La Vie en Togo

 

 

Different

It’s the word we choose when we try to compare our lifestyles. Different because we don’t struggle with the same things. Different because of the things we have or don’t have. Different because of the languages we speak, or the way we express affection or anger. Different.

Different has a way of poisoning us. What is really just a word turns into a barrier, a wall, a separation between what “we” do against what “they” do. Somewhere along the lines, our way becomes better than theirs, but we won’t admit to believing that, we just say “we’re just different.”

I’d like to challenge that. I’d like to challenge the belief that we all seem to have and say that even though the circumstances may not be identical, that our lives are made of the same things. I’ve been in many places, and I’ve seen the same things. Joy, life, excitement, frustration, boredom, anger, confusion, sadness- these things are everywhere. When we choose to open our eyes, we can see that, but there’s that magic word- choose.

Take a moment and look outside yourself. Look at the people around you and see the way they do things. Is it different? Quite possibly, yes. But can you relate to them? Can you relate to the mum who is visibly frustrated with her children, whether she portrays it the way you would or not? Can you relate to the teacher who is so proud of all of his students, regardless of whether they meet national standards or not? Can you relate to the father who would do anything to provide for his family, even if he works a different job than you?

What I saw in Togo was different than what I saw in Canada, or Australia, or Papua New Guinea. What I saw in West Africa is even different from what I saw in South Africa, but do you know what tied it all together? There’s a common theme in all of these places, something that, when I chose to look for it, I could relate to? It’s people, doing life, right where they are. I smile because they are beautiful, and they smile because they’ve never felt hair like mine before. I cry because they deserve more than just trying to survive, and they cry because someone is hearing their story. I laugh because they are unashamed, and they laugh because I dance and look ridiculous doing it.

You see, we’re not that different. There is no “us” and “them” in my eyes. I am a girl of 22, seeing life and death, joy and pain, new and old, all over the world. She is a girl of 22, seeing the exact same things, but through her own eyes, her own perspective, her own experiences. We all laugh. We all cry. We all sing. We all dance. We all live.

So let’s live. Let’s live as if there were no barriers. We need to look past our differences and realize that He created us to live this life together, with Him. Look inside and ask yourself where you have created those barriers, the fences that keep you on different sides. Ask yourself where you’ve used the word different in place of better. It’s not an easy process, but you have to do it. Walls and fences and barriers make for a lonely life, one full of comparisons, loneliness and pride.

So breathe. Laugh. Cry. Dance. LIVE.

Live life out loud, knowing that the only differences that keep us apart are the ones you choose to hide behind.

Before I go….

Watch this:

 

 

Wasn’t that amazing?? This is the extreme talent that I get to accompany to Togo in 17 short days! This video was produced by my team, and this is just a taste. We have been praying and seeking God out so much in the past week, just really asking Him what His will is for our team. What do the people there need most? How can we meet that need, or even just be a part of it?

If you pray, please pray for protection from distractions and for safety. We have just heard from our student Selina, and her doctors have cleared her to come with us to Togo. (She took a hard fall and broke her elbow, and since then has travelled back and forth between Hawaii and South Korea in order to get surgery and check ups). We know that when we face great resistance, it can be because of the work we are doing, and so please pray for strength and wisdom for my co-leader Anna and I as we endeavour to take this team across 2 oceans and through 5 countries within the next 3 months. (Did I just say 5 countries??)

I’d personally like to thank you for reading so faithfully (even if you’ve missed a few…too many). The work I do out here is a balance of such a joy because I feel alive, and of exhaustion because even in your afternoon off, your work is never done. But please hear that with ears of appreciation, because although this job is never ending, it is also so  rewarding. Walking through discipleship seems ideal until you’re in the middle of it, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I am so blessed and thankful to God for the places He’s brought me over the years, and so thankful that I get to share it with you.

And think long term! I will be home in October and would love to sit with you and tell you stories of Hawaii- of the discipleship school process, what it looks like on a daily basis, what it’s greatest joys and challenges are, and life in Togo- of abandoned babies, street children, voodoo markets, and the overwhelming God of Africa who is SO in love with His people and their culture.

I’ll leave you with a quote I read this week. I’ve been walking through theologies and denominations, and have come to realize that there is beauty in the brokenness. Although I would love for all to attend one church and be one Body, I do accept that we are all so different, and as long as we work together, different churches are ok. Anyways, I digress, I found a quote by Martin Luther, a man who had more courage than many of us combined.

“Sometimes when we are called to obey, the fear does not subside and we are expected to move against the fear. One must choose to do it afraid.”

selfportrait

 

So here’s to travelling across land and sea, to jumping into foreign-for-now cultures. Here’s to committing to a cause greater than ourselves, to moving against fear, and to seeking Him in the beautiful mess.

Join me?

With Strength that is not my own, Sam