Yeah that's right, I gave a sermon. Take a second. Breathe. Pick your jaws off the floor.
I grew up in a very white Episcopalian Church with a very elderly congregation in Central Illinois, it wasn't exactly fun to go to church. This morning myself, the executive director of APP, and his friend were invited to a service at the condemned section (death row) of Luzira Upper Prison. The service was amazing and very fun.
But try to imagine this. Church in prison. Not just that, but in death row. In Uganda. And not to be stereotypical, but these folks aren't just black, they are African. They can dance. And sing. And play the drums. And they know how to praise the Lord!
It is also worth saying that Ugandans are very religious people. Christianity is by far the most popular religion and religion is taken very seriously. With that being said, when one enters prison, or in this case death row, inmates cling to what remains, and for most, that is their religion.
And although I am not religious, the service was moving because I knew it truly meant something to the people in my presence. They weren't there because going to church is the "right" or "proper" or "moral" thing to do, they went to church because they continue to have faith when there are not many reasons to maintain it. They go to church because the pastor is one of the few people who continue to care for them. Church and God has become their salvation.
Going in to the church service I did not know what to expect, besides the fact that I would most likely be asked to say a few words. (Ugandans love speeches.) I prepared myself the night before because I did not feel comfortable reading from the Bible and speaking of God, so I brought the book of poems that David Montieth gave me.
I read a poem that reflected what I have learned in Uganda and Ugandan prisons. I think it went well, that is with the inmates, they were just pleased to listen to a new face from the outside speak to them. It didn't go over so well with the pastor. He later told me that he thought my sermon was missing something. (God) And I told him the truth. He didn't like the truth that much and blamed my whiteness and Americans' love of material things over godly things.
Oh well, you can't win every battle.
On Teaching
13 years ago
"They weren't there because going to church is the "right" or "proper" or "moral" thing to do, they went to church because they continue to have faith when there are not many reasons to maintain it. They go to church because the pastor is one of the few people who continue to care for them. Church and God has become their salvation."
ReplyDeleteThat's powerful stuff. On a lot of levels.
Agreed. You're going to write a book about all this stuff someday right, Julie?
ReplyDeleteWay to stick to your guns regarding your personal beliefs and at the same time convey something different and meaningful to a group of men facing something we can't really begin to understand. It breaks my heart that god and the pastor are some of the only things they have left to cling to....because the rest of the secular (and religious) world has deserted them. As a fellow non-religious person, it makes me all the more determined to serve others without some doctrine telling me to....great story, Julie.
ReplyDeleteNo, you can't win every battle. But that's okay. You won the important one: connecting with humanity.
ReplyDeleteSo you KNOW I love this! I've WAITED for the day that Julie Meyer would give a sermon!!! I love it, sis! And I agree with each of the aforementioned statements, especially Kate's "you won the important one: connecting with humanity." Well done! And if your message was sincere, heartfelt, and compassionate, I argue that God was very much present. Overall, I'm proud of you!
ReplyDeleteI don't know why you would think anyone would be surprised by you giving a sermon. You have given me plenty of sermons over the past 23 years.
ReplyDelete