The Taste of Jesus, Germs and All
A single gram of human feces—which is about the weight of a paper clip—can contain one trillion germs1. Now that is scary thinking about all the people who may not wash their hands after doing their “number 2” during COVID-19. Especially in my case where I live in a country where open defecation is everywhere. I mean, everywhere! I once wrote in my journal, “If I see one more butt squatting on the side of the road. . .” And now with the pandemic, everyone is on edge - even in the most hygienic scenarios and places people are scared of catching the virus.
It is so bizarre to think that there was a time before COVID-19, when I had concerns about germs but not as gripping to the point of concern that it is today. Pondering all this, I was reminded of a personal experience that occurred long before COVID-19, where I had to throw out all inhibitions to germs and forget some concerns towards viruses:
Thick black grime between dead skin and even deader skin approached my plate. I watched closely as the lady’s fingers and dirt-filled fingernails massaged my yellow lentil soup and rice together with her bare hands. She lifted and smooshed.
The rumble in my stomach and desire to inhale this aromatic dish was fading quickly with each finger to thumb touch. Her hand was on my plate, in my food, and I could tell her hand had not been sanitary for a while. My eyes followed her nimble fingers as they moved like tentacles. I imagined a jellyfish swimming in the great coral reef. It was at this point that the machine in my head flipped on itself.
I knew the background here - in her culture, a common practice of honor is to feed your children from your hand when they come home as adults, just as you did when they were babies. Our friend was using her hand as a vessel of love. I also knew that the human hand can be a disgusting body part, depending on where it has been. The mind battle had begun.
“Mind over matter” was my only chance. I hoped the boxer in my brain was ready to punch - and it did, reassuring me, “She is doing this out of love.” But there was also the opponent screaming, “. . . Salmonella, E. coli. . .”
For months before the woman started to massage my food, my husband and I had been visiting her and her family weekly and sharing Jesus stories with them. We had become friends and she and her family were taking steps to follow Jesus. Yet many times we felt more like guests in her home than the brother and sister that we hoped we would be. The desire to be a body like found in Romans or I Corinthians that supports, loves, confesses sins, grieves and laughs together was not happening - until this moment.
Then, it was time. The sea creature reared its head off of my plate. It shifted to my mouth now, clam-like, except for in the place of a pearl was a big drippy urine color bite. It was obvious and yet atrocious what was expected. I could feel all of the many eyes in that place watching me. My heart was thumping louder and louder.
So, when her yellow, tanned and grimy fingers came closer to my mouth. . . The boxer spoke again, “Open wide!” I had to decide. Would I open my mouth or not?
I did.
It was messy.
Her fingers scraped my teeth. Lentils dripped off my jaw. It was not a beautiful bite.
My nausea reflex shifted and then reverted. I was winning the battle against vomit, gagging, and the fear of communicable diseases.
Could I have gotten deathly ill? Yes. Could I have avoided it altogether? Yes. But I did not because Jesus was in my mouth.
Jesus was that bite.
Yes, that is weird to claim. But it is as weird to say and experience Jesus helping me swallow that bite as it is for Jesus to be in spit and mud or in an article of clothing dragging on a road. He was the boxer in my head allowing my taste buds to enjoy the salty, spicy treat, and He was the one urging my gag reflexes to overcome my fleshly fear. Jesus used that invasive uncomfortable germy experience to unite my friend and her family to my family as a church, a body. It gave us and her a chance to recognize that Jesus is love in her culture. And from that kind gesture, she became our sister.
We were then and are still striving to become a body. We are now a broader family. It is a spiritually messy family, yet it is filled with Jesus’ delightful aroma. And that is something easy to swallow.
References
Franks AH, Harmsen HJM, Raangs GC, Jansen GJ, Schut F, Welling GW. Variations of bacterial populations in human feces measured by fluorescent in situ hybridization with group-specific 16S rRNA-targeted oligonucleotide probes. external icon Appl Environ Microbiol. 1998;64(9):3336-3345.
I Want to Hear From You
Would you have taken the same bite?
What are some inhibitions you have thrown to the side in order to show Jesus’ love to someone?
How have you seen Jesus’ love in strange places or moments?
Kira Day is an international field worker who, along with her family, has lived in 3 different countries in the past 11 years. She loves seeing Jesus in the eyes of different cultures as well as making Him and His gospel accessible to all peoples, especially the neglected. She and her husband sparked a church planting movement in an unreached and unengaged people group in Asia where they currently live.
Invitation to Join All Nations International for the Neglected:
If you would like to join All Nations International in a time of monthly global prayer held monthly on the last Thursday at 8-9 am US Central Standard Time, the following is a link to register. Once registered, you’ll receive an invitation to the online zoom link: https://tinyurl.com/ybgkys8c.