Years ago, we launched a campus in Uganda.
It was bold. And for a while, beautiful.
Born out of a dream to bring Christ, hope, and empowerment to a place that deserved far more than the world was giving it. We had a group of people that wanted to “multiply” West on the other side of the world. We wanted to walk alongside people. To build something that mattered. Something rooted in love, not charity. Dignity, not dependence.
And it was beautiful. For a time.
Yet – over time, something shifted.
The mission — the whole reason we started — got fuzzy. Lines blurred. Power dynamics crept in. And what was supposed to be a partnership started to feel… transactional. Self-serving. Like the spotlight slowly moved from “How can we serve?” to “What can we gain?”
More than once, despite my coaching, and finally warnings, it became, “What more are you going to give me?”
Even today, it’s hard to admit that. It’s hard to look at something that started with so much hope and say, “This didn’t turn out the way we prayed it would.”
I also prayed it would be a “good” goodbye. That they’d understand. They’d go their way and we’d go ours.
When that didn’t happen, I at least hoped over time, it would fade.
I’ve been wrong on all counts.
Just last week, I received a “demand” for a job recommendation.
I’ve finally simply stopped replying to ANY communication because it never goes well. This email was no exception. There’s no way I’d recommend that person for a job.
And apparently, that made them VERY angry.
So much so that they wrote AGAIN, telling me how I made them lose the job.
They signed the email . . .
“Bless your heart.”
I have a temper. Not something that I am proud of and most of the time I keep it in check. But every now and then, something happens that ignites it.
My getting an email telling me to “bless my heart” after the years of assistance, help, and love we gave – it did not sit well.
One of the things Jesus teaches us during Holy Week is this:
Sometimes love flips tables.
When Jesus walked into the Temple and saw that the sacred had been twisted — turned into profit and performance — He didn’t smile and say, “Well, bless their hearts, they’re trying.” He got angry. Not petty angry. Righteous angry.
When the mission becomes about “me” instead of “we,” something holy is lost.
And maybe that’s what happened in Uganda. The mission got hijacked. Greed took the wheel. And instead of healing, it started to do harm.
But naming that isn’t failure. It’s growth.
It’s a chance to re-center. To course correct. To say out loud: “That wasn’t it. That’s not who we are.”
And it reminds me to ask hard questions about my own life. Perhaps it can for you, too.
Where have I made something sacred into something selfish?
Where has my desire to help turned into a desire to control?
Where do I need to flip a table and say, “No more — not like this”?
Jesus wasn’t afraid to stir things up when love was on the line.
Neither should we.
Grace and Peace,
Andrea