Conferences, visiting friends, teacher’s strikes, plaited hair, Masai Mara…it has been a busy couple of month’s.
friends from the States visiting the orphanage with me 🙂
Me with my hair stylists in Ann’s older sister’s salon…
hippos taking a nap (Masai Mara)
love elephants! (Masai Mara)
Mama lion cleaning up after breakfast (at Masai Mara)
One thing I know, though: if you don’t make time for God, it will never happen. Sometimes I find myself falling back into the stereotypes of missionaries. As I was preparing to come here, I knew that my life in Kenya would not look like the stereotypical missionary. Yet sometimes I find myself still thinking that I’m a terrible missionary because I’m not spending hours reading my Bible and praying, because I haven’t led anyone to Christ, because I get homesick and wonder what on earth I’m actually doing here. It’s so easy to think that missionaries are a “holier” type of Christian and have thick skin when it comes to living in a different culture. Or that in order to be a true missionary you have to suffer, to live without any modern amenities or comforts. And in some cases, those may be realities (not the “holier” part, though). There are many missionaries who are living around the world without electricity or running water, or in more dangerous living conditions. But that is not a qualifier to being a missionary. Over the years, missions has evolved so much that there is no one-size-fits-all model. I live in a nice flat, in a relatively safe and nice area of Nairobi. There are days we spend without electricity and sometimes running water, but we are fortunate to have it at all.
Someone told me recently that they had never been planning on being a missionary because growing up, her image of a missionary was someone wearing long skirts, living in a mud hut, eating ants. And I think that stigma is hard to shake. But God has been showing me that He calls us to live intentionally and missionally. That’s not only for missionaries, but for every true Christ follower. So therefore, that is what I am called to, whether I’m here in Kenya, back in the States, or anywhere else God might call me. That means that it’s a choice. Just because I moved half-way around the world to be a “missionary” doesn’t mean that I naturally fall into that role. My sinful self made that trip with me, and every day I have to choose to follow and serve Jesus. In whatever capacity He has called me, using whatever gifts He has given me.
I was recently walking through Kibera, the largest slum in Kenya (one of the largest in Africa), and I have to say, my initial reaction is never great. The garbage and filth everywhere, the smells, the chaos of it all. But as I was looking around at all the people milling about, living in this filth, it struck me that without Jesus, that is how we look to God. All of our best efforts, all of our good deeds are all like filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6). But because of the sacrifice of Christ, we are washed clean and white as snow (Isaiah 1:18). And because of that, I live for God, not for man or the opinion’s of men (Galatians 1:10).
Not Kibera, but Korogosha, another slum in Nairobi…
Through the Lens of Hope... 