“Embrace the uncomfortable” is the World Race’s unofficial motto.
That’s why when we arrived at our host’s in Ethiopia, I was surprised. Our lodge has porcelain toilets, warm showers, and beds with sheets. We have wifi. We have women who cook all of our meals and clean for us. This might be better than my life in America.
On top of that, we are in the middle of nowhere—in “the bush” of Africa. It’s the kind of place you see on Pinterest and talk about going “some day,” unblemished by the marks of civilization. You can see the savannah stretch for miles. Cattle roam freely in the long grass. At night, the stars are so clear that you can see the Milky Way. It is God’s beauty, uninterrupted.
“The World Race makes me skeptical of being comfortable,” I told my teammate, Anissa. She agreed. We were trained to expect the worst of conditions, but I was already feeling comfortable. I was hesitant to accept the good fortune that this is our life for the next month, but decided to be thankful and embrace all of the blessings that the Lord had gifted us with.
This morning, we went to a local church. We walked through the “town” to get there, which consisted of a few clusters of stick huts, dirt roads, and some goats. Everyone is a subsistence farmer, laboring for their food and survival. A friend told us that in the native tribal tongue, there is no distinction between the word for “need” and the word for “want.” There is only need, luxuries aren’t even a part of the language.
We arrived at the church. It was dimly lit, with the only light poking through holes in the tin roof. The dirt floor was covered with straw mats. As is customary for visitors, we were escorted to the front row. In the front of the church, a woman was prostrated on the ground, screaming, “Hallelujah!!!!”
The genuineness of her cries made me really uncomfortable. It made me uncomfortable because whatever she felt, I didn’t. I resorted to my logic. What on earth could she be so happy about? What had happened to cause her to praise God in such a way? In this town, what could it be? Maybe her sick child had been healed, or maybe someone had given her family a goat when they were hungry. I imagined my own gratitude in those situations, but nothing I could think of could merit the level of passion in her cries. Then I realized, she was not praising a blessing or a circumstance. She was praising her God, her Father, her bridegroom, her friend.
Recently, I read a book called “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” by Donald Miller. He talks about the importance we place in some of the stuff around us. He says:
“If you ask me, we make too much of worldly love. I like it as a metaphor, but making too much of love is like trying not to be where a tree falls in the forest so you can hear it. It’s like chasing a leprechaun.”
I think I chase leprechauns. I live in “I want,” instead of, “I need.” I live craving the metaphor instead of the meaning. I thank God for the gifts instead of the gift of himself. There are a lot of good things on earth. Gifts from God, intended for our enjoyment to be representations of his love for us. But only that. Representations. These blessings are just a shadow of the true gift of God’s love. Good food, love from friends, and warm beds are all great things that God uses as vague representations, shadows, of the true blessing of love that he pours out to us. It is not wrong to be thankful.
Here’s where we have gone wrong: We huddle in these shadows, soaking up their comfort, clinging to the blurry semblance of God that we see in them. Before we know it, we live in the darkness of those shadows, appreciating the presence of blessings instead of the presence of God. We become so accustomed to the darkness that the light seems weird. Uncomfortable.
The woman in the church has no shadows. She doesn’t waste time thanking God for her blessings because she has none. She only has God. She stands in the light—the source of the shadows. She has no where else to stand. Before, I may have said, “Poor woman, look at her poverty.” Now, part of me envies her lifestyle. She lives in God’s beauty, uninterrupted.
“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” – C.S. Lewis
