Brooks
Sitting snugly with a group of 15 in a village in rural Rwanda, I really just wanted to weep…with overwhelming gratitude. The escalating noise of the rain pounding on the tin roof only intensified the exuberance of the Believers gathered together in Jesus’ name. Simply. No platform or band, or looking down on or up to, just together, in a circle, tight with love, close in harmony. The louder the rain, the more standing, stomping, clapping, and dancing to praise the God they love, overjoyed to be in His presence and the time to be with each other.
Sitting down again, I looked up, and noticed something hanging from the ceiling. As I squinted to see through the shadows, it became clear. What I would take as trash, the couple had lovingly strung from the rafters to decorate their home…a jump rope, a discarded stuffed animal, an old yoyo, dried up leaves, and a piece of ribbon. Old and battered, filthy and broken—unusable—each one. Yet, here they were, hanging high like a shimmering glass chandelier. I was spellbound by the love and thought it had taken to rescue what undoubtedly I would have quickly thrown away. Instead, Mbaruno and his wife had decorated their home with precious items to bring joy and delight to all who lived and entered there.
So, gratitude? Gratitude that I can be with people…who live simply but believe they are royalty, who work hard and know it’s God who is their Provider, who are not embarrassed by who or what they aren’t, but embrace with love and confidence of knowing their true identity in the One who calls them His own. Gratitude that they show me the God we serve is the one who takes the dirty, discarded, and used up and places us among princes and in seats of honor.
We go to give; but consistently we are the ones who receive.
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