Christopher
Townley

at dinner saturday night, as all of us were sharing a joyous meal together, i stalled out and mentally removed myself from all that was going on.  comfortably surrounded my friends from home (in montana) and friends from ethiopia, i sat in awe and respect at the blending of unique people and cultures.  this was what unity should look like.

i began to see the heartbeat of serving in another country.

in ethiopia we do not say, “here we are to lift you up.”  we say, “here we are to become one with you.” (i think i adapted this quote from shane claiborne).

and so as ate injera, dabo (bread), and tibs together i started to let this sink in – i am becoming one with those around me. 

when i stand in the trench of the wall’s foundation with michale (another new friend) and dump rocks, i am not lifting him up but rather striving to become one with him.  i must remain humble because, in fact, unity of vision requires us to see each other as equal (because we are).  or when i share a barilla (stretcher-like devide for hauling rock) with my good friend yoseph (and our translator both times i’ve been in ethiopia) we talk about our dreams and our goals and our hopes.  with my ego set aside (a hard thing for me to do), i am not in that moment to lift him up with my giant american arms, i am becoming one with a friend.

when i take the time to let the Spirit in these relationships (and all relationships), instead of trying to maintain control, i get to experience the pleasure and joy of becoming one with those around me.  let’s face it – ethiopia does not need me (or our team) to come and lift it up… throwing money or american culture or “right” way thinking at it.  ethiopia needs to know that we have come with a different intention, a different heart, and a different persepective.

i pour into ethiopia for two weeks in may because i want to say, and it must ring true,

“i was here to become one with you.  and i followed through.”

friday, our fifth day of work in a row (although we experienced a rain respite the day before), started out with a physical AND spiritual struggle.  our task to begin this day was to move rocks with a barilla (how else would you move rocks?  duh!) from one end of the school compound to the other.  more than double any distance we had been hauling up to that point.

my shoulders, back muscles, and forearms felt fire pulsing through them with the first lift.  i was on the verge of complaining about the long hike as the fatigue of the work, the movement of God in my life, and the mental excursion of learning amharic all collided at once.  my sour attititude could have quickly infected our entire team.  i was steps away from bringing us all down and simply going through the motions.

thankfully, my friend dylan was there to work alongside (or behind me on the barilla) me.  as we worked and spoke together(about nothing and about things that meant something) i was pulled from the duldrums i tried to create.

it proved to be yet another glaring reminder that i am not (nor, we as humans) meant to go it alone.  we require, for the vitality of our souls, relationship and community and friendship.  must be why jesus didn’t even walk through life alone.  i want to take all these “revelations” home with me to a place where i try to do too much by my own strength, on my own time, in my own office lest i begin to think it’s all about me.

plus, i’m finding that life lived in the presence and company of

thursday after lunch, as we set back to work, dark clouds loomed.  and sure enough, they contained a heavy dose of “zanob” (or rain).  here’s how it went down:

we’re trekking across the compound and dumping rocks in the a trench for the foundation of the wall.  let’s just say, “i rock at this!”  after only a few trips the sky begins to fall.  hard, drenching rain.

as i’m learning to embrace situations out of my control, i embrace even the rain.  i choose to stand in it.  i choose to feel it and taste it and love it.  i choose to run in the rain (with arms spread like wings… don’t ask) and play in it.  i choose to take the moment of being rained out (the disappointment of a “wasted” day) and turn it into something meaningful, or at the very least, memorable.

we played stick ball and threw rocks and took pictures and told jokes.  we sang and laughed and probably frightened our ethiopian friends who had little desire to stand in the rain.

we had a blast.

and so i wonder what it would look like to embrace the proverbial rain with this same joy of the moment.  what if every time the rain poured on our lives we still found some reason to celebrate or laugh or sing?  what if we looked for God in each of those downpours?  and instead of bemoaning getting soaked, we jumped around in the sprinkler shower with joy in our hearts as we look forward to sharing God’s glory. 

i much prefer playing in those sprinklers with the neighbor kids than moping in the rain.  i’m learning, and thinking, it’s all in how we look at it.  especially when we’re looking up.