By kristen
When I sat in his closet-sized home in the middle of Africa, I couldn’t take my eyes off the pathetic interior or ignore the dripping rain on my head.
I tried to not to imagine the “community toilet” he shared with neighbors adjoined by paper-thin walls or how far he walked each way to school everyday, in the dark, both ways.
The peace on his face was undeniable and the light that radiated from his eyes filled the dark room of his orphan-led home.
I didn’t understand how he could be so content with so little. And I couldn’t stop the question, “Why are you so happy? Why aren’t you afraid?”
He looked at me as if I’d missed it entirely and said, “Because I have Jesus.”
He didn’t say anything else. It was a heavy statement. It was enough.
He was right, I had missed it. Entirely.
I equate Jesus to comfort and blessings. And when I sat in a hovel, a young boy called home, void of every comfort, I was envious of his contentment.
I returned to a lifestyle with every blessing, only wanting more.
I add Jesus like salt and pepper to a tasteless dish.
He isn’t the main course, just an extra on the side.
Jesus isn’t enough for me.
I think about my happiness that is clouded with every storm that blows into my life. I think about my happiness that is contingent upon what I have versus what I want. I think about my happiness and the strings I attach to it.
I think about a young boy who taught me more about Jesus and myself in a single sentence than my entire Bible College degree and 37 years of living.
One of the great lessons I learned in Africa: When Jesus isn’t enough, something is wrong.
I’m on a quest to make it all about Jesus. It’s easy surrounded by the comforts of my American life to melt back into the The American Way-bigger is better, more is what matters.
This is a painful journey, but more than anything, I want Him to be enough for me.
Is Jesus enough for you? If your happiness, like mine, is determined by how much or how little you have or the next exciting thing in your life, can I gently remind you to return to Him? He is waiting to be enough.
When I sat in his closet-sized home in the middle of Africa, I couldn’t take my eyes off the pathetic interior or ignore the dripping rain on my head.
I tried to not to imagine the “community toilet” he shared with neighbors adjoined by paper-thin walls or how far he walked each way to school everyday, in the dark, both ways.
The peace on his face was undeniable and the light that radiated from his eyes filled the dark room of his orphan-led home.
I didn’t understand how he could be so content with so little. And I couldn’t stop the question, “Why are you so happy? Why aren’t you afraid?”
He looked at me as if I’d missed it entirely and said, “Because I have Jesus.”
He didn’t say anything else. It was a heavy statement. It was enough.
He was right, I had missed it. Entirely.
I equate Jesus to comfort and blessings. And when I sat in a hovel, a young boy called home, void of every comfort, I was envious of his contentment.
I returned to a lifestyle with every blessing, only wanting more.
I add Jesus like salt and pepper to a tasteless dish.
He isn’t the main course, just an extra on the side.
Jesus isn’t enough for me.
I think about my happiness that is clouded with every storm that blows into my life. I think about my happiness that is contingent upon what I have versus what I want. I think about my happiness and the strings I attach to it.
I think about a young boy who taught me more about Jesus and myself in a single sentence than my entire Bible College degree and 37 years of living.
One of the great lessons I learned in Africa: When Jesus isn’t enough, something is wrong.
I’m on a quest to make it all about Jesus. It’s easy surrounded by the comforts of my American life to melt back into the The American Way-bigger is better, more is what matters.
This is a painful journey, but more than anything, I want Him to be enough for me.
Is Jesus enough for you? If your happiness, like mine, is determined by how much or how little you have or the next exciting thing in your life, can I gently remind you to return to Him? He is waiting to be enough.
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