugh a bit as I imagine pretending to have solidarity with Rev. Frederick from my comfort in western Michigan. But I want to end this letter with some words of hope, mainly for myself. I want to be able to leave Uganda and Kalerwe with some sort of closure. I want to know that I can return to Michigan and keep living. But that’s just not really an option. I am haunted by Reverend Frederick who puts my faith to shame every single week. And really, I’m haunted by Jesus, the person I claim to be Lord, who says time and again…die to yourself…pick up your cross…give everything away to the poor and follow me…put down your nets and follow me…blessed are the poor…I was hungry and you didn’t feed me…and the list goes on.