Here am I

Unworthy.
I am daily reminded of my unworthiness. Of grace, of privilege, of everything. And, I am daily reminded of the worthiness of God. He is worthy. He is holy. And He loves me.
Loved.
Here in Malawi, people love. Not "Hey, I love your outfit", but a love that does not require words. Malawians speak a language called Chichewa and I surely do not. But still, the children of Mgwayi village (which are our primary focus) do not hesitate to run to me, screaming "Azungu!" (white person), all just to hold my hand. They escort me hand-in-hand through the village, sometimes fighting for the opportunity to grab my hand. Why? Is it because I have been courteous to them? Is it because I skillfully asked them personal questions to get on their good side? No. It is certainly not. It is simply because they love. Being is more important than talking. Existing seems more important here. Life does not always need to be filled with words and events.
Awed.
If I am awestruck by something, that could be described as instantaneous. But, here in Malawi, I am not merely awestruck, but awed. It is constant. The praise and worship of native Malawians never seems like an isolated period of time. People don't worship God in one-hour blocks of time. Time is not fixed here; time seems to flow and people are not constrained by it. They worship Him with lifetimes. God does not stop existing, ruling, forgiving, or loving, ever. And people here understand this. It is beautiful. A joke that one of my Malawian friends made that stuck with me was his description of holding hands in the village as "hand ministry". It is true. The people here do everything for God. Washing dishes, making food, holding hands; it is all for God. People live in awe of what God has done, who He is, and what He is doing now. I, too, am awed by God.