To Sojourn

 

By Glory Guy 

    I am currently attempting to read the entire Bible in the months of January and February, which means I am experiencing it in an entirely different way. Rather than going deep, seeking meaning in every word and passage, I am going wide and attempting to see the overarching story that the Lord is telling. I often forget that the Bible is intended to be a story, the greatest fairytale ever told come true off the page, in all the days of life, and in the world over the past 2000 years. 

    Something I have noticed in my first couple days of reading is the repetition of a word I know the definition of in passing, but haven’t spent any time trying to understand; sojourn. It’s like it jumps off the page at me. Finally following my umpteenth time reading it, I googled it and found that it’s a Hebrew term. In a very unofficial glory paraphrase, it generally means a person residing in a community or place outside of their origin, who is dependent on the benevolent spirit of the community for their daily provision. I found camaraderie with Abraham in this term, because my daily life in Burundi often feels like that of a sojourner. In the Kibuye lifestyle, we rely on the greater community, and it is a greater dependence than I have ever experienced before.

   Though our dependence on the community shows up in many ways on both a large and small scale, one very literal example of its influence in daily life is the journey that our milk takes before it reaches my coffee cup in the morning. The milk comes from a member of our greater Kibuye community who sends it to our compound by way of bike. He delivers it at the gate where it is accepted by the guard, and a house helper picks it up on his way into our little housing compound in the morning. He goes from house to house with a greeting and a smile and delivers our two to three liters in a plastic jug. At our front door, our house helper receives it and boils it on the stove until the heat pasteurizes it. He returns the plastic jug to the previous man who waits at the door, and the milk circulates this way throughout the compound. This milk passes through the hands of approximately six people before I pull the pitcher out of the fridge and add it to my coffee on my way to school. If the cow stops milking, or if our friend that delivers is stuck in the rain or his tire gives out, or if our house helper is sick, there is no milk. The system is simple and effective and yet is totally reliant on the hands and feet of others. 

    Though this is an example that seems small, the need to rely on others is a constant thread in our lives in Kibuye. Very little is individual, we share our resources, chocolate brought from the States, a cup of flour, an extra tomato or two. We are reliant on one another, and without a conscious thought, my understanding of what it means to be dependent on the Lord has shifted drastically. To depend on the Lord is to literally lean on him for provision. I have discovered it is not my tendency to attempt to spiritually tidy myself in order to tiptoe into his presence but to literally sprint in, caked in dirt, and to fall at his feet. This is no “fainting” on the stage scenario either, where I land in gracefully in thinly veiled self-sufficiency. This is full-on falling and trusting that he will catch me, dirt and all. He does provide for my every need, and my awareness of that has grown over my five months here in Kibuye. He isn’t just grudgingly content to cover my iniquity, he is unfazed by my failing and receives me with kindness.