Walking Among Lions

They walk among lions.
Literally.
These people are not of our world.
Bodies wrapped in red, blue and purple robes...
Gauged earlobes stretched almost beyond limit by white and metal beads...
We watched them herd their cattle through zebras and about a mile down the road, 12 lions were laid out in the sun.

They walk with spear in one hand, hit stick on one hip, machete on the other and "go to work" every day, meandering their cows and goats to the grasslands and waterholes... where every other African animal, hyena or warthog, lion or cheetah is headed as well. With walls made of cow manure and roofs made of grass, their houses and families await them back in the village, most of the time, behind walls of acacia thorns to ward of any determined predator. These are the ones we were sent to this past month.

Centuries of age old tradition cloak them in more than just unique outer adornments but a beautifully ingrained need to protect, guard and care for that which is theirs. This includes their tribal identity. It was astonishing to see an entire culture centered around "who they are", without racing to be on the cutting edge with the rest of the planet. They are who they are and are determined to remain that way, unmoved by the rest of the world, unapologetic for being "different".

Living in the national park "Ngorongoro Crater", they exist in a society where there is a group of people still given the title "warriors". Why? Because they are. It is their entire identity. Once they become a specific age, their sole job is protecting the tribe from the wild animals and in past years, any attacking tribe. They do not even share a meal with another member of the tribe who is not a warrior, for even their consumption of food is wrapped up in who they are. In years past, killing a lion was a huge right of passage for them, which has since been stopped by the government. They were known as "lion hunters". They are still allowed to kill a lion if it attacks one of them or their cattle, and when going on the hunt, no one will show fear. It would be disgraceful to be afraid, and that person would be labeled before the entire village as coward.

Falling asleep that night in my tent to the sounds of the nearby hyenas, I couldn't get over the feeling that I had walked among lions that day, not the animals in the near vicinity but these incredible people. A people who have had to be so fierce for so long. They have fiercely held onto their identity, despite the efforts of an outside world to "modernize" them, fiercely guarded their families from harm, fiercely combated drought and long journeys with cattle to grazing grounds, lion-like in their intensity.

We had the opportunity to pray with a man from this beautiful tribe going through a difficult time. Before we prayed, we talked about the value of surrendering ourselves to a God who loves us. When we allow Jesus access into our lives, it requires surrender of ourselves to Him. Explaining that if there was someone coming into your house with a gun, you would instinctively throw up your hands to show him that you will not fight against him. We suggested that as a sign of what was taking place in his heart between him and the Lord, he could choose to lift up his hands as we pray- a sign of surrender to the love of God. While we prayed, he stretched his hands up to heaven as far as they would go, even his shoulders lifted. Before leaving, Javen's dad hugged him, holding him as a father would. And that was when I saw a lion hunter cry...

Jesus is inviting a group of people, who have had to be lion-like in their strength through the centuries, to surrender to His strength. His grace can carry them. His love can uphold them. Without changing who they are, He is revealing Whose they are... a realization that will cause even the fiercest of warriors to bow their knee to the One who has been fighting for their hearts all along.