Almost three weeks ago we set out for Liberia. That seems like millenia away today. We've witnessed scenes that defy description. I often find myself grasping desperately to paint a picture of our life, this life, Liberian life- and it is life even amidst poverty and death.
Last Sunday we attended our first church service in Ganta. It was wonderful and uncomfortable for us. Afterwards I spent a lot of time figuring out what I thought about our experience of African village church. Revelation followed soon after.
We know we're made in God's image as humans- that's Sunday School 101. White Americans tend ( at least I know I'm guilty of this) to imagine God's image as white. At church on Sunday I saw god's image imprinted deeply on a black face and it wrecked me. Africans, and every other ethnicity and culture for that matter, are made to reflect God's image in a way that if they didn't exist God would not be known. God has never been a white man.
Amidst the drum beats, dancing and preaching God's image was radiant.
We live in a fallen world. By God's grace we can witness Him hovering in the midst of our fallenness.