This is the first in a series of four reflections on my time in Africa:

• Pineapples
• Vuvuzelas
• Laundry
• Trash Cans

As I sit here this morning writing, my mind is drawn back five months. I was sitting at the dining table in my friend Kwaku's home in Lome, Togo. Earlier in the day Anita and I had told him all the wonderful things we'd heard about fruit in Africa, and how we were anxious to taste some of the local treats, so he'd gone out and purchased a pineapple, an acquisition he was now showing us. Quite honestly, I wasn't all that impressed. The fruit was sort of a short scraggly tube with a few browning leaves poking out of one end, and, for a moment, I wondered if this was one of the farmer's rejects, the runt of the pineapple litter. After all, in my experience, pineapple were supposed to be much larger at the base and narrow slightly towards the top before a beautiful array of leaves crowned the fruit. However, not wanting to be rude to my host, I tried to show great joy on the surface, perhaps overly so, because I was trying to disguise the disappointment underneath. When it came time for the meal itself, the pineapple was the final item placed on the table. Once again, I found myself less than impressed. Rather than having that beautiful yellow color that I was accustom to, this pineapple was white. If I wasn't so curious, my disappointment might have prevented me from trying any, but the wonder lingered as, earlier in the day, Kwaku had talked about this being pineapple that was grown in the wild ... no hybrid seeds, no carefully managed farms, no chemicals, just pineapple as God intended it. So what does "pineapple as God intended it" taste like? It's magnificent. It's the most amazing pineapple I've ever tasted. The pineapple taste is more pure and the fruit is so incredibly sweet. Even the core of the pineapple, the piece that Dole cuts out when they sell it to you in cans, is edible. No, it's not just edible, it's the best part of the pineapple, and when you bite into it, your mouth is filled with the most incredible sweetness, unlike anything I've experienced in the States. While other pineapples win a beauty contest, all-natural African pineapples reign supreme where it matters most ... taste. This pineapple reality parallels something I've notice in Christianity, a religion with a plethora of denominations that have some broad similarities, typically that they use the Bible and talk about Jesus, but also with a wide range of differences, including how they use and interpret the Bible and how they understand the person and work of Jesus. Some of these variants of Christianity, like the pineapple I'd find in the grocery store down the street, is rather appealing to the eye. Be it Jesus as a sure route to health, wealth, and happiness; the Bible as the world's largest depository of self-help tips; Jesus as the champion of whatever cause I'm associated with; or just an affirmation that I'm better than (insert one or more of the following: the gays, the pro-choicers, the Democrats, etc. ... or if you're part of the liberal or emerging factions: James Dobson, Pat Robertson, the Republicans, the environmentally unconscious, etc.). I mean, in the end, no matter who I am, there's a brand of Christianity out there that's attractive to you. Then there's this other story, the all-natural African pineapple version of Christianity, the one that doesn't look good to anybody. It's ugly because it starts with humanity being fallen, not in the sense that we're incapable of civility, compassion, and concern directed towards our neighbors, but in the sense that we have no ability to reach a God who is the very essence of good on our own, and therefore an inability to grasp what is truly good ... a reality that chides our independent, self-sufficient nature. It's a Christianity that would call us to say, "I'm a sinner." as we speak our core-being, a statement that's far more offensive than saying, "I've committed sins." when talking about our individual actions. But the ugly doesn't stop there, rather, it only increases. This faith doesn't promise us riches or comfort, rather it tells us that life will be about death to self and sacrifice for others. To make it uglier still, there's no room for self-help in this faith, because it boldly declares that we can't help ourselves, rather, we're dependent upon Christ coming to us and save us from ourselves. As if that wasn't enough, it's even uglier to our eyes because it's a Christianity that gives us no reason to be proud or to disparage others, because even our faith that clings to Christ's promises is a gift from God ... we've done nothing, so we have no room to boast. Oddly enough, it's for the same reasons that it's ugly, that I find this version of Christianity to be so very sweet. Because it's all about Jesus, his faithfulness to me, and the trustworthy nature of his promises, there's never any doubt. There's no question on my part about being good enough. There's no wondering when life gets difficult if God has somehow abandoned me. I never have to wonder why we can't seem to get it right. Moreover, there's an incredible freedom that comes with it, freedom to live and act and serve and love knowing even when I fail, Christ is there. That's the Christianity I cling to, and it's the Christianity I teach ... it certainly looks ugly on the outside, but once you bite into it, there's nothing sweeter.