billy goat faith

September 28th 2008

This morning Dima and I are waking up in the Bakata compound to a chorus of roosters crowing, children coughing up their malaria phlegm, and the sounds of teeth being brushed. I pulled back my bed net and moved out of the tukul. Teeth brushed and a visit to “baby goat” latrine, and now I am sitting out in the front yard praying and thinking my thoughts along with an assist from John Henry Jowett.

I’m trying to admit grace into my doubting, diss-ing, and duplicity of believing unbelief. With Jowett I wonder how much grace my unbelief can withstand. Can I have the resolve to hope for the Father's ongoing nudges, conversational intimacy, and present guidance at least equal to that of a baby goat?

I’m thinking of Bakata’s story of a new baby goat that had gone missing and presumed lost. They hunted for it near and far to no avail. Then after 7 days Bakata’s mother was going to the latrine and heard a soft bleating beneath the squat spot. She looked down, shone a torch, and there it was off to the side up to it’s haunches in poop. It had survived without its mom in a dark and smelly place for a week. Bakata removed part of the top of the pit, and dropped some grass on top of the poor. The baby struggled to get to the food. At that point Bakata lowered a noose around the goat’s neck and gradually he drew it up. Restored it to its mom. Amazing. Billy goat faith.