A Humble Christian, #2

In my last post I said there were two things that changed my life that day. I left the second out purposefully. It is too close to my heart to not give it its own posting. This was the hardest lesson I learned on the trip.

After finishing our feast (and it was) of beef and posho, we went back outside to the children. What happened next shook my world (and still shakes it).

There we were 3 white American boys standing in (or should I say standing out) front of at least 100 African children. And the children began to reach their hands out to us. They were not like the children in the towns. They did not want money. They did not want food.

They wanted to touch us. To touch us.

Words cannot describe what I felt. Why should they want to touch me? Who am I? What special thing did I do? I felt like a kid who just met her favorite celebrity. She shakes his hand and afterward tells her mom she will never wash her hand again. I never want to wash my hands again.

Humility. This is humility.

Not the type where people don’t take credit for something they did, though secretly they desire the attention. This is real humility. What more words can I say?

When I hear the words humble and Christian, one image comes to my mind:

A humble child invisible to the world.