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After
visiting several different potential ministry sites around PE, we officially
started ministry this week.

I will be working at Combined Christian Ministries to the
Poor in the Kwazakhele township. CCMP is a well-rounded community center that
serves the people in the surrounding community through programs for children,
teenagers, and adults. It operates as a soup kitchen twice a week, offers Bible
studies and life-skills classes, and has a community garden. The center is
directed by a white South African man, Mark, with an inspiring compassion for
the poor and a holy rage at the injustice in his country. I’ll be working there
about 15 hours a week.

Transportation to CCMP has been interesting this week. Since
we only have 1 van and 1 car to transport all 12 of us where we need to go
every day, the 2 or 3 of us that go to CCMP take a taxi to the township. We
quickly learned that white people are very seldom found using the taxi system
in South Africa. At first I honestly didn’t notice that we were the only white
people in a van full of black people. But after receiving several strange looks
I became painfully aware of my white skin.

The whole taxi process is always eventful. Basically we walk
up to a bunch of white vans in a particular area and tell them where we want to
go. They point us in the direction of the taxi going to our destination. We get
ushered into the van, and wait for it not only be full, but bursting at the
seams, with people. Once the driver decides he can’t possibly fit any more
people, we start on our way. Often the taxi is decked out with a pretty decent
sound system, and so we enjoy the latest hip-hop songs, the bass vibrating in
our chests as we speed through the city honking the horn at any and every
possible opportunity. Overall, it’s a pretty enjoyable ride. I usually end up
laughing to myself and thinking “What would Mom think if she could see me right
now?”.

The thing about a taxi ride like this is: you’re just 1 person in a van full of people.
(thank you Captain Obvious). But really, the only things you really share with
these people are a starting and ending location. Everyone has their own lives,
their own problems, their own hurts and worries. Besides the blaring music, and
an occasional argument over prices or seating arrangements, everyone is pretty
silent. People in a taxi don’t ask where you’re going or where you’re coming
from. They don’t ask how your day was or how your family is doing. If you’re
looking to find personal affirmation on a blue day, I wouldn’t recommend a taxi
ride to lift your spirits.

I think inside us all there is a deep longing to be noticed
and known for who we are. There’s a fear of being forgotten and a struggle with
pride at the root of it all. So we feel this need to seek our own personal
glory. Some look for it in relationships, job success, popularity, and looks.
Some find it in making good grades or being funny or being a missionary in
Africa. I want to be noticed and appreciated just like anyone else. But, like a
white girl in an African taxi, people will notice me because I stand out, but
in a split second they’ll forget about
me and sink into their own thoughts and worries, trying to keep their heads
above water and waiting for someone to take notice. It just doesn’t work to
base my identity on anything other than Jesus. My life is hidden with Him, I’ve
died to myself, and He is my hope of glory. Not only that, but when I stop
trying to stand out on my own, recognizing that I am nothing apart from Him, I
am free to look outside of myself and love the people around me more. Because
its no longer a competition to be noticed, and I have nothing to prove. 

Another thing I think about when I’m in a taxi is how much
the people next to me and behind me and in front of me have been through. Most
of them live in the townships, or the location, as they call it, a place where
suffering is all too familiar. I’m such a virgin to suffering. Even after being
here in Africa, I feel like I haven’t even gotten a taste of the pain of this
continent. Yes I’ve met orphans, people with AIDS, people mourning the loss of
family members, parents without jobs and children who’ve been abandoned and
neglected because they were born different. But at the end of the day I go home
to my warn dinner and comfy bed and forget the cares of this place. I haven’t
really tasted suffering.

It may be naïve, but I am praying that God opens my eyes to
more and more of the suffering in this city during these next few months. I
don’t want to be blind anymore, and I don’t want to be so concerned with
getting glory for myself that I can’t love the people around me well.

I’ve learned a lot from taxi rides.

Eternal Sun of Righteousness,

Display Thy beams divine.

And cause the glories of Thy face

Upon my heart to shine

Light in Thy light O may I see,

Thy grace and mercy prove,

Revived and cheered and blessed by Thee,

The God of pardoning love.

That all-comprising peace bestow

On me, through grace forgiven;

The joys of holiness below,

And then the joys of heaven.

2 responses to “Riding in a Taxi”

  1. Sara,

    I am Leah’s Dad and she was trying to explain the taxis to us the other day on the phone, then she said we should go and read your BLOG because it explained them better than she could.

    It sounds exciting and kind of scarry at the same time. We pray for your whole team whenever we can and are so excited to see what God is doing in your lives.

  2. Wow.
    Who would have thought so much would come from such a simple thing as taking a ride in a taxi, heh?
    I pray that as you let your worries disappear and you lean fully on Christ, that you will have the courage and strength to look someone next to you in the eye and ask them where they’re coming from and going to. (You know what I mean! 🙂
    love you girl
    praying for you
    k