Then, my grandfather’s funeral happened… this sad event provided the context for me to further contrast the Ubuntu in the village and that from the ‘burbs. My mind was blown away by how the whole village came around us in support. They knew and understood the difficulty of arranging a funeral and they all chipped in; some households brought serving tables and others brought a chair each -in isolation, it doesn’t seem like anything but 56 households later means 56 chairs.

This is how we were raised, yet how far we have departed from that manner of life? This retreat is tragic because the Ubuntu way of living is comparable to the way of life that God commanded when He stated that: the law is summed up in our love for Him and love for… yes, our neighbour. Granted, we have our church community, but I highly doubt that God was referring exclusively to our immediate family and church family when He used the term “neighbour”.

“Neighbour” refers to people that you live in close proximity to. Life in the burbs and its busyness has left us not knowing our neighbours. I dread to think of the day when I don’t need sugar but have a real emergency that requires my neighbour’s help. The dialogue would awkwardly be something like: “Hi, I am Lebo from number 14…erm…we’ve waved and smiled at each other a few times…so…please could you help me with…”

This concept of neighbourly love really hit home when I read one of Wednesday’s Word from Paul Tripp on people. The segment spoke about the importance of treating people as people or image bearers; not as the petrol attendant, the cashier or the bank teller but as a person who is bearing the very image of God. [eltdf_blockquote text=”How I treat my neighbours matters to God. They are the mission field that He has given to me. We think we need to hit the streets and cross borders to spread Gods love, when we can simply reach out our arms to our neighbours next door.” title_tag=”h2″ width=””] Consequently, hubby and I resolved that this year we would be deliberate about getting to know our neighbours and inviting them over for a meal. It won’t be easy and will mean getting out of our comfort zone, but we both know the blessing of growing in a community with loving neighbours.

Neighbourly love is so hard to do because my flesh wants nothing but my own comfort, wants not to be inconvenienced in anyway; but praise the Lord for the Holy Spirit who works in me, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

But, is not the whole point of neighbourly love merely an act of “considering others as more significant than ourselves”? Is it not being of the same humble mind that our Lord Jesus Christ had? May He be our help in our endeavour to love our neighbours as He would.

Halla in the comments below on some practical things we can do to live in community and “love thine neighbour.”

The post Ubuntu in the ‘burbs appeared first on Proverbs 31.

My poor husband was so forbearing and patiently entertained me as I showed him countless pictures of potential hairstyles and toyed with the idea of shaving it all off. Finally, I made up my mind – I was going to go bald. I even coerced hubby to cut it himself (bonding exercise) so he wouldn’t fall off his chair one day when I returned home –ahem…hairless.

So we did the big chop. It was liberating, “I have never felt so beautiful in my life!” was often what I exclaimed to anyone that enquired as to why I had the new look. Also, getting a great number of likes on Instagram with my new look was confirmation that this was the best hair decision yet. Sweet as that was, the cherry on top was that hubby absolutely loved it. I then started the al-naturale route and decided to never relax my hair, well…at least for a while. There’s just something about having natural hair vibes that makes you feel very African!

However, that beautiful season came to an end because today, I lost my Africanness. After another spell of going to and fro (no pun intended) about the next hairstyle, I decided to relax my year-old Afro. My hairdresser did an excellent job and it was so great to be able to run my fingers through my hair again.

Then I had a solemn moment, and in my sadness felt as though my Africaness was no more. Just after I said this, it finally dawned on me, my “identity” as an African was in my hair. This got me thinking about my true and only identity, the one I have in Christ my savior. I realized how we can so easily make our identity in Christ more about the external than our regenerated hearts. We feel like we are more Christian because we are so busy doing stuff and looking the part. Then all of a sudden when we cannot do one thing or another we feel like we are no longer Christian.

[/vc_column_text][eltdf_separator position=”center” top_margin=”27″ bottom_margin=”0″][eltdf_blockquote text=”Countless things are crying out to steal our true identity, I can so easily get my identity from being a wife, a stay at home mom, a homeschooler or a sister.” show_icon=”yes”][eltdf_separator position=”center” top_margin=”30″ bottom_margin=”0″][vc_column_text]

This true identity is so deep rooted that no amount of “not being” or “not doing” can uproot it. Also when we begin to go down this path, we start to judge and condemn others who do not outwardly conform to what we have established as the standard or the true definition of XYZ. Countless things are crying out to steal our true identity, I can so easily get my identity from being a wife, a stay at home mom, a homeschooler or a sister. This leads to an identity crisis and steals from the joy of my true identity flowing into these above-mentioned things. Imagine the transformation of my marriage when I don’t find my identity in it? I will not find myself in a rut of performance making it seem as though I have it altogether. I will be freed from the pressure of the watching eye to keep up my ‘perfections’. What a joy to know I can rest in the all-sufficient grace of the Lord even for when I fail as a wife and continue to depend on Him in my striving to be a wife that brings Him glory. It’s no longer about me, It’s all about Him!

That’s liberation!

The post I Parted With My Fro appeared first on Proverbs 31.