The Path

When we pull up to church in the village of Timbalan, we find that a small crowd has already gathered under the shade of a giant, beautiful tree. Just along the border of the shade of the tree, people sat on the benches, wooden stools, and buckets that they brought. As the balophone started playing and the drum started beating, people got up and started dancing. 

They formed a circle in the center and started slowly moving and rotating around the musicians. We danced around and around many, many times, singing praises to God all the while. 

When it was time for the message, Caleb got up to speak. He stood in the middle where the dancers had been dancing and pointed to the ground. "When we arrived, there was not a path here," he said. "But now, after dancing, you have formed a recognizable path in the dirt." 

Everyone's eyes followed his finger as he pointed to the distinguishable path in the dirt that went around the musicians and around the trunk of the tree. It was true indeed that the dancers had formed a small foot path with their dancing. "One person led the dancing and started the path, but with each person who followed behind, the path became more and more clear." 

"Jesus has done the same for us. He was the first one to come and show us the way to salvation in God. Now, we follow his footsteps on the path that he has made. And when we do this, it makes the path more clear for the ones who come after us like our children." 

"We must remove the rocks, branches, and obstacles in the path so that our children can follow it, too," Caleb said. "Those obstacles are like the fetches and idols that block the way and keep us from following God wholeheartedly." 

All the people laughed and shouted with joy because they could relate to this concept so well. The African villages are filled with footpaths, and they know well how to make and maintain these paths. "Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life," Caleb reminded the church gathered under the tree. They roared with applause when Caleb took his seat after the lesson was complete. 

The next day, we drove down another footpath, this time leading us to the village of Besserke. We walked the footpaths of this village for two days, living life in the village and working in a remote medical clinic. We met many children and spent much time playing with them. At first, they stood at a distance, afraid and unsure of us. With time, they came closer and closer until I would feel a slight brush on the back of my arm and look down to see some bright white eyes looking up at me. Even then, they don't smile a lot at first, but then they warm up and laugh uncontrollably when you tickle their sides or make a silly face. Along a dirt footpath, we played follow the leader, and I thought about Caleb's message to the church under the tree. 

I see Jesus in them. Jesus said to have the faith of a child. In Besserke, I saw their faith in us as a faith that approaches, that comes closer and closer. I want to have a faith like that, constantly drawing nearer to Jesus until I am right up next to him, brushing up against his arm. I want to be constantly growing more comfortable and familiar in his presence. I want to be constantly increasing in trust and joy. And I want to follow him down his path, imitating exactly what he does. 

In addition to the children, we also met many adults, who came to see and visit the white foreigners. We met all the workers in the clinic, the director of the school, the overseer of development projects in the village, and a local pastor. In Burkina, and especially in village life, visiting people and greeting everyone is highly, highly valued. Making visits and meeting people is how relationships are formed, and I felt as though the people we met and the paths we crossed were no coincidence. It was like the path was ordained. Like every place where we put our feet had been prepared in advance. 

We followed another footpath to the home of Dabire Hypolite, a young man with shingles who we found out was orphaned and abandoned three years ago. We talked about the possibility of enrolling this young man in our scholarship program so that he can go to school. We also encountered Odile, a severely malnourished two-year-old who might benefit from being registered in our program for infants in distress. At the end of the trip, I indeed felt like our paths were entirely planned out in advance, like it was no accident or coincidence. A path ordained for us. 

The footpath is a symbol of Burkina life. Paths connect people and places. The path under the tree connected people to worship. The paths in Besseke connected us to some people in need that we can help. The path where the children played follow the leader connected us with the faith of a child. Even now, the footpaths of Burkina are connecting the foreigners from the United States to the villagers of the bush in Burkina. In all this, God is looking and saying, "All the days planned for you were written in my book before one of them came to be." (Psalm 139) 

He first made the path for us to come to him through Christ, and now he continues to ordain our paths.