It’s hot, sticky, uncomfortable, at times unbearable, and it’s hot.  

Did I mention the heat? 

I have officially begun village living here in Kenya.  Msambweni has become my part time home for the next few months.  It is vastly different from the society and culture that I come from.  That doesn't make it bad in any way. It's just very very different.  And it’s hot.  

The village I am staying in seems almost magical.  Like it’s straight out of the Lion King 5.  It’s a community of beautiful people.  Knit together in friendships like I have never seen.  Yes, there is poverty, and yes it totally affects these peoples live. But this village is full of joy.  A happiness and an aura of contentment resides in this village.  The people have smiles that could collectively light up Times Square.  Everywhere you go, there's a friendly greeting and conversation awaiting you.  Yes, I guarantee, it’s not perfect and it’s not actually magical. Nowhere is. But taking this place at face value has shown me that maybe back home we don’t do community and friendships well.

Once a week, I get to remove myself from village life and spend some time with the American missionaries that are here in this area.  It’s been a great time to reflect and recoup and recover.  I have time to think about what I’ve seen and what to do about it.  So that’s what I am currently doing.  Sitting on a beach with my MacBook listening to Zac Brown and Dave Grohl on Spotify.  Worlds removed from village life.  

But just because I’m not actively participating in village life doesn’t mean village life isn’t actively participating in my mind.  I come from a neighborhood where I thought we did community decently.  Yes, people still close the garage doors as soon as they get home.  Yes, we keep the blinds and doors closed.  But we do throw out a hello to every third person we see, so that counts.  

Doesn’t it?

I come from a place where I thought the church did community well.  We are cordial on Sundays and go to local restaurants afterwards.  But now I've been thrust into a world that does everything differently.  Neighbors here are friends.  Intimate friends.  They depend upon each other for company, for life necessities, and to keep each other going.  The church here is a collection of people knit together because of their common goal.  They depend upon each other for the survival of each person and the church as a whole. They love each other well, and it shows.  Big time.  

So it has me thinking.  How do we change our cold stiffness?  

I think it comes down to letting true joy enter our lives and flow out of our bodies.  To really let light shine through us.  It doesn’t mean we won't have our issues and our struggles.  But it means that, even through those, we learn to lean into one another to help us through. If my home neighborhood was as tight knit as the people here, it would change the landscape drastically.  It would change our expressions of Church in ways that we can’t even fathom--and people would recognize that and be drawn to it.  The same way I am drawn to this small village.

So those are my shower thoughts.  They may just be Red Bull induced, or influenced by Zac Brown’s Bonnaroo rendition of Devil went Down to Georgia.  But I believe they're accurate, and I also believe I have much to learn from the people of Msambweni. I believe they, and the time here, can change me from the inside out. 

Even if it is really really hot.