the ace...

Last weekend I was sitting on a beach here in Liberia, the warm sand between my toes, watching a typically amazing African sunset. I was drinking a lukewarm, locally brewed, Club Beer and talking to a couple of friends when suddenly, my train of thought was derailed by the audible collision of two worlds. I wondered if what I was hearing was real.

"On a warm summer’s evenin’ on a train bound for nowhere,
I met up with the gambler; we were both too tired to sleep.
So we took turns a starin’ out the window at the darkness
’til boredom overtook us, and he began to speak."

It got louder and louder…the off beat strum of a five-out-of-six string guitar…and a Liberian woman … moving slowing from plastic table to plastic table…serenading the beach club patrons.

"You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done."

She was belting it out. Loud and proud, as Africans tend to sing...deep from the heart and soul. Of course the Liberian English version of this Kenny Rogers song is slightly different than the original cut. I can’t really even spell the words. But I heard clearly, she sang five unique verses.

My friends and I smiled at each other as we found her voice filling our minds and pushing out whatever it was we were talking about.

“Now ev’ry gambler knows that the secret to survivin’
Is knowin’ what to throw away and knowing what to keep.
’cause ev’ry hand’s a winner and ev’ry hand’s a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.”

Here we sat under our thatched umbrella, in a part of the world where, for so many people, simply “survivin’” is an everyday focus…a task to be accomplished. Dying in your sleep is a pretty good way to go here. I haven’t ever tried too hard to understand this Kenny Rogers song myself but I wondered if the guitar-playing Liberian woman understood any of the storyline in the words she was singing? I thought it ironic that this women (who stastically lives on less than $130 a year and will likely not survive to see her 50th birthday) was walking from table to table singing about life and sadness and money and death and strategy.

“Somewhere in the darkness the gambler, he broke even,” according to the song. But will this woman break even? Will the people of Liberia break even? It doesnt seem like a fair deal to me. I think it costs a lot to live here. Not just because a box of Wheaties is over $6.00 at the local supermarket that caters to NGOs. But I think it costs a lot for a Liberian to live here. To battle the uphill climb of survival each day. To wonder if your child will die of malaria, or typhoid, or AIDS. To watch the fragile tendril of peace as it gets battered by corruption, selfishness, and greed. To not have a hope beyond today. I think I’d be tempted to “fold ‘em” if I had been dealt the hand of most people living here in Liberia.

So where is the ace?

My heart is hurting for those who are dealt what seems a losing hand. I know that Jesus is the only hope for all of us…in Liberia or anywhere else. But I find a key to my doubting faith in the final words of Jesus to Thomas:
“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:29)

Believe and we shall see the reality of Jesus.