As I prepare to leave in June for Kingdom Journeys (see this post for more details), I want to share with you some stories from the Race that helped to shape this calling in me. Last week, I reposted one of my favorite moments from Zambia– time with my friend Ruth at the SOS orphanage. Today is another story from my time in Zambia.
It was hot. Sweltering is probably a better word. My team and I had spent the last hour riding on dirt paths through a remote area outside Livingstone. My seat was a plywood board in the back of a safari truck. We’d arrived at our ministry site for the weekend and were greeted by a hoard of smiling village children shouting “Mzungu!” and waving enthusiastically. Our spacious house had been exchanged for a thatch covered piece of dirt and some prickly grass to house our tents beside the river. We unloaded and unpacked, sweat trickling down our backs. For the first time on the Race, we faced the reality of holes in the ground being called “toilets” and a lack of running water. Sweat trickled down our backs as we setup tents while simultaneously swatting at bugs.
Once sleeping pads had been inflated and tent doors were zipped up, we gathered together under the thatch roof, thankful for the respite from the blazing sun. Our ministry hosts informed us that we’d be doing a scavenger hunt activity for the rest of the afternoon to help familiarize us with the village. I have to be honest and tell you that an afternoon of walking around the village in the intense heat sounded like the least appealing idea to me. But, it was not presented as optional. So I filled my pink water bottle to the brim, applied extra sunblock and set out with my group and our leaders.
Walking toward our first stop, I was internally grumbling. “Ugh. It’s so hot. This is so dumb. What’s the point? Why do we even have to do this??? This is going to be SUCH a long day!!!” We stopped at one of the very first houses and were welcomed into chairs under a shade tree by the two men who lived there. One of our leaders began to lead a short Bible study and the rest of us sat and listened. The mother of the two men sat daintily on a bamboo mat with her ankles crossed before her. The study went on and people shared and she plucked baskets of Okra. I realized that she didn’t seem to understand English but was sitting politely listening nonetheless. My internal complaining came back. “See, this isn’t even making any difference! She can’t even understand!” And in the middle of my grumbling, I felt an urging to get up and go sit beside her. “But, that’s awkward! And I have to walk across the middle of the circle. It will interrupt everyone! And I don’t know how to do what she’s doing!” The grumbling was arguing with the urging. And, as grumbling usually does, acting very immature while doing so.
After some continued warring back and forth, I stood and walked the ten feet from my chair to the mat. I plopped down beside her and smiled my biggest smile and awkwardly picked up a leaf, hoping that she’d understand my wordless question. She chuckled in return and patiently showed me how to help her with the task of plucking Okra.
I don’t know her life story or even her name, honestly. But I know that I will never forget the gratification of immediate obedience and the sacred feeling of “with-ness”. It didn’t ultimately matter that she wouldn’t understand the words because I believe that she understood the heart of my action. In crossing the circle and sitting beside her, I hoped she’d understand that she mattered and her work was valuable. In that moment, I realized the value of just being with someone, regardless of the seen impact. Instead of sitting apart, I’d chosen to sit with because that’s what Jesus did for us. He left his place in heaven to walk amongst us and sent the Holy Spirit to live in communion with us. So we don’t walk or work or grumble or pluck okra alone.
During my Kingdom Journey, I will have the opportunity to work alongside women— to wash dishes with them and play with their children and sweep their front stoop. And I’ve realized that the kind of serving that makes me come alive is the kind that’s done with someone not just for someone. There’s something unique about looking into the eyes of a new friend and learning what it looks like to accomplish their daily tasks, to walk a few feet in their shoes. It’s humbling and real to let service coexist with relationship. It’s with instead of separate.
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