Gathered Together...

When the day began I was 45 minutes from the closest paved road.  However that afternoon we got in an SUV and drove 1 ½ hours beyond that.  At times we drove on roads only barely worthy of being called that.  We drove and drove through small towns past pastures and trees.  We passed people and bridges and livestock.  Finally at the top of a hill I saw a few houses.  With a sharp left we headed back into a small village of maybe 10 houses.  With another sharp left we pulled onto some green grass.  I turned the car around and backed in between two hills.

We were early and people here always run late so we sat in the car and talked as we waited.  Children began to gather.  My guess is they see few cars and even fewer white people in them.  For several minutes we sat and chatted about what was in store.  I watched the children out of the corner of my eye.  

My door was open so the cool air could breeze through.  The children went from one to several.  They began to inch closer and closer to the open door.  At one point one little girl even reached her arm in to touch the two packs of AA batteries that sat in the pocket.  When she did I jerked towards her quickly.  They all took a step back and I smiled at them.  They smiled back.  

I went back to the conversation and noticed the children’s creeping in again.  This time I jumped from the car making noises and waving my arms in the air.  They all scattered.  They turned back to see my laughing and joined in the laughter.  Except for one little girl.  I turned to see she was crying.  I had scared her, but then I made her famous.  I went and grabbed her and picked her up.  I hugged her as I whispered in her ear.  “I’m sorry.  Be Strong.  I’m sorry.”  I held her close careful about the placement of my hands as I was fairly certain her ragged dress was all she was wearing.  

When I put her down she scurried off to join the others who watched from a gate a few feet away.  She looked back at me with tears in her eyes and I waved; she cried.  She looked again and I waved again.  After a few times she smiled and the tears went away.  We were friends again.  As we continued to wait I kept playing.  I would jump out once in a while and they would all run.  

Several minutes late we left the house and moved towards the house.  I topped a hill to see the most beautiful round house just down the hill from me.  The walls were made of wooden sticks that look similar to bamboo.  The roof was grass.  A pole stuck out of the middle that made the center support.  The closed door was a half door like those in big church nurseries.  I walked around back to look for a hidden spot.  When you gotta go you gotta go.

I moved back towards the house and noticed gigantic clay coffee pots hanging on the back of the house.  I stepped over a whole in the ground.  Inside was trash.  It must have been the burn pile.  I circled back to the front of the house and entered the doorway.  The room was dark and full of smoke.  A fire burned near the back corner.  To my right was a section where hay was on the ground.  Two calves gnawed on lunch.  

I walked towards a pile of mats which serves as a bed most nights.  The fifteen or twenty of us where gathered around a large round rock.  The rock was circular like a wheel with a hole in the middle like a donut.  It is used to cook food.  Fire burns in the whole dug below the house.  The heat rises through the whole in the middle and warms pots suspended over it.  We sat on mats and stools and benches.  Three of us where white.  

Although we were already behind schedule we waited as several had yet to show up.  Two women prepared coffee over the fire.  One was old and one much younger.  Neither wore shoes.  Both had their heads covered.  As we discussed starting we had to debate whether we could start before drinking the coffee.  The leader decided we would begin and take coffee throughout.  

We began by discussing the week.  How many times have you told the story?  Who did you tell?  How was it received?  Several shared their story of who had heard and how it had gone.  Others listened and nodded.  The coffee was served.

As a guest I was served early.  This region is known for their coffee, or rather for the strange way they take it.  I took a sip and noticed it had no bitterness.  It was a bit greasy though.  The butter and salt were strong.  I can’t believe they like it this way.  After the first sip I though, “I can do this.”  The more I drank the worse it got.  But I drank.  I drank slowly but I drank.  I also had a nibble of the snack that was offered.  It appeared to be barley soaked in water or some liquid which made it chewy.  Not my favorite.  

The story began.  A national sitting next to me shared the story of Cain and his brother Abel.  After finishing, he did it again.  After that others began to repeat the story.  After several hearings we finished.  Each had had their chance to practice.  Now the work begins.  This week they will journey out among their peers and neighbors to share the story.  They are walking them through stories of truth.  They are working towards the ultimate story of death and sacrifice.  

When we finished the old woman hugged my neck.  We climbed back to the top of the hill.  I waved goodbye to my young friends.  We got in the truck and began the journey home.  

This is the goal.  The goal is to put the stories of truth in the hands of believers.  We want to inspire them to spread the good news.  We want to empower them to be the bearers of truth for those around them.  We want to see a movement of houses and storytellers meeting all over the country and the world.  We want to see the promise fulfilled – “…every tribe and language and people and nation…encircling the throne…”