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I sit on the floor every night to pray, and there was nothing different about this night. I sat down with my legs crossed and simply started to pray. At some point, I lost track of time and in my mind I saw a group of dark-skinned kids, heads shaven and wearing purple. I didn't really know what this meant at the time, but it stayed seared in my mind. A year later I was praying, legs crossed on the floor, and I couldn't get Africa out of my head. I started researching; scouring Google for stuff on Africa. This article was pulled up and I couldn't believe what I read, there was an estimated amount of 20 million orphans in Africa and that was just estimation. I remembered the headlines of the nineteen seventies about Idi Amin, the ruthless African dictator that had slaughtered so many of his own people. A little later in that history, AIDS began to ravage the country, and now there were all of these children beat down by war and disease without fathers or mothers. It was clear these kids were certainly "the least of the these" and arguably the "least of the least of these." I had just finished reading the article when my daughter ran upstairs, "Dad, guess what mom and I did today?" Before I could guess she said excitedly, "we adopted this kid from Africa!" My wife had connected with an agency that was well established in taking care of the fatherless in Africa, and we began to talk and wonder if Riverside had any piece in what God was doing over in Africa. I pulled two others aside the following Sunday and I told them about the image of the kids with shaved heads wearing purple, the 20 million orphans, and how I couldn't get Africa off of my brain. They listened and walked away. Then, about six months later, there was a growing ground swell of people who had their prayers turned toward Africa. They accumulated enough for a team to go and see what, if any, role we had. My wife was on that team and I was going to stay home with my legs crossed, in prayer. I prayed the day they left and I couldn't sleep that night. I was heavy, and there was plenty to be heavy about; having your wife in a war torn, disease ravaged, impoverished country with little but a backpack and some sandals. I wasn't sleeping for that first week; I kept praying. I kept focusing on the image and the "least of these," until one day I felt I heard "these are the children." The clock said 5:00am, which means it would have been the evening in Africa. I didn't know whom the "these were," so I figured I would call my wife. "Where did you guys go today?" I asked her, remembering the prayer. "We are in Iganga at a place called New Grace. These kids are all from this northern tribe. They are wearing these purple sheets." The image from a little over a year prior to the phone conversation I was having with my wife reappeared. At the time, I didn't even know they were orphans, but now it was all weaving together. I saw the pictures once the team returned home, and there they were with shaved heads clothed in purple. Those were the children. There wasn't anything particularly different about that night I sat down with my legs crossed on the floor, so far as I could see. It was just a prayer and a year later I was holding pictures of actual kids, heads shaven clothed in purple.
To learn more about our ministry in Africa, email us at connect@connect2riverside.com