The Beloved Jester

Almost 2 months ago tonight, I wrote this in my journal:

Lord, I felt so beautiful before You tonight. So fearless. Not because of anything I've done, but because of Your abounding love. I stand in reverence of You. When I went in from playing sports, I was sweaty, my hair was flying everywhere, and my feet were filthy, but all I could think of was "How beautiful are the feet." How beautiful are my feet to You.

And as all of us expressed our love to You together, not because it was some formal service we'd prepared for, not because we were supposed to, but because we wanted to, because we came just as we are...I felt that we were truly the Body. It wasn't about how we were playing or singing, it wasn't about how we looked or even acted, it was about You. Your joy, Your peace, Your fatherhood, Your promises, Your Spirit.

Now, tonight, I am a world away from that place, and yet I'm not.

I'm still with Him.

And I felt His goodness all day today. As I rode my bike to the market, I rejoiced that the sun was out, yet the air was cool. I watched the fruit sellers ride slowly down the road, grinning at me and towing what must be 1,000 fresh oranges, or 50 stalks of sugarcane, behind them in a wooden cart. I loved seeing the stalls softened with knitted hats, scarves and shoes that were probably made by the women who sell them, and seeing a woman seated there and knitting something else, needles in hand and baby on lap. I bought a welcome mat with apples on it, and I bought a couple of jars from that lady I always buy jars from. I smiled at the random "hello!"s that followed me as I passed, and I felt like I was home.

A friend from the university walked me home tonight after English Corner to make sure I was safe, but I don't think I would have felt alone anyway.

And it's not because I'm over culture shock, or because I'm getting used to things, or anything having to do with me, really.

It's because of One who walks with me. Sometimes I don't feel Him there because I don't allow myself to be completely broken and open at his feet. But when I admit that I am nothing, that I can do nothing, that I don't have anything He hasn't given me, and that I will give up everything that I might gain Him...it's then that my cup overflows. My love for people does not come from me; it comes from Him. My love for life does not come from me; it comes from Him. My love for Him doesn't even come from me, but from Him.

Last night, I sang to Him by myself with just as full a heart as I did two months ago with brothers and sisters. I humbled myself before Him and before the people around me. I realized that it's not about me looking competent; in fact, it's about me looking completely foolish. If He is the King, then I am the court jester, living only to please him even if I look foolish to everyone else, unworthy to even lay at His feet.

But then He tenderly washes mine and calls them beautiful.