Wednesday, November 10, 2010

This is Africa (TIA)

This Is Africa; a phrase known and used by many on days that just seem to defeat you. It's not one particular frustration, just many small elements that come together to make you sigh and close your eyes and imagine being somewhere else, just for  a second or two. I've experienced some TIA moments this week. Like when the power went off again. And I was forced to walk through stinking market rubbish because of the crowd. And the rain flooded the kitchen again. And another man grabbed my arm and shouted 'mzungu, I love you'. And my food went off because the fridge has been on and off with the power cuts. Nothing major, and nothing really to complain about, just mini-annoyances that cause a sigh!

There are also good TIAs, like this morning walking up the hill in the sunshine, admiring the blue sky and green banana trees and red roads and sighing for an entirely different reason: this is wonderful Africa. Diving into a cool pool and swimming beneath palm trees. Playing tickle with local children. Listening to a John Piper sermon and knowing life will be slightly different from now on. Having a laugh with the bodda driver you have just entrusted your life to. Eating a rolex (chapatti rolled around an omelette - rolled eggs / rolex). There are many moments of bliss, and many sighs to be had in pure, indulgent enjoyment.

And what is God saying through all this? The same as He has always been saying. Delight in salvation, allow God's peace and hope to go so deep into your heart it changes your foundations and behaviour, make the most of each for yourself and for others. Is it different here than in Brentwood? Nope. Although the faces look different, and the roads are incredibly bad. 

I was reminded of an old poem this morning:

My life is but a weaving between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors, He worketh steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow, and I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper, and I the under side.

Not 'til the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

He knows, He loves, He cares, nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those who leave the choice with Him.

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