Being a missionary has its perks: daily adventures, new friends, and new countries to visit. But sometimes it can wear a person down.
Sometimes when you spend every day serving and thinking about others, you just want for one day to be completely served. For once I wanted to know that the people around me wanted to have a relationship with me not because of my “wealth” or because I am American. I wanted true friendship. I wanted to be completely poured into just once.
A little selfish, I know, so I didn’t expect it to happen at all.
We left LDW in Botswana to fly out from Johannesburg, South Africa. I knew we would be staying with a church for one night since our flight didn’t leave until the following day. (It’s always good to be early, folks. One of our buses popped a tire and the other started smoking.) We were told that a braai (African barbecue) would be served so we wouldn’t have to prepare PB&Js for dinner.
I initially expected that we would be eating with the pastor and his family. What we received overwhelmed me. The moment we stepped into the church lobby, we were surrounded by church members who all gave us the warmest hugs. After we made our way done down the mile-long hug line, we were greeted by a plate of snacks and a variety of drinks. We were encouraged to eat and drink our fill before the braai started and to rest in the way that we wanted; we could go take a nap or enjoy chatting with the church members.
I spent my time laughing with the people, petting a precious puppy, and finally feeling the rest I’ve so desired. I honestly didn’t think the night could get better, but then we feasted.
Look at that meat! And some is hidden by that toasted cheese sandwich. They grilled a steak, boerewors, and lamb chop for each person. Then they laid out a spread of garlic bread, potato salad, a corn-cheese ball thingy, more bread, and a salad with goat cheese. I happily filled my plate and didn’t think about if it were even possible for me to fit it all in my shrunken stomach.
A few tears might have leaked out while I stuffed my face. The pastor came around to each of us to make sure we were fully satisfied. And I was. I was beyond satisfied. My soul, mind, and body were overflowed from the goodness of this community.
After we ate, we went to some of the homes of the church members to shower. If you thought the food was beautiful, let me tell you the bliss of using a real, soft towel on the race surpasses any meal. I’m tearing up just thinking about it. Our host did everything to make sure we were served well.
I didn’t realize until after those few days that hospitality is a gift. Words and actions easily show a guest how welcomed they should and do feel. It wasn’t the food or the amazing showers that showed their love for us (although, I’m pretty sure food is my Love Language). It was their heart. It was their willingness to put us far before themselves without even knowing our names. It was the fact that they were willing to love me because I am a creation of God. Not because I have money. Not because I come from a place of opportunity.
And I could feel the genuineness in their hearts. They didn’t do all this because they had to. It was a burden on their hearts to love everyone and show that love through service.
Hospitality is a gift I want to grow into. How often have I been selfish or shared because I was raised to do so? I pray that on the Race I can learn to have more of a hospitable heart with everyone I meet!
