School Fees

Young children in Uganda (and most African countries) speak very little English. They typically speak 1-2 other languages at this point, but English is not learned until they start attending school. As someone who loves kids, I have learned ways around having to speak the same language and typically hold their hands, tickle them and laugh with them. 

Where we are staying in Arua is right next to women's barracks for a local teaching college. There are several small children who live on this compound (probably the children of workers who stay there). One girl is named "Chancellor Commander" (yes, that is her real name). She loves to run up and greet me with a smile, hold my hand and walk with me. 

One day, after greeting her many times before, Chancellor held my hand, walked with me, and with wide eyes, looked up at me and said, "School Fees??". Aside from the usual known greeting of, "How are you?", this is the only English I have ever heard this child speak. Since we have gotten this request many times since being in Uganda, I knew right away that those two words were a plead for us to pay her school fees for her. I also quickly knew that this sweet little child who didn't speak any English aside from simple greetings, did not come up with these words on her own. Someone in her family (probably her mother) had most likely seen her walking with me before and told her that next time she saw me, she should repeat these two magic words. 

I had not seen Chancellor for several weeks until running into her today. For the first time ever, I also met her mother. Her mother told me how her husband had passed away two years ago and she was left caring for her two children on her own. We had a great conversation and I told her she was a very strong woman and I was impressed by all she was able to handle on her own. Chancellor walked away with her mom and we all said goodbye. About 30 seconds later, Chancellor came running back up to me. This time, she was holding a folded up note that had been written for her (and stored somewhere for a while) and handed it to me. The note said, "Please give me money for school fees. My father has passed away and I need money to attend school". Again, someone had clearly instructed her to give this to me the next time I was around. 

I quickly went from being excited over the lovely conversation I had with Chancellor's mother to feeling extremely guilty over not running and handing her money for school fees. You have to understand, children not having money for school fees here is a VERY common problem. Almost every mother at the Moru church has told me she struggles to pay school fees for her children each term. The need is constant and very real. Paying school fees for everyone who has requested this of us is simply not possible.

When I got home I started processing what I was feeling. My first thought was, "I just feel guilty for not helping!!". Then I (or more likely, the Lord re-directing my thoughts) realized that without a doubt, if I felt like God was telling us to pay Chancellor's school fees, we would do it in a heartbeat. No question. If God put it on my heart to bring her over the money right now, I would do it. But I knew that wasn't what He was doing. Something was telling me I did the right thing by not running to hand her money. So what was the nagging feeling that was still there? As I thought about it more, I realized it was my pride. My pride craved the attention that comes after giving someone what they are asking for. I wanted to know I was tangibly helping the mother and, therefore, making her day much easier with the stress of where to get money for school fees taken away. I wanted to know I was helpful and needed. All good things, but not when they are done for the wrong reasons. Yikes. Hello, pride. 

So, this little request from a sweet 4 year old has knocked hard on my pride today and brought me to a place of repentance. Repentance for wanting to be Chancellor's savior. I wanted to solve her problems and make everything better for her. However, when I really look at this seriously, I realize that what I really want is to be enough for her. I want to be the one who provides for her needs. This is not my job. God did not call me to the mission field to become the Provider for those I minister to. That is His role. My role is simply to point people to the ultimate Provider. Yes, sometimes this is done by meeting their needs, but this has to be prompted by God, not by my own pride or desire to help. Will and I would quickly run out of energy and resources if we just started handing money to anyone who asked for it. It might make them feel good for the day, but what about tomorrow when we've used all our resources and they are still in need? 

My prayer is that I will continue to realize that my role as a missionary is to point people to Christ. That is the goal, purpose and hope. That is done in many different ways, so I pray that I would also be in tune with how God is leading with each specific person. For some, He might direct us to pay school fees as a way of building trust and relationship and helping to provide for their basic needs. For others, He might direct us to simply be present, hold hands, cry and mourn in the midst of tragedy. The key is being attentive to His voice and following where He leads.