As I write this I’m sitting outside in Lilongwe, Malawi. I write “November 18” in my journal, but it seems incongruous to think of cold gray skies and bare trees at home when it may reach 100 degrees in the afternoon here.
Now, at 6 a.m. though, it is tolerable and a breeze blows like it has continually since we arrived.
Sometimes gentle, sometimes with more confidence, the wind blows.
We receive news that the world seems to be crashing this week – chaotic, mean, angry, divisive. ISIS, racism, guns, immigrants without welcome…
And yet, in this tiny country that few can find on a map, the wind of God’s Spirit still blows.
We sit with people from around the world, joining hands and hearts with our hosts, who include some of the “least of these”.
We sit under a Baobab tree sharing stories, and the breeze whispers around us, and each time I am reminded that God’s spirit is still here, still at work and I think of another time the Wind was felt.
When the Feast of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Without warning there was a sound like a strong wind, gale force—no one could tell where it came from. It filled the whole building. Then, like a wildfire, the Holy Spirit spread through their ranks, and they started speaking in a number of different languages as the Spirit prompted them. Acts 2:1-4
I sit and feel the breeze under the trees as a thankful community dances and sings around a well of clean water that they helped build with World Vision, that they know how to fix, that has changed their life – from despair to joy, from sickness to health. Continue reading
