Children of God

We walked in the police station, and my escort immediately began talking to the man behind the desk like he knew him personally. They shook hands and snapped their fingers when they released, a common symbol of friendship here in many west African countries. By the way they were talking, I realized that they were expecting us, and so the guy at the desk just waved us through. We walked past the line of people and directly into the visa office. 

Again, my escort used his many connections, calm speech, and confident assurance to walk me through every aspect of the visa process. What I was expecting to be a huge hassle ended up being an in-and-out affair of less than 30 minutes. But trust me, it would have been an ordeal if I hadn’t had that man to get me through it. 

By the end of the process, the visa officer let down his serious, business self and lightened the mood by joking a little bit. “I’m giving you a visa for one year,” the officer said, “so you have to stay longer.” With a smile he added playfully, “You need to get married here and work a while.” 

Used to all the typical marriage jokes that Africans love to throw at me, I lightheartedly responded. “Find me a good husband, and maybe I will stay!” 

He kept going. “What kind of husband are you looking for?”

“Just one that loves God and wants to serve him.” 

“But all men love God. Is it possible to not love God?” 

In an instant, I understood his perspective. Here in this predominantly Muslim city, everyone does “love” God. While trying to think of a proper response - perhaps how to explain that people say they love God but don’t live that way or how Muslims don’t love the God I do (Jesus Christ) - my escort man stepped right into the conversation. 

With the same gentle tone he used to speak to his friends, yet with genuine sincerity, he said, “We all love God, but we aren’t all children of God.” It came out of his mouth gracefully and effortlessly, without an ounce of feeling forced or fake. “In the Bible, in John 1:12, Jesus says that those who believe in him and receive him become children of God.” 

I didn’t even know this guy was a Christian until right then. It was also equally clear that the officer wasn’t really interested in what he had to say, so he left it at that, and before we left, the officer added, “I didn’t know you were a pastor.” 

“I’m not,” He replied. 

“Well, you sure know your Bible.” 

They shook hands and snapped fingers and left. 

My respect for my escort, already elevated because of his social standing among everyone we passed, inflated ten times more. He did know his Bible. And he also knew how to bring Jesus into everyday conversation, even with Muslims, and how to do it naturally and truthfully with ease and with love.

It reminded me of that same passage in John 1 when Jesus is said to be “full of grace and truth.” That’s how I would describe this man amen his response - full of both grace and truth.  

He inspired me. Encouraged me. Challenged me. When I had struggled with an appropriate response, he had it waiting at the tip of his tongue. And his manner of readiness, his gracious tone, and his courage make me want to be like that - to never miss an opportunity to make friends and talk about Jesus. 

Whether people listen or not is not something we can control. God works on that end, and we can trust him to do his job in his time. Our responsibility is that people know the truth, and they can’t know unless someone tells them, which means we have the honor and task of speaking and sharing.