One Simple Question

With the trip back to the States coming up next month, the squad has been asked to answer some hard questions to help us make the transition a bit more smooth. Smooth as gravel, honestly, but maybe it’s asphalt? Pardon my sorry attempt at lightening the mood. *cue nervous laughter*

I’ve been mostly looking into what makes this community different from the church community at home and I believe this month gave me the answer. If you think about the church in America today, what stands out to you? The sermons? The small groups? The worship? I honestly don’t think about these as the main factors anymore. When I think about the Church as the Bible describes it, I’m left with only one simple question that this month’s lesson in evangelism has taught me: “How can I serve you?”

This question is something we need to have ingrained in our minds as the Church. Sometimes it should be vocalized. Sometimes we just need to ask ourselves how we can serve the person sitting next to us. It might change depending on the situation or the person you’re talking to (such as: “How can I be praying for you?” or “What has been a struggle for you lately?”), but the heart behind any of these relationship-driven questions is finding the humanity and the need in every person.

Yesterday, we met a Congolese refugee and her two children. She didn’t give many details but it didn’t take much to gather what she had gone through and what she sacrificed to get her family to safety here in Rwanda. I listened as I held her one-year-old son in my lap. His almost three-year-old sister sat with my teammate and it broke my heart to know that these two had relatives who were left behind to get them out of a warzone and to get them an education. They left running and carrying nothing because of the bullets flying at their backs.

I’m not diminishing the problems we have in the US. Those are valid, too. But, when the Sunday services roll by and we find ourselves in another week, it’s important to think about the people passing us by. The ones who we don’t know need our help because we haven’t asked. They still need us to care. The ones who obviously need us but that we feel uncomfortable approaching or being approached by. They still need us to care.

Here in Rwanda, we just walk into people’s homes, sit with them, and ask their names. We ask how we can pray or how they are struggling, and we are met with an outpouring of blessing in our own lives because people are just people and we all have needs. It seemed daunting the first time. The second is easier. Still, the third is even easier. If we as the Church can get in the habit of having a mind of service, a mind to steward the people next to us, and a mind to point those people to Jesus– How much easier would it be to find our commonalities? How much more would we find that we do, in fact, love and care for our neighbors like we also love and care for ourselves? How much more ready would we be to share this love that was first shared with us?

How much more would we look like Jesus?