There is a story I remember from when I was a child. The story is about a lion that trapped a mouse. The mouse pleads for his life, promising to help the lion some day. Feeling ever so magnanimous the lion releases the mouse, sure that his graciousness will never be repaid. The story ends, as you surely know, with the lion getting caught in a hunter’s trap. And who should come by but the very mouse the lion set free. The mouse returns the favor, freeing the lion by gnawing through the trap’s ropes.
We tell this story to children so they will learn to value everyone, regardless of social status. From the rich and powerful to the weak and poor, everyone is to be appreciated. We tell it so they will understand that even mice can unleash the fury of a lion. We love the lessons of this story. But why do we tell it? Is it to teach mice how to befriend lions? Or are we teaching lions to be gracious to mice?
Meet Soja Abdou. He is a Fulani farmer who lives about five miles outside of a small village called Gueladio. Every Sunday he walks those five miles to lead worship for a congregation of four Christians at the church in Gueladio. He speaks no French and is completely illiterate. When asked to sign his name he laughs and draws two small lines, slightly cocked so they look like a cow’s hoof print. He grows millet on his land during the rains and maintains a small garden during the dry season. Often his farming isn’t even enough to subsist, forcing him to leave his family behind and go as far as Benin in search of work. The money he sends back helps his family make it through till the next harvest. But no remittance can fill the void his absence leaves in his family and in the church.
Two months ago while spending a weekend in Gueladio, Soja came to me asking for a small loan. He wanted to get started doing small commerce that would earn him the residual income needed to make it through the famines. So with the help of Lawali’s translation, he and I looked at his business plan. After much discussion and prayer, he was given a small loan to put his plan in action. With that money he walks with his donkey cart every Saturday 15 km to a village market. There he buys sacks of millet to cart back to his village, which he sells for a $5 profit, still under the inflated price of the village’s sole vendor. Since giving that loan I have been out to visit him a few times to see his progress and collect the first payment.
The whole time I have worked with Soja I have been mystified by him. Here is a man who can’t read or write his own name, yet he understands the Bible better than I. He is the only Christian in his immediate family, and one of five in his village, yet he still has a stronger faith than I. He has to borrow money to make ends meet, yet he gave me a crate of eggs and a sack of mangos when I came to collect the first loan payment. He has every reason to complain about his life, yet he sings the purest praises I’ve ever heard. I am mystified because, by all appearances, there is nothing to sustain Soja’s faith, let alone allow growth. Yet somehow, his life reflects that of Christ more than anyone I have met. He is a simple, uneducated man, yet he has an understanding that, as Hassan described, “surpasses all others.”
I say without an ounce of pride that my job is one that earns me the admiration of others. People hear about the work I do with people like Soja and Moumouni and think how wonderful it is that I am helping those less fortunate than myself. Every month I get calls, emails, letters and facebook posts telling me how great what I am doing is. But the admiration I receive is the same admiration we feel for the lion when he releases the mouse. As Americans, we tend to fancy ourselves lions. We are born into a land of tremendous blessing with seemingly endless resources at our disposal. We are THE world power, so that must mean that we as Americans wield that tremendous power. We are the gatekeepers of the “American Dream” and have the ability to pass the keys to those we choose.
In Second Corinthians chapter 12, Paul talks about weakness. He speaks of a thorn in his flesh that he prayed three times for God to remove. This thorn made him weak and he wanted all the strength he could muster to better serve God. After the third prayer God responded, “ My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” I do not idolize Soja. I am sure he has flaws, imperfections buried deep within. But I have been plagued by a singular thought. Though everything may seem contrary, I am not the lion in this relationship. Instead, I am a mouse working beside one of the fiercest spiritual lions the world has ever known. Any help I give is just undoing the binds that keep him at bay.
