Giving the BEST

Recently a friend was describing to me how difficult it is to accept gifts. This friend and his family are having a difficult time right now with the loss of his employment. His family’s financial situation is not good at this time. They were habituated to a very comfortable life style with significant income to support all their needs and most of their wants. During these days they have been in a situation where they are trying to make ends meet on the salary from his part-time job.

He has been accustomed to being a giver to Christian and other charitable causes, but now he finds himself in the position of being a receiver instead of a giver. This is hard for most of us. We want to be independent and our pride is hurt if we are perceived as being “needy.”  In talking with him I asked him to consider that this is a season of time in their lives when God is teaching them to become receivers instead of givers.

While living in West Africa we learned so many valuable lessons from the nationals among whom we lived and worked for many years. The culture there dictated that when someone gave you a gift, you were to accept it no matter what the gift was or who the person was or what their giving capacity was.

Many times when I was in one of the villages, I was given a gift of eggs or a chicken or guinea fowl or a handful of seed. I always accepted the gift no matter how poor or needy the family was who was giving the gift. My modus operandi was to accept the gift and then give it to another family in need.

Every year in Burkina Faso one of the most feared times of the year for the villagers was February to April. It was at this time that there was an annual outbreak of meningitis. This disease was no stranger to most compounds and many children became infected. Parents would sometimes bring children to us who were already so ravaged by this dreaded sickness.

One such child was Laraba (the meaning of this name is Wednesday—he was born on a Wednesday!). His father walked and carried his emaciated body for 6 hours to our home. He insisted on leaving Laraba with us, and I believe that he expected to never see him alive again. We cared for Laraba for several weeks.  He lived in our compound with a couple other “project” boys, and he made a miraculous recovery.

We sent one of our workers on a bicycle to tell his father that he could come to get his son. A couple days later Laraba’s father showed up at our house. I went out to greet him in the shaded area of our compound where I often received villagers. After the normal 10 minutes of exchanging greetings—how did you get up this morning, how are your wives, how are your kids, how are your goats, etc.—Laraba and his father were reunited. Laraba was a very quiet 10-year-old, and he did not express much emotion, but his father was elated. He said over and over that his son was a miracle. I had an opportunity to tell his father about the miracle worker called Jesus.

It is customary to give a gift when someone has done something for you, so when I started the “good-bye” conversation with Laraba’s father, he stopped looking at me and dropped his head and stared at the ground. I could tell he was in deep thought, and finally he said to me, “I thought that my son was going to die, but you took care of him and he has been healed. I can never thank you enough, but I do not have a gift to give to you except this: I want to give you my son, Laraba, as a gift!”

My first thought was Lord, help me out of this one! Now it was my turn—I tucked my chin to my chest and stared at the ground and I prayed. The Lord quickly guided me to respond to him: “Thank you for such a wonderful gift. I accept your son as the very best gift that you could possible give to me.” I went on to tell him that we had a small problem with Laraba during the time he stayed in our compound. His father looked upset and looked at Laraba and said that he was sorry that he misbehaved. I told him that Laraba was a good boy and that he was well-behaved. The problem was that he did not like my wife’s cooking, so we had to have someone prepare “sagabo” for him—that is millet mush which is the staple for all villagers in our area.

So, I asked his father if he would be so kind to care for our son, Laraba, in his compound and feed him the good food that he was accustomed to eating. I told him that we would help to provide for Laraba while he lived and grew up in their village. His father was silent for only a moment and then said that would be a very good arrangement for me and his family. I was relieved for I was able to be culturally correct in accepting the best gift Laraba’s father could possibly give, and to successfully get Laraba back into his family situation.

Laraba’s father gave the very best gift possible for him. God asks for our best. What do we give Him?