I sat. Posture perfect. Back board straight. Unwilling to sink too deep into the yellowed, warn love seat. Around me were two American friends and a Kenyan. He had invited us into his house for tea.

“You look uneasy,” he said.

Words cut deep into my soul. Instantly, I realized the negative vibrations of my mind, body, and heart.

I sagged down, back bending deep into the creases of the never washed fabric to demand my body match the inner workings of my heart.

How suddenly we are made aware when someone else senses discomfort. Uneasiness. Distrust.

I was made aware.

I was called out.

My eyes glazed over as emotion rooted within my soul welled and sprung forth like rivers after a storm. I was battling a thought thunderstorm, and had been found out. Exposed and left to recover.

I was having tea in a Kenyan’s home.

He invited us in, honored to have the chance to host three American women. He was beaming with pride, and I was worried about getting sick as flies buzzed around the dirty plates piled skyward. I was hungry for a real meal and uninterested in the bread he was buttering, thick with yellow fat.

I was judging.

He knew.

He was offering his best. Best cups. Best chai. Best bread. Best space.

And I felt deep shame for my thinking.

Shame. Saturated down low in my heart.

In America, I am comfortable and filled with wealth. In Africa, I traveled from international spaces to Kenyan spaces only found two minutes down a bumpy, unpaved road. The contrast was extraordinary.

Kenyans living their best and giving their best. While this unworthy American girl (me) sat watching in uneasiness – until being made aware.

How do we separate, step back from, or even become aware of our thinking? Of the derogatory. Of the hate. Of the uneasiness. Of the unsure. Of the fear.

With others, we are made to stare at our blindspots. Those deep, dark pits of weakness that arise in time.

I was made aware of my fear.

And, fear separated me from giving fully. Fully giving.

Are we sitting on the love seat with a straight posture? Unwilling to sink in deep and let our vulnerability show out of fear?

I’m learning how my posture, both my body and my spirit, affect others differently. What does “us Christians” look like to “them unbelievers?”

Do they even want what they see in me?

My new African friend didn’t see love from my actions. And he stirred my heart with his simple words.

I’m learning to ask questions and to foster a thankful heart for where God is placing me. What does serving look like when I feel uncomfortable in a new place? What does my posture look like, and am I going out instead of inviting people only into my known?

I’m taking small steps of faith to garner a heart that brings me lower.

Puts “me” under “them” and raises up.

Raising up fills space with love, not fear.

“When our lives are given to silence and prayerful reflection, we position ourselves to cultivate generosity of spirit, as opposed to flaring up antagonisms. Our culture of thoughtless, instant critique reveals a glaring departure from the witness of Jesus. In a sound-bite age, we too easily replace a spirituality of grace and truth with smugness and cynicism.” Rich Villodas