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“Chosen 1” -- joint sermon by Peter Mutabazi of World Vision and Pastor Caleb Campbell(Caleb) I'm going to ask my friend Peter to join us here. He's going to share a little bit about his story. Would you guys just welcome him? Make sure he feels welcome today. Peter, thanks so much for being here. We look forward to hearing what you have to share with us today. (Peter)Thanks. My name is Peter – Mutabazi. As you can tell already, I've got a different accent. English is my fourth language, so I don't quite speak it well. I warn you that if I say something bad, please, you can throw your iPhone at me, and I'll take it home with me. But it is truly a blessing to be here.My name is Peter Mutabazi. My dad is from Ghana, and my mom is from Uganda. But I live in Charlotte, NC. That's where I've been for a while. And as I really get to share my story, you get to see where I come from and how we got here, as well.On behalf of my family and half of the kids in Uganda kids in Ethiopia, we want to say thank you -- especially to your pastor for giving us an option to share today. I heard that we heard some little ones with us today, so please bear with me. I will try to do my best to make sure that I can involve you, as well. My community is Charleston, North Carolina. I love it. I was schooled here in the United States, and I get to work here. Actually, I just became a US citizen. So finally, finally I can vote, right. But today I'm here as an employee of World Vision.World Vision has been here for more than 70 years. They work in more than 100 countries, and as we speak, they're actually trying to help the people affected by what's happening in Europe. But today I'm here for special little ones. When I came to United States, I really struggled with two things that I'm about to share with you.One, I came from a place where I never heard about a place to choose a meal for the day. And when I came here, I saw how much food there was, and how much food that was thrown away. And I questioned my faith. Does God love us the same way? Does he know that someone else can die for lack of nutrientsAnd the other is for little ones that I hear. I know sometimes you open that fridge and yell at mum, “Mum, there's no food here,” when the fridge is full. I'm not trying to rebuke you, but to remind you that you are blessed.Then I'll go visit homes, and you find these gigantic homes. But most of them were empty I come from -- a place where 90% of my people are living in a home the size of your car garage. Not just two people, but seven to twelve. In just that tiny place, and I wondered how could there be so many empty rooms? But as I read the Scripture, I was really stuck with Luke 12:48, “To who much is given, much is required.” And I knew I had been given so much and I wanted to be a conduit for what I had been given.So one morning I walked into social services and I said, “Hey, I'm here, and I would like to mentor teenagers.” The reason why I asked for mentoring, was because I thought, “I'm a single guy. There's no way they can allow me to be a foster parent”. So I walked in, and the social work said, “Have you ever thought of being a foster dad?” And I said, “I don't qualify, and she said, “So....” I signed up to be a foster dad that day.I had been given so much, and it was my time to do it for God's glory. So since then, I've had twenty children. Today I would like to share with you the four that I have adopted. I have one now, and I'm in the process of adopting three more that I have at my house. So I'm about to share with you about really my journey as a foster dad. So let's go to picture number one. You can see my family. There's my family, and I thought, wait a minute, you can have children and dogs, as well. So now we have two dogs. Next picture, please.That's my smart little boy. He's five years old and he's unique in his own way. Every time I take him to bed, he always says, “Dad, I love you so much.” For that little one to call me Dad is the greatest thing I can ask for.Next, the sister. She's six years old. I have no hair, but I can tell you my hair has been walked on every day. I thought I was the head of the family, but she came and I'm no longer. I lost that. And I love her to death, as well. Every time I pick up from school, she always says, “Dad, I'm happy that you came to get me.Next picture, please. He just turned 18. Twelve months ago, I got a phone call from a social worker, and he said, “Peter, could you take in this kid for 12 days?” Well, I had 12 days, but he meant 12 months. I said, “I don't know but I can try.” So I took him in, because he was about to age out.He came in four weeks later. He told me he wanted to talk to me. When a foster kid says, “Hey, I want to talk to you and it's really serious,” you always panic. What is he gonna say? This is what he said he said. “I've been in 12 homes. I've been here for four weeks. Would you mind adopting me? So we're in the process of adopting this little one from 12 homes. This one is Anthony. But one thing they didn't train me how to say goodbye. So two had left on Monday, and I told the social worker, “I can't do this. I need a break.” But she called me on Friday, anyway. And I said, “Please, why now?”“To save this little boy at the hospital, do you mind giving him just the weekend?”I said, “I can give him a weekend, and if you don't pick him up on Monday, you're gonna find him waiting for you on the porch.” And he came at three in the morning as soon as the social worker left. He looks at me, and I say, “Hey, my name is Peter Mutabazi, but you can call me Peter because it'll be easier.” And he looks at me, he said, “But can I call you my dad?” To which I said, no way. He was there for just the weekend. Why should he call me Dad?So they came to pick him up on Monday. And finally, I had the guts to why he was in the system. He'd be in the system when he was one and a half. He was placed with a family at the age of four. They adopted him at 11. They had dropped him at the hospital, never said goodbye, never gave him reason why they didn't want him anymore. And I said, “He already knows, as he already called me Dad.” I'm sure he knew of his dad. And so I said, “I can take him to school tomorrow.” Two years ago, he finally became my official son, Anthony Mutabazi. Most people say, well, he's lucky to have you. No, I'm lucky to have him, for he chose me to be his dad and I'll forever be grateful for him. So as you listen, you might wonder, how did you come from Africa to start fostering, and you're in the process of adopting more. Like how do you do it? Or how did you get there? Well, today I want to share with you about too many, so many little ones in Ethiopia. As you listen to my story, you wiill hear the stories of the kids in Ethiopia today. I've got one picture to show you. While I was in Ethiopia, I got to meet lots of them who are looking for someone to love them. So today as you hear my story, I want to take the picture or your mind to these ones in Ethiopia that your church truly loves so much today. As a kid, I grew up in Uganda where life was miserable. I grew up in a place where no one told me to dream, not once. I grew up in a home where we were lucky to have a meal for a day. I grew up in a home where I was told every day that I would never amount to anything. I grew up in a home where I went to fetch water like so many kids in Ethiopia, 3 to 4 miles a day, twice. I grew up in a home where life was just on a daily basis. If a mom can't feed you for a day, how does she tell you to dream? How does she tell you have a future?Well, that was me as a little boy. At the age of four, I began to realize that not only were poor, but also that my dad was the most abusive dad you could think of. So on one side you have a mean dad. On the other side you have poverty that could take your life. For the kids who are here, I wish I could ask you how many pairs of shoes you have. I had my first pair of shoes when I was 16 years old. I had two pairs of clothes -- one for Monday to Saturday, and one for Sunday. I'm not rebuking you, but I'm just reminding you of how God loves you. You can turn on the faucets and get some water. These little ones in Ethiopia don't have that opportunity.And so, at age of 10, I thought, “I cannot let my dad take my own life.” I decided to walk to the bus station, and I asked the lady which bus went the farthest. I went 500 miles away from my village. I had one choice. One choice was to be a street kid. As street kids we could not beg for money. Where I come from, people don't make a dollar a day as a wage. So you don't beg for money. But you work hard, and that's how I learned to survive.And street kids, we were used as anything you could think of, called every name you could think of, living on the streets. I was more of a street animal than a human being. On the streets, I was lucky if I could make it an hour without abuse. It was different though, because I was being abused by people who did not know me, rather than someone who should have been my protector. And as street kids we worked so hard on the street. So one day I helped a family. It was easier to steal what you're helping, because they would not notice if you took a banana. Come on, they're not gonna know. So this time I saw a farm and I want to take something from them. And before I could take it, he said, what is your name? Here's why it's important here. I had been on the streets for four years. No one at one point ever said, “What is your name?” I was garbage. I was trash. I would never amount to anything. I was an animal to most people. But this man, who did not know me, wanted to know what my name is.You don't know the kids in Ethiopia, but today your pastor Caleb would say we wanna know where they come from. We want to know how their lives are. We want you to tell us the story of the kids in Ethiopia. That's how I felt when this man said, what's your name? He fed me the next week. By the fourth week, I always knew I would have a free meal that I didn't have to strive for. He fed me for one year and a half.So, finally he said, “Hey Peter, if you have an opportunity go to school, would you like to? Go to school?” It was strange. It's like me asking you guys if anyone wants to go the moon. Anyone here? Exactly, you're laughing. Because it's far-fetched. It's not something you live every day. But he insisted that I would go to school. He said there would be a meal for me every day. There would be a meal? And so finally, I went to school. And the reason why I went -- it wasn't because I wanted to be anything at all.No one had ever told me that. It's not that I wanted to be a teacher or anything. There was no one in my family that I wanted to be like. No, it's not like I was smart in any way, shape, or form. All my life, I was told I would never mount anything. But I did go for one reason. For the very first time in my life, someone saw me as a human being. At 16, someone saw potential where I could not see my own. At 16, someone saw a little kid that deserved to be treated like a human being. At 16, he saw potential in me. And that's why I went to school.And as he drove me into school, I wanted to know why, why me, why me? And that's the reason I'm asking you Caleb, why Ethiopia? And this what he said, “I want to be faithful.” I did not understand the language. I didn't understand what he meant, but he said, “I want to be faithful.” And I said, “To who?” And he said, “To my God.”And that's what you're doing as a church for the kids in Ethiopia -- that this man didn't see a smelling little boy, that this man didn't see a thief, that this man did not call me any names, This man would change a boy’s life. And so is your church. Yes, you know Ethiopia. Yes, you love those people. But today, you get to love them as the Lord loves them. And here's the cool thing. There were more than 1000 kids on the streets of Kampala. He could not take them all, for sure. He picked one, and that one happened to be me. I know there are many places you could go. But this week, this year, you said we want to know the kids in Ethiopia. We're grateful for that. And I promise you, your faithfulness will be known. This guy was faithful. He's what changed my life -- because he was faithful.I stayed at school more than one day. Because he was faithful, I stayed and finished high school, then I went to university in Uganda, and then I went to university in England. And that's how I came to United States -- because he was faithful. Because he was faithful, my family got to know the Lord as their Lord and Savior. Especially my mum. Why? She wondered, “How can a stranger love my child as their own?” Caleb said, “I want to get to know what is about to happen in Ethiopia.” Why would someone in Phoenix want to love me? But knowing that you're part of the local church, it puts question marks on who your God is. Because He was faithful, I was able to learn how to forgive my dad. He will always teach me about the life of Joseph of the Old Testament. You know when the brothers found him, they were scared and afraid. But remember what he said? He said, “What you meant for evil, God has used it for good, to save lives.” And that's why I advocate for kids. Because he was faithful.I don't think I would be able to understand the trauma our kids go through had I not walked that journey with my father. And it's taught me how to be the best -- I'm not the best dad -- but for sure, I just know that I didn't want to be my own dad. Because this man taught me what a father ought to be to the most vulnerable, the most needy. Because he was faithful, I'm able to have a job for sure -- to share my journey. So guys, you see why Luke 12:48 is important to me. “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded. And from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” I have been entrusted with much. We have been entrusted with much, haven't we?For you little ones, think about little ones like you somewhere in a different country, who can never choose one type of meal. I grew up in a home where I had beans and potatoes. We could not have both, because we could not afford both. It would have beans today and, hopefully, tomorrow we get to have that potato. I grew up in a place where I knew Christmas was all about chicken. Because it was the only time we had chicken. You're about to go through Lent. On Easter it would have been beef. I grew up in a Roman Catholic family, so those are the only two days in my entire life in a year that we would have a different meal.And I'm not rebuking you -- just showing that you when you go home to your mom, when you open that fridge, say to your mom, “I don't like the food in there, but I'm grateful you get to buy it.” That's what the kids in Ethiopia cannot do, and that's what we here at World Vision are trying to say. How can we inspire others to truly give them an opportunity to dream like someone gave me? To love me unconditionally.But I also have to learn to love unconditionally. I mean, you saw my kids. We don't look alike at all. But man, I am their dad every day. And so my kids, we sponsor 12 kids. Anthony, my son, sponsors a little boy in Uganda who's an orphan. And they get to write each another, and I usually say why did he write this farm dad. He is growing potatoes. And he has a chicken, too.That's why you're here today. With $39 a month, he gets to sp…
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