Roger
I admit
it. Some of the luster and adventure of traveling deep into an African
village one more time can wear off. As the morning started out, I find
I’m not as excited as I would have been years ago about being squished
with four people into a back seat that barely fits three, jostling along
the rutted dirt roads for miles on end that make my bottom feel like a
punching bag, with the sun beginning to beat down indicating that it
will be another toasty day. Knowing that I will spend the day underneath
a tin roof in a brick room with few windows and little ventilation, and
knowing that the bathroom facilities will be marginal, at best, I find
myself starting to have just a small glimmer of a poor attitude.
But two things shake me out of
it. First, I am reminded of the excitement and enthusiasm the Africans
have that keeps me coming back. They often respond with the kind of
comments that let me know that these young men and women ‘get it.’ They
eat up the training we provide and they work tirelessly in the harvest
field wanting to see every person and every neighbor rescued by the love
of God. It’s hard not to be lifted by their appreciation and
willingness to give their lives for the Kingdom.
And
then there is the second thing. When I get my eyes off of myself and my
poor bottom, I gaze out the window with a little more attention. I see
women hauling firewood for miles, a daily chore. I see a six-year-old
carrying her sibling, not much smaller than herself, on her back as they
trek along behind their mother in the hot sun. I see other children
playing, seemingly happy, but their hair is tinged with red because they
have not had adequate nutrition. I see men working in fields trying to
support their children who are wearing nothing but a torn shirt. I see
hard working, persistent people living with hardship far greater than I
could ever imagine. I am humbled, to say the least.
I begin to pull myself out of
my tiny pity party and wonder how I could allow my slight discomfort to
even compare to their challenges, and I am embarrassed that I am
enduring so little for such a short time while they exhibit such
fortitude for a lifetime.
As the awareness of how trivial
my minor discomforts are, I find myself riding out the bumps and turns
that are jostling me with much greater contentment and I begin to see
the wonder, once again, of where I am and what I am doing. I am in awe
that I get to travel 12,000 miles to be with precious people who have
never seen a big city or a skyscraper, and share life together with
them. I get to put something into their lives and, just as much if not
more so, I get to receive something from their single-minded commitment
to love God and live wholeheartedly for Him. I find myself, once again,
feeling excited and privileged to get to walk this faith journey with
them as friends and partners.
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