Perfect provision

With merely 2 days left at LIV, you can imagine what a time of reflection and savouring it has been. Wrapping up the last few marketing projects for the "LIV-ing Off Grid" campaign, I finished my   internship on 12 July. For the past 10 days we’ve had ‘Family Time’ (which is basically time set aside at the end of our program to unwind. To prioritize quality time with each other, as well as the kids and moms on the village. To slow down and take in the last bit of village life before we say goodbye). Part of this time we had a testimony night where the ekklesia of the village gathered in our Barracks to hear what God has done in our lives these past 6 months. “You each have 5 minutes to share,” was the only guideline Shannon gave us beforehand. Earlier that same day, we were at Umdloti beach, and whilst I was watching the waves I asked God: “How do I choose one thing and explain it in just 5 minutes?”

[Which led to a spiral of other questions: What do I have to show for my time at LIV? A certificate for graduating from discipleship school? Do we ever graduate from the gospel? Community service hours to put on my CV? Radical testimonies of miracles, signs and wonders?]

“It’s easy, My child,” God replied, “Don’t you see it? Look around you.” And I looked. And I saw the ocean. The waves. The sand. The sky. And I remembered one of my first weekends at LIV when we had gone to Salt Rock beach. I went for a walk by myself that Saturday, and I cried. I cried because I found living at LIV incredibly challenging and uncomfortable. I had been stripped of any familiarity and comfort I had known before. I was stripped bare before God. But as I read the other day, “There is nothing in your hands that God won’t replace with more of Himself. So let it go. Let it fly. Let it burn. God is better anyway”. I had to let go of my life. I had to let my dependence on hoarded comforts and conveniences fly. I had to burn the good works and performance I’d try hide behind. But in response, He gave me more of Himself, and in greater measure.

So, when God said to me “Look where you are”, what He was inviting me to see is how content He has made me with His provision. He has given me not what I thought I needed. Rather, He has given me His very self. The truth is, in February at Salt Rock, that wasn’t enough. But 5 months later at Umdloti, I found myself wanting the Giver not for His gifts but for who He is. And I have learnt to be content with that.

“Could any humans actually love God for who He is, or is everyone simply driven by selfish desires, wanting not the Provider of all things but only the provision He gives?” (Paradoxology, pg. 107).

Perfect provision is possessing Christ. Yes, truth may be is knowing Christ. But holiness is possessing Him. And to possess Christ is to possess love since God is love (as I said in my previous update: everything always seems to come down to learning more about love!). I’m starting to see that it’s about the substance of love not just the concept, for I have seen this substance all around me…

Mum V sets up 2 tables with black tablecloths and vases of colourful flowers outside her café. With glossy eyes, a wide smile, and that little giggle we have had the joy of becoming well acquainted with, she hands us our freshly glazed ceramic mugs that we painted the other week. She had been planning this surprise for a week. Now, at the head of the table, she sits, sipping on her own mug painted with purple lavender flowers and a red butterfly. At first I think it’s the surprise that swallowed all my words. But it is this small act of radical kindness that overwhelms me to silence. She sits there, quiet and smiling. “I love you,” she seems to say with no words at all.

Joe and Ilana arrive at the Barracks at 6pm with 2 trays of lasagna, 2 dishes of milk tart, and their 5 kids. We spend the evening talking. Ilana asks intentional questions about our experience at LIV; Joe tells the boys how grateful the maintenance men are for their internships with them; their kids sweetly run around the living room and kitchen, giggling. When all the plates and bowls are scraped clean of any remnants of lasagna and milk tart, and when the kids sleepily cozy up on the couches, we think Joe and Ilana are going to head home. Instead, “We want to wash your feet,” Ilana initiates. Our living room turns into a holy place—a sanctuary—as these humble, loving parents kneel in the presence of their kids to wash the feet of the discipleship school students with soapy warm water and prayer.

Carrying a white bowl of mini carrot muffins as a gesture of thanks, we walk down the hill to Mum Yvette’s house. Nqo-nqo, we knock. As we open the purple door to golden afternoon light streaming through her steaming kitchen we quickly realize that what was supposed to be simply tea shared over humble muffins has become a whole feast. Spicy fish. Grilled chicken and beef. Roast potatoes. Sauteed cabbage. And fruit juice. Come, sit, Mum Yvette invites us. Come sit with us, we invite Mum Yvette in response. But she doesn’t. Instead, she busies herself for us. Little did we know that all the while Mum was stirring, chopping, sautéing, slicing, spicing, she was also fasting. Me and two other moms on the village fast every Friday for the children, she passionately explains to us like a true prayer warrior. So we feast on selfless, maternal kindness this Friday afternoon. And she watches, happily and generously.

What these real-life examples have shown me is that “real life” is about being with Jesus and becoming love. When I leave this bubble that LIV is and (re)enter the world, I step back into a society where that isn’t enough to constitute a “good life”. Instead, the world seems to have reduced “success” and “excellence” merely to that which we can measure, compare, strive, employ, buy and sell. Yet, I find such comfort in scripture that tells us that “love is the most excellent way” (1 Corinthians 13) and “God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise” (1 Corinthians 1).

So, as I say goodbye to LIV early Wednesday morning, what I am taking with me are 2 suitcases – one full of clothes, the other of books. Names of children forever etched on my heart. 3 journals full of inked pages of reflections, thoughts, stories and testimonies. Photographs and videos of everyday life on the village, hiking trips in the Drakensberg, camping in the cold, and faces I have come to call family. [Limited] speaking proficiency in Zulu. New annotations in my Bible. Fresh revelations of His love for me. And, most importantly, I am taking the learned contentment of His provision: I am taking the person of Christ.

I was recently reminded of an often-overlooked verse in Acts 3 that says, “When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus”. What could be said about John’s and Peter’s lives and their characters? Not that they were well-spoken or well-educated; impressive or employable. But that they had been with Jesus. Because of that, they possessed Him—His mind, His heart, even His courage.

I pray that what can be shown for my time at LIV is that, like John and Peter, I have been with Jesus.