Finding God in the desert

First impression of the Southern Sudan?

Hot, 100 degrees.

The bishop, clergy, a driver, an armed escort, a returning exile and five missioners all hovered under the bush plane's wing while two young men piled our luggage into a small truck. Ten of us bundled into the van and we began the first of many bumpy rides.

Next impression?

Thirsty, everyone, everywhere. Dry. Women and girls are walking the dusty roads with five-gallon jugs of water on their heads.

Whenever we arrived, be it on time or two hours late, several dozen singing, dancing, joyful people greeted us. They carried the flag of the Episcopal Church, cut branches of flowers and, yes, palm fronds. The first stop is at the Bishop's compound.

We pause for prayer at the beautiful tomb for his beloved, recently deceased wife. We pass by the rubble of his brick home, a bombing casualty of the 21-year civil war. The singers escort us into the church, where we are formally introduced. In turn, we each stand.

"My name is Father Bob Towner. I am a pastor and a teacher in the Diocese of Missouri, and I bring greetings in the name of Christ from Christ Episcopal Church, from Southeast Missouri State University and the City of Cape Girardeau." Applause. They seem thrilled we cared enough to come in person.

They lead us to the guest compound, where we meet those who will care for us. Rick the carpenter is my roommate in a 10-by-10 "tukel," our home, with walls of sun-baked mud and a roof of thick grass thatch. It just fits two beds and our bags. I hang a clothesline from the ceiling, find a water bottle and emerge to explore this new world.

We begin to wonder what we will do. On most days our team will be visiting the congregations in other villages. We are bringing a covenant, a solemn series of promises exchanged between these Moru tribal Anglicans and the Missouri Episcopalians we represent. We are exploring the ways in which we can learn from one another. I can sense that we Americans will be bringing wealth, knowledge and worldly experience to the relationship. The Africans will be bringing the strength, the faith, the courage and the hope. Fair deal? God knows what we need.

On Friday, I stay in Lui and explore the church's hospital complex. It all begins with spirited worship. Physicians (all missionaries), nurses, orderlies, administrators, patients and their families all begin the day together with song and a short sermon.

Amazing progress is being made. The new nursing school is a fine building. But the two-year-old dispensary already has fault lines cracking the concrete walls. The wards, about twice the size of a room at Southeast Missouri Hospital, each contain a dozen small iron beds with thin, sagging mattresses. The staff is proud. This hospital is so well known for its fine medical care that people come from as far north as Khartoum.

The sick children are hard to look upon and impossible to turn away from. The Moru are strong, beautiful and very black. But these children are tiny, frail, with almost blonde hair due to malnutrition. Ninety-five percent of the children in Lui are malnourished. Franklin Graham, Billy's son, is funding this hospital work, and anyone can contribute by visiting the Samaritan's Purse Web site.

I will be teaching a group of youth leaders. One man and one woman from each of the seven regions, each in charge of leading the youth programs in four or five congregations, many of which have mission preaching stations in even smaller, more remote villages.

These young leaders are on their way now, walking from the same villages our deputation is driving to, some 19 miles, some 35 or 40. Since it is always sunny and never less than 100 degrees, they will try to walk much of the way overnight. I am not prepared. I have no handouts, no power-point. No blackboard.

We have brought notebooks and pens, which are eagerly received. We sing and pray and read scripture and introduce one another. My youth group has sent pictures, biographies and little gifts which I use to make prayer partnerships. Now what shall we do together?

They have a deep desire to learn more about the Bible. They say, through Joseph, the translator, they know the meaning of the words, and now they want to know how to mine the deep meanings of those words. It turns out that Joseph, who is a nurse, is the son of Morris. Morris is the one who typed the first three copies of a Moru translation of the Bible, with an old manual typewriter, no carbon paper.

I have three days with them before they walk home. What, with God's help, will they carry home with them to share with those children?

The Rev. Bob Towner is pastor of Christ Episcopal Church in Cape Girardeau.