I recently moved into my new home. It’s a mud hut. It’s
square, 5 meters by 5 meters, made of mud bricks, and has a thatched roof.
Definitely nothing too lavish compared to American standards, or at least the
part of America that I come from. There are scorpions that hide under boxes and
in the cracks in the walls between the bricks and mice that come in to feast on
whatever crumbs are left out. Despite how lowly it seems looking at it in an
American perspective, it is a mansion here.
When you have a friend who has a
family of seven or eight that stay in a hut that is much smaller than yours
(for one person), it’s definitely humbling. When you are preparing to burn an
old cardboard box because you see it as trash and someone asks if they can have
it to sleep on, whoa, it’s overwhelming. When your friend who wears the same
holey shirt day after day generously brings some food to share with you, it’s
very sobering.
After a year and a half of constantly moving around and
living in and among these conditions, with those that physically have way less
than I do, I still struggle with how God is calling me to live and what He is
leading me to do with my physical possessions. I pray that Jesus would enable
me to walk in ceaseless thanksgiving, with tremendous generosity, and moral
clarity, and that it would all be done with exceeding joy.
 |
| Home Sweet Home |
