A time to build (?)

I celebrated Easter on a grassy lawn in northern Kampala. Kampala Pentecostal Church hosted a single Easter celebration for its various branches and services. Literally thousands of lawn chairs were set up for the event, all facing a temporary stage that provided height and shade for the speakers and the choir. Balloons and ribbons decorated the area where we sang, clapped, fanned and danced.

During the service, the pastor announced that the church will be raising funds to build a church on the very hill upon which we sat. This was not an unusual or uncommon church announcement. Every single American church that I had ever attended on a regular basis had solicited funds for (usually, multi-million-dollar) building projects. Every single one of those churches had existing buildings that were functional and adequate for the humble business of gathering and worshipping God. But it was nevertheless deemed necessary to indebt the congregation for the next few decades for unnecessary or cosmetic improvements. For all the talk about our obligations to our less fortunate brethren overseas, these building projects were prioritized.

Sitting under the hot sun in an open field, this familiar announcement struck a different chord. I thought of a church that I had visited in my first month here; its building was basically a dirt area enclosed by sheets of aluminum. I recalled the conversation with the pastor of that church, who shared his hopes to erect a sturdier building and the struggle to raise approximately $130,000 for that purpose. Raising funds to build a building where none exists or to replace one that can hardly withstand a strong wind… Well, that sounds downright reasonable.

So far, my transient lifestyle has coincidentally moved me out of town right about the time building projects were initiated. Thus, I’ve been afforded the luxury of being critical about building projects without the responsibility of voicing my objections. But I know I’ll settle somewhere someday. And when a seemingly unnecessary building campaign comes my way, I wonder if I will have the strength of conviction to speak aloud my objections. Or will I stay quiet because I’m comfortable, because I want the fancy new things, because I want to get along, not move along? Will I convince myself that resistance is futile, acquiesce and hope for the best - hope that perhaps my church is the exception and the proposed improvements are somehow essential, that perhaps this rich man won’t be held to account for the Lazarus left wanting at his gate?