Hand Washing

I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this since the first time I went out in the village.  I couldn’t, and still can’t, quite figure out how to put into words this exchange that happens every time we go out.  It's beautiful and convicting all at the same time.  


Here near Tenwek, when you go out to visit someone in their home, where it seems hospitality is not practiced, but perfected, there is always something that you are offered.  Chai. Bread. Maybe mandazis or beans and rice.  Always given generously and joyfully.  It’s often a sacrificial gift.  But even more than that is the hand washing.

This handwashing. This act of gracious service.  It gets me every time.  Water is collected in a pitcher, often warmed up over a fire so it's not shockingly cold.  And then as we sit in a woman’s home, comfortably on her couch or chairs, she goes around to each visitor and pours this prepared water over our hands so that we will be ready to receive whatever has been prepared for us to eat.
 
“So God created human beings in his own image.” Genesis 1:27

One of the advantages of living in another culture is being able to see and appreciate the differences.  And more than that, to see the different aspects of Christ that He implants in each.