Bambelea! (hold on to Jesus)
Holy moly, it has been almost two months since I stepped off the plane in Portland and it still feels like I am covered with the memories and smells of South Africa. It is an intense and beautiful country, people, and culture. It is a place of "cultural whiplash" where you drive from staying in a neighborhood with manicured lawns, iron fences, and cricket games; to plywood shanties, garbage strewn walkways, and soccer games on fields littered with rocks and debris. They are literally blocks away from each other, but miles apart in every other respect. During our month in Africa we experienced the full breadth of this divide. Serving soup at schools in the shanty towns, filling up everything from pencil boxes to old McDonald's cups so that those children might nave nourishment for a day; laying down sod for new soccer fields with the dream of having teams from the states come and play the teams of South Africa; visiting prisons, Tuberculosis hospitals, and AIDS homes, giving love and receiving faith; climbing Table Mountain in Cape Town and looking over a city of both extreme wealth, and acute disparity; working with young African adults who are striving to make their communities a better place through the Kingdom of God; and so so many other things.
I want to share a couple of memories from my time that I believe encapsulate what God has put on my heart through this trip. The first comes from the last day that we worked at the primary schools. For the last two weeks that we were in Paarl we taught life lessons in two different primary schools, spending a week in each. On the last day at the second school, we had finished our final lesson and were swarmed by these incredible kids that we had spent so much time with. They were running up to us with pieces of paper, t-shirts, notebooks, and any kind of writing utensil they could find and asking us for our autograph. It was one moment in my life when I felt like a rockstar (smile). When more and more kids started coming, something in me wanted to put myself on the same level as them, and as kids were coming up I started asking them for their autograph too. I didn't have any paper for them, so I used my arms instead. From my finger tips to my shoulders, every inch of my arms were quickly covered with the autographs of these kids; full sleeve tattoos of the names from the shanty towns. As we drove away from the school at the end of the day and I looked down at my arms I was struck by a verse from Isaiah, "... see I have engraved you on the palms of my hands..." The truth was that those names on my arms would wash off in the shower, but the greater truth was that those names would be engraved on the arms of God forever; and that my name is right next to theirs. The name of Ryan Wilmot, a white kid from Suburbia, USA is just as close to the heart of God as a child from Shantytown, South Africa. We are both loved with the same love that knows no bounds, covered with the same grace that sets us free, have been adopted into the same heavenly family, are equally in dependence on our Creator, and our names will never fade from His arms.
Every Sunday that we were there we attended a church service in the black and colored communities of the city, which was an incredible experience in itself. One of the common songs that we sang was "The Air I Breathe," and when I say "sang" I mean singing African style; totally abandoned, at the top of your lungs, with all your heart. The first time that this song was played during worship and we came to the chorus, my words were stopped in my throat. I looked around me at these people who literally have nothing, with their arms outstretched, joy stretched into smiles on their faces, and singing with all they have, "... and I'm desperate for you, I'm lost without you!" It occurred to me that I have never really experienced that reality as these people have. After the service these people will walk back to their one room shack and face another week of living day by day, trying to put food on the table, living by faith. They literally have nothing but Christ to depend on for provision. There are so many things for me as an American to be dependent on besides God, and for maybe the first time I understood with clarity that dependence on Christ was something that I would have to fight for. I have been abundantly blessed with a life that lacks for little, but my soul will always lack for much if I don't but God at the center of me. One of the last days of the trip we got to hear the testimony of one of the missionaries who helped found the organization that we were working with. She charged us to live life with open hands; to hold everything we have been given: talents, abilities, material goods, relationships, etc. in the palm of our hands. That this was how we become dependent on Christ. Every good and perfect gift comes from Him and belongs to Him, he can remove it from our lives just as easy as He has placed it there. He has a perfect plan for us in His Kingdom. Why not completely depend on His faithfulness?
I wish I could say that these were lessons that I have now learned through going to South Africa, but the truth is that these are life lessons that I will always be growing in. South Africa was the park that started the learning process. But it is just that... a spark. For these lessons to truly take flame in my life and change who I am, I must nurture them to allow God to fan them to life. I have learned so much about faith, God, leadership, teamwork, love, reconciliation, and trust... I pray that I will let these things take root in me.
In no way would this experience have been possible without your support. Your prayers and your finances were the springboard for this opportunity in my life and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope that some day I might have the opportunity to support you in a similar way. To see my pictures from the trip as well as some from my teammates, you can visit www.photobucket.com. The username is "MayServe2009", and the password is "southafrica" If you would like to hear more of the story about South Africa of just want to touch base and say hey, my e-mail is rtwilmot@gmail.com. I would love to hear from you (smile). You are awesome! Thanks again so much.
In His hands,
Ryan
