“There are those that look at things the way they are, and ask why? I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?” This is a paraphrased quote attributed to George Bernard Shaw  that fits with my thoughts today.

Over the years I have struggled to understand what my call is. I sometimes think it’s just to have fun with Mathare kids or help them go to school through sponsorships. Sometimes I think I should enter politics to change the institutions of power. I guess I still do not know precisely what my call is. Five days ago I received solemn news from one of the single mothers in the slum of Madoya which is next to Mathare. Her son, who was 11months old, had passed away while she went about looking for job. As is often the case in my community, she is a teenage mom heading the family as the child’s father is also deceased.

I gave my contribution as usual and offered my condolences to the bereaved. The family had invited a “pastor” who had agreed to conduct the burial ceremony. The so called “pastor” wanted to be paid for his services and had even offered to provide transport for the family to the cemetery for a “small” fee of $60 (which is double the normal price.) I am sometimes ashamed to be called a pastor since my predecessors and peers have not lived up to the name. The “pastor” in question backed out on this family at the last hour. Last year, I was ‘privileged’ to conduct my first burial ceremony for a father of one of the boys at Inspiration Centre. The same issue now faced me again. I was called by the family in tears, three hours before the burial. I guess I was the only wild card they were left with.

To me, it didn’t matter that I was the last choice and had not been given enough time to prepare. I wonder if God wants us to serve him when we are ready or not – wearing a great suit, nice tie, or just jeans and sneakers, using an amazing vocabulary or ghetto slang?  The list is endless and I am very sure that I am totally unqualified to fit in this league of who a “pastor” is. For starters, I rarely wear suits, ties, office shoes and always use “sheng” (slang) even when preaching. I guess the family was right for not putting me as their first choice.

Conducting a ceremony to bury baby Easter (who was born on Easter) was special to me since it confirmed to me that as much as I may try to shy away from being called “a man of God”, it is evident that I can run but I can’t hide. It reminded me of a quote I heard that says “knowing others is intelligence but knowing yourself is true wisdom. Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.”  My prayers are that all men and women will know their call and trust that the God who called them to His duties, like He did in ancient times, will be gracious enough to provide them with whatever needs they may have in the present.

Moses Okonji is the director of Inspiration Center located in Mathare Valley in Nairobi, Kenya. He is also a member of the CTM Nairobi Cohort working toward his Master of Arts in Global Urban Mission from Bakke Graduate University in partnership with CTM.

Is the idea of being a child-like activist an oxymoron?

I sense that when we imagine the stereotypical legit activist, one who advocates for justice and equality on behalf of the voiceless and powerless we don’t necessarily imagine someone who would appreciate a good Will Ferrell movie. Rather than imagining a whimsical or playful personality my imagination tends to lean toward somber, stoic, and pre-occupied, the type of people who wouldn’t allow themselves to giggle at the odd sounding fart.

This is my experience.

Once I began accepting the prompts to hang among, befriend, and move toward a place of solidarity with the pain and suffering of those from below, I had to accept the wintery emotional state that often accompanies me in those uncomfortable places. And even if I didn’t experience an automatic feeling of sadness to match the hard environments I find myself in, through my own knee-jerk feelings of guilt and shame I often end up there anyway.

My son, Josiah, is 2 and he loves to laugh. To be thrown up in the air and feel those funny feelings in the belly… To make goofy faces at the dinner table… These are the simple and great things that come with the colorful terrain of being a kid. Josiah’s child-like ways will often break down the heavies that sometimes saturate me when I’ve been among those who are hopeless much of the day. Sometimes it brings to the surface an intriguing tension to walk in a home marked by the laughter of a two year old when I’ve just come from dwelling with people and places marked by severe pain.

Jesus says blessed are those who dwell in those cold hard places. Blessed are the poor and blessed are the peacemakers. But he also told his disciples that unless you change and become like little kids again you just won’t understand what the Kingdom is all about. And I believe that being like a child means being able to laugh and find joy in the smallest and goofiest things of life. 

Stumbling upon this unique harmony is just one paradox among many in the spiritual life. It’s a scandal worth pursuing deeply. Advocating for those who are suffering while also pursuing an attitude and posture that is quick to be playful and one that allows for fits of gut busting laughter. Carrying BOTH of these with you in whatever environment you find yourself is the beginning of wisdom. 

Ryan Taylor is a Hoosier by birth but now lives in Denver and works with Mile High Ministries. He’s learning how to be incarnational with himself and others. Find more of this thoughts at: www.tallmonasticguy.typepad.com where this post was first published on January 19, 2011.