10 Days of Revival in Nairobi
Saturday, Day 8
The
other day, I was looking at the flip-flops someone was wearing and noticed how
worn-out they were. It’s the preferred mode of footwear here – cheap, worn-out
flip-flops. Maybe its because they
are so cheap, or maybe its because they are so easy to wear, but on this side of
town you see them everywhere.
You’d think that these
shoes are so cheap that folks would just buy a new pair when they get worn out
and throw the old ones away, but they don’t.
They keep on wearing them.
In some ways, these flip-flops are just like the people who wear them.
Simple and easy, nothing fancy, and often worn-out.
Perhaps
this is why humility comes so easy to them.
I was listening to someone preach about Psalm 100, and it struck me that
these people are able to grasp what it means when the Psalmist wrote, “It is He
that has made us, and not we ourselves.”
It takes an abject humility that most people do not possess to understand
the fullness of that scripture. In
the sophisticated West, we understand it with our heads, but here in Africa,
they understand it with their hearts.
Maybe my perspective
would change dramatically if I were able to see the other side of town where the
standard of living is higher. I
hear that there are sections of Nairobi that are very high class with nice
stores and great restaurants.
That’s where all the whites are.
Now that I stop and
think about it, I realize that I am the only white guy anywhere around on this
side of town. No wonder they think
I’m special. I probably glow in the dark!
Today
is not a day for preaching and ministering.
I have promised to visit both of the people who have hosted me during my
past two visits to Kenya. One lives
miles out of town in one direction, and the other lives on the opposite side of
Nairobi, so this will be a day for driving and little else, and I will welcome
the break.
Of course, driving on
the wrong side of the street in a vehicle that is mirror image backwards is not
a stress-free break. I’m not sure how I have been able to manage, but it is
somehow a testament to the adaptability of human beings. There have been a few
close calls, especially when I turn a corner and naturally swing into the side
with the oncoming traffic. The
Swahili I hear them yell at me has a funny resemblance to the Italian you hear
in the traffic in New York.
I’ve
told you about the kamikaze Matatu drivers zooming around, but there is an added
road hazard that you will never see anywhere else in the world – the Mokokoteni.
The Mokokoteni are the
workhorse turtles of the streets.
These are human-drawn carts as wide as a car, mounted on axles with automobile
wheels. Two long poles serve as the
handles that are used to pull these things through traffic like a coolie with a
massive rickshaw.
Out here, if you want
anything hauled somewhere, you don’t load it up in your pickup truck – there are
no pickup trucks here – you get a mokokoteni driver to come by and deliver it
for you. It might be dirt or
merchandise, bamboo poles, empty barrels, or a pile of rocks – if it needs to be
hauled, these guys haul it.
Unfortunately, they haul
it right through the middle of traffic.
As you’re avoiding the matatus dive-bombing you as you rush through
traffic, you also have to be careful that you don’t run right into one of these
mokokoteni, lumbering up the middle of the road right in your lane.
This is a wonderful day
for me. I don’t have to be anything
or anybody today, and that takes a real weight off me.
There is much I don’t understand about this culture and their spiritual
and emotional needs, and some of it has to do with their “tribal chieftain”
mentality, the need to look up to someone in charge.
At least it seems that way.
And there are always
those who are ready to fill the position.
It seems everyone around here has to have a title: Pastor, Bishop,
Apostle; Butcher, Baker, Candlestick maker. Funny, there aren’t many prophets
around, if any at all. At least, I
haven’t heard of any. Maybe because
that’s the one office that has to actually do something to prove his
position and God-given authority.
There are some stiff
warnings in Matthew 23 concerning titles and their abuse.
If you have real power and authority in God – the kind that can be felt –
then you don’t need a title to advertise it.
Little letters in front of your name and little letters after it, do not
give you authority in God, neither do impressive sounding titles.
Jesus’ admonition, “…and all ye are brethren”, is good enough for me.
Just call me Brother
Dale.