He makes all things beautiful

When I was still a little boy there were no better times that I enjoyed than being in church. We were living in Kabale back then. In fact, I wanted to become like Fr. Wence, the popular priest who led Sunday Mass in a classic singsong voice. Fr. Wence also had a red Wolkswagen Beetle that made me the envy of my peers when he gave my father and I a lift in it one day.

Fr. Wence's Beetle

When my father was transferred to Bushenyi, I entertained the idea of joining St. Mukasa Preparatory Seminary, Mushanga – the only foundation I knew of any boy who wanted to become a priest.  But as I was born in "sin" (out of wedlock), the school could not admit me, and just like that my cherished dream went with the wind.

Secondary school life soon knocked on my door, with it the adrenaline of teenage life. It was time to run after girls, jump threw windows in the thick of darkness to go dancing, and generally do crazy things crazy adolescents do.

The next thing I knew, I was a university student at Makerere, doing a radio show on Campus FM, and writing a small newspaper column in The Monitor newspaper called Campus Beat which captured the craziest and snazziest of university life. I was basically a celebrity, and a point of reference as far as applying what we were being taught in the journalism class was concerned.

Doing a show at Campus FM where I was a student presenter

But not even the money and status I was frolicking in as a handsome young man of enviable talent could fill the hole in my heart.  Happiness was elusive. So was inner peace. One dark Sunday, I sat long in my room staring at my haggard and crooked silhouette on the wall. Before me, on an open page of my journal were two words: "a whip." It was my summary description of life!

I was fed up of the emptiness and general rootlessness, fleshly lusts and the aggravating fantasies that clomoured in my despairing heart. I could not understand how I could feel so alone in a gigantic world filled with over six billion people.

Longing for something to quiet the tumult of my spirit, I took a stroll in the direction of some vibrant beats until I found myself in front of Mitchell Hall where a crusade was taking place. When the music stopped, a bearded preacher with a voice that amplified like super subwoofers, stepped to the podium and started preaching hyper-actively.

Paradoxically, I don't remember what his sermon was about but when he made the alter call, I stepped forward. I knew was it was time to forget worldly allurements and embrace the Lord. I knew that my pillow would no longer be drenched by my secret tears night after night.  I knew without any shadow of doubt that the joy of the Lord was going to become mine.

It's been years since that day. I have had my moments of weakness but I am not the seed that fell among thorns and choked out the tender blades after germination. The Lord blotted out my transgressions according to His loving kindness and renewed the right spirit within me like David of old. The silhouette on my wall is no longer haggard and crooked. 

But even more, the Lord who grants the desires of our hearts has revived my childhood dream—in a different way. I am a first year student of Theology at Glad Tidings Bible College, and this is just the beginning of Jesus Christ my Lord and Saviour making all things beautiful in His time.