Jess and I were at the Fayetteville Prayer Room to help minister to people. This was a Sunday night in late February. Our time to pray hadn't started yet, and we were talking casually with Rick Boosey, the "leader," about our plans and hopes. We told him how we had sought to take a team of medical professionals this upcoming summer to a special needs orphanage in my hometown over in Xiamen, China, and how that had not worked out. We mentioned wanting to contact people in Guatemala to see if they had needs we could come meet this summer with a team, but that we really were just trying to figure out where God wanted us.
Rick said, "You should meet this friend of mine, Joel. He's a pastor in Uganda and runs an orphanage."
He pointed to the side of the room where an African man was sitting.
"There's not going to be much time to talk tonight, but tomorrow night we'll be having him over to our friends' house and you can talk with him then. God's doing some amazing things with this guy. He ran a sort of underground railroad when Joseph Kony was at large."
I had never heard of Kony until this point.
"How long is he in town for?" I asked.
"He leaves Tuesday morning early."
Jess and I briefly introduced ourselves to Joel that night. The next night I got off work at 7, and we discussed momentarily not going; lots of piddly reasons, none memorable, I'm sure. We went however, knowing no one except Rick and his wife, Cindy, and hoped it wouldn't be too awkward to show up at these strangers' house to see this guy, who was also essentially a stranger.
Soon after arriving and speaking with Joel, I found him to be friendly, jovial, and to possess a fantastic, booming laugh. He shared stories with us for some time of his exploits, but mainly of his "champions," his name for the hundreds of orphans under his care. He shared how God had used a local Fayetteville ministry, Forgotten Song, to provide him with a chicken farm, which in turn produced protein-filled eggs to curb the malnutrition in his champions. These chickens reproduced quickly, and eventually led to enough sales of excess chickens that his facility became entirely self-sustainable through the purchase of livestock and a farm. The house we were at was Charles Davidson's, the visionary and founder behind Forgotten Song.
We explained to Joel Bukenya our desire to be involved overseas in helping people medically. When asked if Joel could use medical help, or if we would have any use there, he replied, "We could keep you busy all day."
After a little more discussion, Joel said, "You should come with Forgotten Song. They are coming to visit us in May."
"I'd love to come, but I think we'll have to wait until next year to save up enough money. The flights are really expensive and we are very poor right now."
"Don't worry about the money. God can provide that," Rick said, with a confidence and matter-of-factness that was inspiring.
We ended the night by exchanging contact information with Joel, and I promised to contact him and let him know what our verdict was.
After less than two weeks, during which we sought God's will fervently, we believed we were meant to go and that God would provide. I told Forgotten Song we were in, and then they sent us the bill: $3,000
per person.
Blown away by this price tag, I immediately set to creating a support letter, the first I've ever made, to send to family and friends. The money was due in "payments," with a first payment of $1,000 due
one week from the time we decided to go; $3,000 due three weeks out; and $2,000 six weeks out. A total of $6,000 to be paid in six weeks time, not including hundreds in extra costs. I'll break those down later.
I had submitted our taxes as soon as possible and we had received over a thousand in a tax return. Part of that had helped us cover some expenses, like my nursing licensure exam (very expensive). We were left with a little less than a thousand, which, combined with some extra we had, we used to cover the first payment of $1,000.
Two more weeks went by and two people sent us support, for about $700 total. The $3,000 payment was due on a Friday, and it was now Thursday. I waited for the mail, and retrieved it directly from the mail lady as she drove up, anxious to see if there was any more assistance.
I had been wrestling all morning with doubts and with alternatives, asking God, "Do you want us to use our emergency savings for this trip?" It literally was a mind-wrestle, trying to determine how to proceed if no more money came today, or if only a little bit trickled in. Finally I made up my mind, before the mail came, and concluded this:
Taking care of my family comes first. I won't dip into our security for this. God, if you want us to go, it's simple: You'll provide. I haven't a shred of doubt that you can provide, so this is your call—we have absolutely no way of paying for this.
The mail came and went, and there was no help.
I was a little sad, a little disappointed, and wondered many things: Perhaps God had told us to go, but He had been merely testing my resolve and didn't want us to go just yet, an Abraham and Isaac sort of deal. Perhaps I had simply heard what I wanted to hear, and He actually had not told me He wanted us to go. Whatever was going on in God's plan, I knew it was a good plan and I trusted Him. It just stunk a little bit to know we wouldn't be going, after we had so fully anticipated it.
I emailed Lauren at Forgotten Song and told her we were unable to raise the money, and could we get our first deposit of $1,000 back? I then called Jessica while she was on her lunch and told her that we wouldn't be going after all.
Two hours later Lauren called me.
"Hey Matt."
"Lauren! How's it going?"
"It's good. Man, so you guys are not going to be able to come?"
"Yeah, we don't have enough for the trip."
"Well, could you still go if your flights were covered?"
I paused, and my pulse increased.
"What, you mean the $3,000 that's due tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, uh, yes we could go." I laughed, bewildered.
"Well..." She paused, "Your flights are paid for."
I in turn paused, my pulse increasing further.
"No." I said.
"Yes," Lauren said, emphatically.
"No, really?"
"Yes."
"Wait wait, you're telling me Forgotten Song is covering the extra or something?" I said.
"No," she said. "Someone called us earlier today and paid for your flights."
I was trying to work out in my head how this could be, as I had not given anyone Forgotten Song's contact details (and had kicked myself for it). After another short pause, I said, "Oh, so someone gave Forgotten Song some money and you guys are going to use it to help us go?"
"No, someone called and paid
your guys' flights. All $3,000. We worked out the details with them this morning."
After a couple more minutes of asking her to repeat herself and clarify, poor Lauren was finally freed from that cycle and we celebrated with great exclamations.
This is one of the ways in which God speaks: By incredible, meaningful, and well-timed actions.
The week after this and on until we left for Uganda, money suddenly poured in from all of our generous and supportive friends and family. It humbled us greatly to be so well loved and blessed by people.
I don't want to be vague about numbers, because that would cover up how awesomely God provided and reduce the glory He deserves. I want you to see how appropriately God provided so that you can know His great love and glorify Him. So here's a breakdown of the hard numbers:
Costs:
$1,000 payment—Covered with Tax Return and some of our personal extra money
$3,000 payment—Covered by anonymous donor
$2,000 payment—Covered by friends and family
$646 in other* costs—$635 support was sent to us beyond that mentioned above.
*$336 Yellow Fever shot, $35 Malaria medicine, $200 cash-on-hand for in Uganda, $30 ink cartridges for Joel's orphanage, $45 extra for a power adapter and airport food (long layovers)
God is awesome, and God provides.
In the days to come, as time permits, I'll be writing about our trip in installments. I love my Father. He's the best.
- Matt
