Father’s day found me nostalgic. I am privileged to have a father that had been there for me from the day I arrived. He saw me through the darkest times and spoke light into my life. It wasn’t always easy. He likes to use the adage, “tough minded and tender hearted” to describe his M.O. in disciplining and encouraging me to become all I could be. He found a place for me in what would soon be the crucible for my formative years.
His certain charge and his sure gaze that remarkable day in March of 1999 set me off for an adventure I never would have imagined in a million years.

Those formative years in Budo were riddled with heightened insecurities, amplified fears, and an uncomfortable awareness of my physiological change. Everything seemed out of balance. You see I was like sheep among wolves sent to be a wolf somehow. I was among the best and the brightest minds and bodies of the time. Budo took the cream and had charitable room for the likes of us that slipped in by providence alone.
At that time , everybody was great at something. They were all superior and their distinctions somehow enhanced the insecurities and flaws we couldn’t hide.

You had those great with the girls( the social lites), you had those great with sports (the all rounders) and you had those great with books(those with a future) at the top of the budonian food chain. You then had the regular folk( the average students), the geeks, the insignificant and the low-lifes as the bottom feeders. Then you had me and my kin. Those that had no place to fit in and found consolation in Jesus our sympathiser.
I remember vividly coming into the school and taking a good look at an HSC students with awe and wonder . How so collected they were! So sure of themselves. So aware of their place in the world . So contented with their contribution to society as I knew it then. I wondered if I’d ever be like that. If I’d ever arrive.
In those moments ,I recalled my father’s charge and gaze… I remember the indelible sentiment they left me with.
I came to Budo at the unfortunate tail end, I believe, of an error. One that should have never gone. To be a Budonian was more than a prestigious title or an affiliation with braggadocios lore. It was more than the red budge or the heritage of glories past. To be a budonian was an inculcation of an idea far beyond reach in the moment. It was both an inspiration and a challenge. A tall order to be more than the total sum of one’s faculties.
Countless times, assembly after another, Mr Busuulwa the head teacher then emphasised a decorum and propriety that a budonian embodied. My first Founder’s day was a breath taking display of what seemed like accomplished world changers. The emphasis the Headmaster proclaimed was demystified right before my eyes. The old budonians came in the hundreds and each looking like they had conquers their field of expertise and were on top of the world. And they were. At least on top of my world. I wanted that..
Then my father’s charge and gaze rippled on in this moment too. Not to burst my bubble but remind me of things far beyond the glam I beheld.
A one Dr Chrystosom Muyingo, the state minister for higher education (2013) in his article “Our youth need vocational skills, not misplaced pomp” while defending both his position and budonians on Education brought to light the image of a true Budonian. He said
“So, when you see Budonians walking with their heads high, it’s not because they are snobbish or arrogant; it is a combination of the attributes.. and of course the thrust inspired by the school vision, “To be the hub of globally enlightened and dignified men and women, rooted in Christian values.” https://www.observer.ug/component/content/article?id=24661:-our-youth-need-vocational-skills-not-misplaced-pomp-
A True Budonian, while the vision faded with time, was one with integrity of Character, who carried themselves with dignity and revelled in human decency. This was the image sold to us. To be a Budonian was far beyond political leanings, religious inclination or gender specifications. One was just that .A Budonian. It was a culture. A way of life steeped in years of a deeply spiritual and religious heritage. The discipline, the devotion, and the dedication was demanded of them all for what they were privileged to have.
Six pain staking years of feeling like a failure, a looser and a no body were nearing an end and so did the vision of the Budonian . I purposed to be the best version of who I could be so I latched on to the only hope I ever had because of the father’s charge and gaze. The pressure to remain afloat amid the tempestuous winds of change that had come along in my time made me thrust my hope on the only being I knew would carry me through. GOD.
You see, something changed.
I do not think Budo as an institute changed. It couldn’t. With its roots deeply grounded in the long standing tradition of Church founded schools , its structures rigid as steel and its PTA running the show, the institute didn’t change much. And maybe that is the challenge. Everything else changed.
I posit that long before the internet and technology replaced human connection in homes, there was an expectation of a child that came to Budo. The system simply elevated that which was instilled from childhood and bred in the cradle. From royalty to civil savant, every child was raised to look beyond themselves and their ambitions. They were tasked to not make not just a mark in history but a difference there in. They were taught to treat people with dignity and decency regardless of class or gender. At least those that went to Budo in those days( I stand to be corrected).

When technology replaced human connection and performance superseded character (first in the homes and then in every meaning making institution), integrity was lost, dignity was violated, and decency contravened.
Virulent and toxic world views, life styles and life choices promoted violent and self-centered expressions of a version of Budoninas we have seen in the last two decades that is now being exposed. Damaged individuals from broken homes , with heightened insecurities, daddy issues and grotesque masks of pride, indifference and callousness to hide their wounded hearts.
In my hope to make a difference, I still believe as I did then, in the Budonian that seems like a myth amid the myriad of social media “she-budonian” outcries.
I believe they can still be redeemed and restored to the glory that once was. A reflection and image bearer of the maker of greatness beyond academic performance, social status and physical appearance.

I challenge the powers that be to step into the light and begin the healing . Take responsibility and change the status quo.

I challenge the young men riddled with adolescent burdens to find faith. Thrust your hope on the giver of rest. CHRIST.  That he may change you from within.
My father’s charge and gaze continue to inspire me to be more than just a statistic. They point me ,a Budonian, back to integrity , dignity and decency.
I pray I inspire those that come after me to look to the same.

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10157751746714064&id=678844063

It is a cute video right? tear jerking even.👆
it is incredible how much we can learn when we choose to see for a moment. See beyond the cuteness and the obvious adorableness for a moment.
Look more closely at all the characters and elements in the video. The staircase, the end of the staircase, baby1 and baby2, the guard rails, and the taker of the video(let’s call them guardian)
The Staircase:
I find it very descriptive of life as a journey. For me as a christian especially, this depiction is a very accurate and definite portrayal of the tedious, sometimes terrifying and always tasking tensions of this peregrination we call existence… With every step, grand or small, leading to the next… every experience, every opportunity, every advancement leading to another and on and on it goes.
As is with the staircase , all journeys, all excursions, all destinies come to an end. Each step of the way drawing closer to an inevitable destination.
Depending on one’s world view, the end could be a meaningless , chasm of nothingness, or a rewarding, inconceivable essence of beauty and glory . For a christian, it is the latter… it is God.

The Guard rails:
Notice how the rails not only keep the sojourners within the boundaries of the journey, but also help them along the way going from one step to another.. These rails go along with the tempestuous staircase till the very end. They were designed to protect, encourage and direct the little travellers right up to the very end of their quest.
what could be your guard rails? Could it be your parents, your teachers, your pastors , your spouse, your friends …even foes.. your misfortune or your advantage, your blessing or your curse… Whatever it may be, hold on tight to the guard rails that see you to the finish line.

The thing about the stairs and the rails, is that they were designed. Finely tuned to suit a purpose known most intimately by their creator.

The Guardian:
An intelligent being beyond imagining. Full of wonder and insight. A visionary and a sage. The very reason for existence lies between their ears. Their voice filled with courage and comfort. Their vast knowledge of the “staircase”, its guardrails, the destination and the reward fills one with hopeful glee in the face of giant steps. They in whom a helpless, vulnerable little being would place all trust and belief to climb all the staircases of life without a care in the world. The guardian. Yes. The encourager and the comforter, the visionary and the sage, the cheer leader and the coach, the Pilot and co pilot…
I am talking about Dad and Mom…
Yes.. they are one. They are the “guardian.”
This little earthling knows only this; the guardian made the stairs , created the guardrails, has been at the finish line and will be with them all the way to the top.(They have to. They are recording the whole thing)
My folks were this for me for a long time. They introduced me to an even greater transcendent Cause. The greatest of them all. The real hero of all time…

Baby 1 and Baby 2:
A Pure, innocent, selfless love journey.
One holds the other in hand and start the adventure with gleeful eagerness.
With no burden or weight of the world on their heart, one thing concerns them. To get up to the finish line together. Yes, TOGETHER . It’s like they knew they couldn’t do it by themselves. Like it wouldn’t matter how long they took on every step of this life of stairs, they were going to get to their destination together.
For them, the journey could have been the goal. Living it up as they go up. I can only imagine what great joy fills the guardian.
Pure souls with the grandest of affection. Affection expressed in little bundles of innocence and love. It is priceless..

The problem
Jesus, the greatest guardian that ever existed, said “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
Matthew 18:3 NIV
https://matthew.bible/matthew-18-3
He said these famous words to grown men that wanted for themselves more than the other.
What happens when we grow up and loose sight of what is important.?
The babies turn into little boys. The journey into a race. An adventure into a sport.. slowly losing sight …
The boys turn into men, the race into a battle , the sport into a rivalry ..slowly losing the fight …
Men turn on each other, darkness fills their hearts; wars ensue , hatred simmers, innocence lost… forever perhaps. Men chain themselves …slowly losing the light…
Guardians divorce, shepherds neglect, homes break, governments wreck …
Mothers abort, fathers abandon, the world abhors…
The rest  shrug… we sigh exclaiming “this is life. This is it”
It is a blood bath for the innocent, the pure of heart, the deserving ….
Little wonder Jesus died by this ordeal. A broken world. His blood price not for nothing though…
Look at the video again …
See Jesus at work in their innocent hearts
See life again…
See hope. See faith. See love.

I live in a country rich in culture and tradition. A country full of beauty and strength both in its nature and its people.

In the last fifty years, it has been riddled with enmity, wars,  hatred and calamity one after another in the vicious cycle of an excuse we call life. My country’s people have been divided by skin tone, nose shapes, tribal wars and cultural norms. It has abandoned it’s value systems that made humanity admirable and has adopted ideologies that promote animosity. 

Amidst this, as a believer in the transforming truth of the Bible,  one would think the church would have had the solutions when our presidents failed, and our rulers fled. The church would have brought people together under the umbrella of love. 

But No! Even the church hides its shame behind the shelter of religion, division,  and deception.  There, tribalism, sectarianism,  nepotism and heinous injustices are now accepted as part of the system.
‘its the way the world is!’ we hear the pulpits regurgitate the same old story the world has been screeming. There is hardly any repudiation of society’s follies because the church is too engrossed in the refuse to recognise the harm.
The church that should speak peace promotes hatred Where it should be silent we are most vocal. Where its voice should be heard the most, we are rendered mute.

Let me illustrate.
Recently, in the social media, all over the Internet and news blasts, one of our kings Oyo, of Toro kingdom, a young clueless man happened to have ‘disrespectfully ‘ (or so it would seem) addressed the Buganda kingdom’s priminister, (another king’s subject).
The details and facts as to whether this is verified as disdainful behavior by the king are scanty and all that is put out there is outrage and hypocritical accusations on a young king that is still quite frankly learning the ropes.(.hence the use of clueless.)
The Baganda both believers and alike have caused an uproar against the kings actions.
Tensions rising and the Toro die hards both believers and alike are fanning the flame of furry. This is causing more hatred and inciting cyber violence that can easily result into something worse. 

Where is the voice of the church?
The voice that should promote love and understanding! Respect and honor!

I call them hypocritical accusations because not too long ago, the kabaka of Buganda himself, with all due respect, had a child out of the official wedlock which in the law of the land, is called udultery! Yes I said it! Our beloved kabaka committed udultery in the eyes of the people of Uganda, and in the eyes of the Lord. To put it in a language we understand,  he Cheated on the Nabagereka of Buganda.

Where was the voice of the church then?
Don’t get me wrong. Yes I understand he is the kabaka and perhaps as some would like to think, he owns all the women in Buganda.
The irony here is that there is a social media uproar against an unverified mode of kingly conduct due to post-royal- adolescence confusion and then a celebration of another king’s infidelity because he has a son this time. This by the church and alike. The church was especially silent about the infidelity.

I can’t begin to describe what is repulsive about what I just said.
This is aside all the sexist, tribalistic and ethnocentric messages we are subtly sending our young children growing up in this horror.

I ask again, where is the voice of the church? Where is the voice of un udulterated truth? Where is the strength of goodness? Where is the power of love that cuts across borders and boldly brings hearts to repentance?
Where is the desire for transformational Christianity in a dying and decaying society?

May He raise a generation that knows no tribal or racial boundaries.
A generation after transformational truth.
A generation that will raise Uganda out of the divides of religion and sectarianism and usher it into the age of social justice, mercy and compassion.
Oh Uganda, May God uphold thee.

To those that carry burdens they can’t fathom

To those that have struggles through time
Their Strength weakened as it passed

To those that carry a light in their hearts but has been darkened by demons of their past, by the torment of their present and the bleakness of their future.

I submit to u the cross.
The representation of completion, the power of purpose, the mirror of mercy..
I submit the cross and its disdain of pain
I present the cross and its timely redemption.

To the women that claim this symbol
To those that stand by that hope of glory
To the women for whom God reveals himself. …

I submit your purpose
May your burdens be lifted
It is through you and only you that God has ordained the change of course for our nation. You are the mothers of our future.

See the men. See the king in them and they will lead… Not rule.
They will lead.
See the king in them. In your speech in your dressing in your conduct. .
See the King for they don’t know…
And those that know, exhort…

To the Women that hold our future
We.. the men… the few good men..
We Honor you…

“ I love you, but die you  must” the Judge told him as he wiped  his horn framed glasses to distract him from the obvious downcast appearance.
“ Isnt there any other way, My Lord? There Must!” I replied.
“ The Law is Law.  And the Law has condemned you. Die you Must! “

“But… [sob] … “

His phone rings… He throws dignity to the wind and desperately looks for it…

“where is it?” he mumbles with a shaky voice..  “ah yes…

Hello? … Is it done…. Is he…. And has he….” He slowly places his Phone down stands up straight, puts his Horn framed glasses on… slowly turns to see me and opens His blood-shot eyes…
“Son, You are free to Go”

The season has been ridiculed and mocked, shamed and shredded by many. The story behind it even more so! Just the other day My unbelieving friend felt it upon his heart to reserve the right to shame the message of the cross and the Man with it.  To his credit, his intelligible reasoning about the matter, though short-lived due to obvious limitations in his “faith-ometer”, are always of strong nudging to the more perceptive of our kind. They cause us to ask the really good but tough questions.
Why do we believe? Why do we celebrate? For what reason did I choose to follow Christ? Am I really following Christ?

We can only hope that those we consider lost( my friend and his kind) will in some way use whatever gusto they have in the arsenal of their  intelligence, wit and scientific acumen to find the Truth we have only believed by faith.

We believe in a boundless, limitless and timeless God.  One out of whose breath came all life and beauty.  All Creatures in the heavens and on the earth, He created in complete glory out of his perfect Goodness.

We believe he Made man, gave him life, gave him dominion and gave him Love.  Man was the crowning splendor of his wondrous handiwork. Man was made perfect and lacking nothing.

But man grew a darkness in his heart, we believe. The Apex of creation was corrupted.
There was only one thing to do to restore creation. One thing to reset time;
Man with his corruption MUST DIE!

But the master of heaven, conflicted by the his nature would not… could not…
It is said that He tried… Many times… But simply could not.
How could he? How could perfect Justice rival perfect Love? How could a loving God execute Judgment so severely and yet rightly!
From the Crevices of an unknown time… in darkness so grave it consumed life…
The Celestial King devised the greatest of antidotes. Himself!

Why? To reverse the most terminal of human disease! SIN!

It’s been asked.  What Happens when an immovable object meets an unstoppable force?

I ask now. What happens when Perfect Justice meets Boundless Love?

The Answer: J.E.S.U.S.

I have been known to be cheesy and corny and perhaps this is my M.O … I stopped fighting it and embraced whatever it was I was being called. I just hated the gag looks I got and the ‘shoot-me-now’ thoughts I could see bouncing back and forth in peoples brains as they read my cheese!( FYI, it is really hard to hide those thoughts)

I was going down the spiral of self-discovery and trying to figure out what I was about when my life took a sudden turn.   You see, as a young man trying to fit into society after countless battles lost and worn within me, I had found a semblance of identity in the arts. I was getting the hang of singing,(though there were those better than me) I had subdued the art of acting( few matched me, I must say) and had masterfully hidden my insecurities behind an array of niceness, amiability and courteousness based on no other foundation but impressions. Yes, I made sure that if you didn’t know me, I would leave an unforgettable mark when I walked away from you – and by “you” here, I mean the ladies. I didn’t care much for the lads.

That afternoon, I had done the first show of what would later be called the epic start of our church’s Easter productions. It was that day that changed it all. She met Yours Truly on the Stage. I was acting as Jesus our savior. She came up to me after the production and we exchanged pleasantries. Being the celebrity I was, It didn’t mean much meeting new faces. But hers, I couldn’t forget.

Later on, along the corridors of the university halls, on the stone walks, we met up and there was a way she called me “Jesus” that didn’t register as the master of old. No. It sounded different every time she hollad out my Lords name… yet calling me!   I finally really took note of her after a prayer meeting under the mango tree near the chapel at the university. She had her nails done and her smile brighter! Her personality expelled fresh and unconventional humor. She was the moon on that starless night… and many nights after that!

I visited her room later that semester as we had grown to be acquaintances. She had invited me to come up to see her. She lived in what seemed like the top of a tower, which after climbing 10,000 flights of stairs felt like I had battled a fiery dragon and endless booby traps…

Months later, I am looking at her seated in my little car and I cant believe she feels this way for me. You see, in her unconventional geek like life, she had opened my eyes to a world of possibilities. Most importantly, she made me feel like I didn’t have to change a thing to be noticed by her. I discovered that I could be whoever I was and it was ok. She loved me.

Years later, with a few hiccups in the way, the principle still is the same. The girl still is the same! And today, I celebrate another one of those important days. I look back at the first time I celebrated that day and I am in awe…

What she saw in me that I never thought I had, I see now. She peeled back the layers of my niceness and courteousness (sometimes painfully) and revealed to me exactly Who God had purposed me to become. She saw right through the lies of my personality and saw the reality (sometimes frightening) of what I was.

To the woman that saw the King in me, long before I knew my royalty,

To the woman that Honors my passion and purity,

To the woman that puts the grays in my black and White,

To the Woman that knows me…

To Lynn Kirabo
Happy birthday.

One of the most painful things that sin brings about in our hearts is unforgiveness.  Unforgiveness is basically the decision to hold someone to a debt after they have hurt you. What has spurred me to write about it is the sudden realisation that Jesus Christ had a very serious and real point about unforgiveness in a little parable that he told. But a quick illustration before taking a look at the parable.

Recently, I was watching an American series called ‘The Good Wife’. It follows a married couple whose lives spin out of control after the husbands infidelity with a woman goes public. So after two years of ups and downs, they eventually start to  rebuild their marriage.

Then at the end of season two, she finds out that there was another woman he cheated with in the years past. So she kicks him out of the house. And the venom in between the couple rapidly builds. The man wants to reconcile, but the wife’s heart has hardened after all the pain she had gone through.

Right after this, her two teenage kids are feeling really confused. So her only daughter visits her at work. They enter the family car and have a really touching exchange. We jump into the conversation after her daughter asks why they can’t get back together.

Mom : “I am hurting”
Daughter : “Can’t Dad help you with that?”
Mom : “No”
Daughter : “But Dad is hurting too!”

This scene kind of sumed up the unfortunateness of the whole situtation. Two hurting people divided by unforgiveness that stands between them. Now, that was just an acted scene. But in real life, this is the kind of stuff that happens. People that loved each other suddenly turn into the most bitter of enemies. And they become completely blinded to each others feelings and the pain of those caught in their brawl.

Friends, workmates and even people who serve in church are not spared from this kind of pain and suffering. So is there a solution? Escpecially for those called to live for Christ. But first we have to clarify what unforgiveness does to us. And I think Christ captured it wonderfuly in a parable commonly known as the patable of the unforgiving servant.

Matthew 18:21-29, 31-35 NKJV
Then Peter came to Him and said, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.  Therefore the kingdom of heaven is like a certain king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants.  And when he had begun to settle accounts, one was brought to him who owed him ten thousand talents.  But as he was not able to pay, his master commanded that he be sold, with his wife and children and all that he had, and that payment be made.  The servant therefore fell down before him, saying, ‘Master, have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’  Then the master of that servant was moved with compassion, released him, and forgave him the debt. “But that servant went out and found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii; and he laid hands on him and took him by the throat, saying, ‘Pay me what you owe!’  So his fellow servant fell down at his feet and begged him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’  So when his fellow servants saw what had been done, they were very grieved, and came and told their master all that had been done.  Then his master, after he had called him, said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you begged me.  Should you not also have had compassion on your fellow servant, just as I had pity on you?’  And his master was angry, and delivered him to the torturers until he should pay all that was due to him. “So My heavenly Father also will do to you if each of you, from his heart, does not forgive his brother his trespasses.”

After reading this, I get the picture the unforgiveness does two things. Firstly, it turns us into what we hate. And then it blocks us off from God’s forgiveness. Generally speaking, when you make the choice to not forgive someone, your heart hardens and you end up releasing that pain and hatred to those around you.

Then it cuts us off from God’s forgiveness simply because by refusing to forgive, we attempt to cling to God’s mercy while being unmerciful to others. And closing off our hearts the forgiveness only God can give causes us to fall further from God’s illuminating light.

Now all that fancy talk aside, can we forgive people after they have hurt us? Because that is what it comes down to. All the sweet words from the Bible would mean nothing if we could never live them out.

Now, I don’t know if I am qualified to speak over anyones life. But someone who died for the sins of the world is. And if he says that we should forgive. Then I know God has placed in us the potential to cancel the debts we are owed.

Jesus doesn’t say that you should just drop it. The weight of the debt owed us when we are sinned against is acknowledged. But only that we let God pay out of his riches instead of demanding our pound of flesh.

I don’t know what you are going through. But whatever it is, please choose first to forgive.

Let’s pray;
Dear God, this is a hard thing for our stubborn hearts. Please help us forgive as you have forgiven us.
Amen

Uganda has these little insects called mosquitoes in plenty. They make a rather annoying sound when they pass close to your ear that can wake you up from even the sweetest slumber. And they suck blood. Nothing like a friendly neighbourhood spider.

One of the little creatures fell upon me one night and decided to get their nourishment from my bloodstream. In the porcess, it gave me a disease commomly known as malaria. It kills in 24 hours by destroying your red blood cells and burning you out with fever.

So as I lay down in bed feeling weak and feverish, the thought of how fragile my life is came very clearly into my mind. The life we are blessed with withouth asking for it and that is taken from us when we least expect it.  And according to some people, behind the veil of death lies the great nothing. Because when you ask the dead, they say nothing.

Fear is the feeling that best fit with the situtation I was in. Yet I felt something different. For the first time in my life, I was sick with Christ at my bedside. Trusting him like a child who leans on her father’s strong shoulders. Having faith that it would hold her up.

God had been present in the fullness of reality too much for me to miss the obvious. That while so many people do not know what is behind the Great Wall of the grave, he knows. And as someone who accepted his son, my perspective had to be stretched to the eternal.

Heaven is the word we use. It brings about imagery of gold paved streets and angels playing harps. But I think there is something more about heaven that perhaps had not occured to me before. The constant sense of peace with God and our fellow man. Where relationships find their completeness.

When my time comes, I will let go of this life. Maybe it will be quick, sudden, violent. Maybe people will say I died too young. Or it will be slow and all the right ‘goodbyes’ will be said in time. And at my funeral one person I love will comment on how I have lived a ‘full’ life. But among the crowd, believers and disbelievers alike will get a sneaking suspision that haunts us all our lives on earth. The silent voice that reminds us death is not the end of life. But a coma in an eternal story.

God bless you. I am off to take my medication. : )

Let’s pray;

Dear God,
Help us see you for how you love us and desire for us to choose you.
In your hands is life in all its fullness.
Amen

John 14:19-20 NKJV
“A little while longer and the world will see Me no more, but you will see Me. Because I live, you will live also.  At that day you will know that I am in My Father, and you in Me, and I in you.