Moving In

I had no idea what she was saying, but she was passionate about it. Even if you don't speak her language, you can see it in her eyes and hear it in her tone. You can see it in the way she moves her hands and touches her heart. She loves talking about the Lord. 

My greatest joy in the whole world right now is to watch her and our other teammates who are like her as God uses them to touch this place and it's people. 

They teach children. They lead worship. They care for the sick. They welcome orphans. They install and repair water wells. They preach the word of God. They engage in normal activities and conversations and then introduce Jesus right into the middle of it, encouraging people everywhere to put their faith in God. 

And I am awed to the point of speechlessness that the Lord has given me the joy of watching him work through them. 

This week I moved into the neighborhood. I gave up the house, packed my belongings in a suitcase and a bucket, and moved in with one of my teammates - a widow and mother of six who is one of those people of God I was just writing about. I am sleeping on the floor next to her children, taking bucket baths, helping prepare and eat their traditional sauces, washing my clothes with them on Saturday mornings, and learning their tribal tongue. I'm learning for the first time in three years how they really live - when they go to bed and wake up, how they gather wood and crush grain, how they interact with their children and how they spend their free time. 

The kids keep asking if I'm leaving today or tomorrow. When I explain I'm staying for the next six weeks, they can hardly contain their excitement. 

I remember praying three years ago when I came here that God would make a home for me. He has. The longer I stay, the more I feel connected to these people and this culture. The more I love them. The more I belong to them. It's weird - my life, my friends, my habits, and my hobbies are all here now, and I don't feel like too much of a stranger anymore. I actually feel quite at home, as if going back to the states would be awkward and foreign. 

Perhaps this is why God has given me such joy in watching him work through his people here. I no longer want to be the white missionary hero, I just want to be one of their family members. Together, we are learning how to serve God and live out his great commission here in Burkina Faso. And when I see them leading the way and speaking boldly for Jesus, my heart beams and I thank God for the front row seat he has given me, for the gift of watching him bring his kingdom to Burkina Faso.