(written 6.18.11)
Today I was humbled.
Pastor Immanuel, who I already considered to be one of the most
incredible men I’ve met on the Race, invited us to his house. Thinking back, every other pastor we’ve
worked with, and ministry contact, has lived in a pretty nice house, most all
of them with more than one room, some having several rooms. We trudged through the muddy streets, trying
not to slip, as we visited a couple of other people pastor knows, another
pastor, his sister, and our cook and friend Deborah. Then we arrived at his house.
Pastor Immanuel lives in a one room house, like most of
Africa. We walk in to a small room with
mats covering the floor, and cardboard covering the brick wall. Ruth is waiting there for us with a basket
full of soda’s for us, and welcomes us into their home. We crowd in and find our seats on the
floor. There is a curtain separating the
area we are in from the bed. Not the
bedroom, mind you, just the bed that is on the other side of the curtain. A pile of pans is in the corner covered by a
lace sheet. Pastor and Ruth live there
with 3 of their daughters. They were so
warm and hospitable that I didn’t really even notice my surroundings, because a
building doesn’t make a home.
Cheesy? Probably, but today I saw
the truth in it. As I sat in my private
room at the guest house, which is slightly larger than their entire house, and
I have a bathroom indoors, it struck me that not only pastor Immanuel, but the
other pastors that we have the opportunity to work with this month probably live
in similar situations. But you wouldn’t
know it if you met them elsewhere. And
it hit me. Where they live doesn’t
really matter to them. The only thing I
know about all of the men and women we’re working with is that they love God,
and they love to serve Him each and every day.
And for them, it is enough.
Why is it not enough for me? Why is God not enough for us?
