How could I not be changed by Kenya? If the point of a story is to take a character stuck in a rut of his life and through adversity and challenge bring that character to a new point in his life, then Kenya is the story of my character. I have been transformed in ways that I have not yet had a time to fathom. I was challenged. I struggled. I faced adversity and overcame it. And I was brought to a new point in my life.
About ten days ago, I was in the passenger seat of an old beat up Toyota truck. The truck had been driving down a dirt and mud creased road for nearly half an hour by that point. We were passing people walking to work, donkeys, goats, sheep, and others on the side of the road, fourteen passenger Matatu's whizzing by on the hard packed road looking for passengers, and a couple of small marketplaces with no names. It occured to me that I had gone so far off the beaten path that I was no longer visible on any map. I was literally in a place where the streets, and towns, had no names - except those known to the locals.
I should have been panicked. I should have been concerned. In my life I have sought to be constantly surrounded by things that I can control. I have a car that can take me where I want to go. I have a home filled with things to give me comfort. I have a job so that I can afford to buy the food that I want and the goods that I need. My life has been shaped and defined by my desires. I like to know where I am. I like to know where I am going. And I like to know how I'm going to get there. But, here I was, in the middle of nowhere, going who knew where, and not having any idea how I was going to get there or what was going to happen when I arrived. That uneasiness of the uncertainty of life defined Kenya to me because it made one thing abundantly clear and necessary - I had no control over anything except my faith in God.
Faith in God in a place like Kenya is as necessary as water or air or good sunscreen. Its not something taken for granted. Its not something you can turn on or off as needed. It is palpable. It is ever present. It is required. In Kenya, my faith wasn't restored - it was defined. It was bolstered. It was strengthened. It became something tangible to me, something real. It was like owning a rain coat your entire life and then suddenly encountering rain after 40 years.
I will talk more of Kenya as I process more of it, but for now I just wanted you to know that from now on part of me will always be on that dusty road watching the scenery going by and reveling in the knowledge that I have no control, but faith will see me to my next destination.
3 comments:
Can't wait to read more. Clearly there is so much to be unpacked and what this means for your own journey in Christ.
I think I'm going to link this post...
I, too, look forward to your reports and photos.
You do have photos, don't you?
Cheers.
Your story makes me think about transformation. How are we transformed from one state to another? Sometimes it is forced upon us. Other times, we seek to shape our own transformation. Other times, as in your case, I think, we are simply open to the transforming moment wherever it might overtake us. This is, perhaps, the rarest of transformational experiences, for Americans anyway. I can’t speak for other cultures. It requires trust in the One who transforms us.
This reminds me of this passage in 1 John: “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.” The author is almost certainly speaking of the end of time, but I think that we can also understand this as a process. As we learn to see Christ more clearly, our transformation into his likeness also progresses. We never know where that revelation might take place…at our desk at work reading a brother’s blog, in church, or on a dusty road in Kenya.
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