On resurrections, cause, effect, and return to reality

Our friend Maria Garriott’s book title, A Thousand Resurrections, comes to my mind often, particularly these first few days back (it is excellent reading on the Kingdom in inner city Baltimore. . .).  All around us, if we have eyes to see, the often subtle and occasionally dramatic reversal of death.  Birungi Suizen, 9.2 kg, twice as much of him to love as a few months ago, came back for follow-up yesterday, watching my pocket for the expected candy to appear, a bit hesitant after a month but not afraid.  His mother had a wide smile.  Was it the UNICEF milk, the TB meds, the prayers, the hands-on care of the staff, the temporary removal from a disorganized home situation?  Or all of that?  It is no less a resurrection if God uses the molecules in a pill or a packet of milk than if He works in unseen ways.  We sometimes assume the thin veneer of cause and effect that we can measure explains the world, which is a blindly arrogant assumption.  So I rejoice in Birungi’s life and in the multitude of ways he was healed.  And I affirm that God takes pleasure in his resurrection, just because he is a child, not because of any noble or useful thing he will eventually do.

And Birungi is not alone.  Today Musoki Irene and Mumbere both came for follow-up.  Both were giggling, with smoother skin and energy revived by their ARV’s, both had been pulled back from the precipice of death by their grandmothers’ care, by medicine and food and love and miracle.  And Kabasa, the “little boss”, showed up with his negative PCR results, rescued from infection by medicine and early weaning and good counsel and a committed mother.  Robbinah, whom I left as a wasted wisp of a baby, came to greet me and I did not recognize her new fleshed-out face, even though I had prayed for her daily on the break!  Amazing.  

These resurrections then balance the reality of return.  A month away from Bundibugyo means that every kid we sponsor (or that old team mates sponsor) needs fees and supplies, every patient that we’ve referred for care outside the district needs transportation money for follow-up, every patient that was referred to us over those weeks now takes their opportunity to come for care, and the ever growing number of people who consider themselves our friends feel free to come and explain their most recent crises and needs.  Return is brutal, and Scott takes the brunt of it, but we all feel the onslaught.  

In a few months, perhaps the frail babies admitted today will also be resurrection stories.  Two British agriculture/veterinary missionary couples are visiting this week to support Karen’s Matiti project, and when I feel fed up with the filth and darkness of Bundibugyo it helps my heart to hear them affirm that our people take excellent care of their goats, and to see their excitement about the way these animals can be part of the resurrections to come, feeding the motherless, rescuing the infected.

So we press on, counting the resurrections, hoping for a thousand.