Team Five Morris

Our friends from Vintage21 returned home and reported to the world and their church family the details of their Uganda trip. They were kind enough to include us in their report as well as their future goals. For those who don't know, Vintage21 is a product of the Acts29 church planting network and is now a growing multi-campus group of believers in Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina. We have long admired Acts 29, loved hanging out with Pastor Nate Williams and John Heeley while they were here in Kampala, and are humbled they chose to share our story in this amazing "shout-out". We pray this is a start to an amazing work together.

Sojourn Uganda, Redeemer, Sovereign Grace, One Tribe Logos in Uganda......what shall it be. We have to come up with a name and we are divided on what to call it. Sojourn sounds cool, Redeemer is on every other block around here, Sovereign Grace is good but One Tribe may speak to the people a bit and Logos in Uganda sounds like a Star Trek episode. I'm sure it will come to us, but we want to give it some meaning to what we're about. Gospel centered, Christ exalting, Scripture driven, glory of God focused, faith filled, grace operated ministry. If you haven't heard from us in awhile that's because we haven't recharged our account until now. In addition you're also not on our prayer list or you haven't checked the web-site. You may have some catching up to do. Some exciting things have happened and

So the deal is, I am so grateful for the unregenerate person who called me in.  In the sphere of pastors and church goers I have real street creds now.  I even had the vice chairman of the local pastors organization come to my house and congratulate me on my recent incarceration attempt.  He said, "Now we know you are supposed to be here."  Apparently any pastor worth their salt and not paying off officials gets a ride from the police, especially if they don't have there papers in order.  So thank you unregenerate guy for your help in my acceptance to the community.

I never knew my dad's training would come in so handy.  My dad, being a policeman himself, would

For those who have experieced traffic in Kampala or similar emerging 3rd world cities help those who don't have a clue.  The driving here is sport.  It's eyes on the road, looking everywere for everything all at once.  It's intense, scary and at times blood boiling.  I've become a skilled traffic surgeon, even with my bulky 4x4.  Why would it be any differant on a motorcycle.  Well it is.  Let me first set the stage, I'm wearing blue jeans, my engineer boots a button up shortsleeve shirt and my super cool bad-boy sunglasses.  I'm hangin' out with Joel across the street from my house while he finishes his cup of milk, thats right milk.  My neighbor pulls up on his Honda Magna (kinda a big bike, especially for Kampala).  I had been eye-balling this machine for a few weeks now and I began to move my lips to Joel about how I used to have a similar bike back home when I was younger.  Before the words were out of my mouth he hollers at the guy to let me ride his bike, to which he excitedly agrees.  So, me being the good missionary that I want to be accepts the invitation from the guy and hops on.  It was nice, and it could really move.  In about a one mile stretch I about splattered on someones bumper 4 times.  The rules had changed drastically.  Like, bikes don't get any room, no consideration and I think most consider them a target to hit.  It was a bit frightening but I just kept saying to myself, "your reformed, your reformed" and sped wildly down the center of traffic until I arrived safely back at home.  The boda's on the corner got a real kick out of watching this and I think I've got some street creds now.  That is until I shout to the owner of the bike, "Webale Kafumba" which is "thank you for the food".  As soon as I said it I knew I had just undone everything.  He was gracious and gave me a little hi sign matched with the standard head nod.  And I went home and ate rice and beans and forgot to tell my wife about the whole think.