She was sitting on a straw mat spread out on a dirt hill. Seated next to her was a friend breast-feeding a thunder-thighed baby boy. A small girl played in the dirt around the mat. Mud bricks piled behind her. Plastic buckets filled with water, dirty dishes, and clothing surrounded the area. A single tree provided shade from the hot African sun beating down on the dirt.
Everything was perfect. Everything was right. Everything was beautiful.
Another woman brought a stool for me. Three men walked over and joined us. Everyone was ready for what I had to say.
I sat quietly for a moment. I was in awe. I was humbled.
If I could bottle up one image of the World Race for the rest of my life, it would be this moment.
This very moment I knew.
I knew this is it.
This is the World Race.
This is my life.
This is the Kingdom.
This is beauty at its best.
When I finally gathered my thoughts, I told them about God’s love. I told them how He can transform lives. I told them about His saving grace. I shared my heart with them.
Three of the men decided to accept Christ and become born-again. The two women were both born-again already and asked for prayer for strengthened relationships with God.
As awesome as the salvations are, I still cannot believe that I was there. I cannot believe that God chose me to sit with these people. I cannot believe that He picked His best for me. Over the past 5 ½ months, I have often found myself marveling at the craziness of this life. Yet it’s so normal. It feels so right, so completely normal for me to walk around town and sit with complete strangers to share God’s love.
This, my friends, is beautiful.
