I wake up to the Indian morning birds trilling. The warm rolling murmur of the men outside and below my window speaking on the grass. The tinny metal sound of a motor here and there. A woman coughs in a house near by.
The electricity goes off for an hour and a half every morning. So, at six o’clock the warmth wakes me gently like a kiss on my forehead.
I’m waking up to a new country in more ways than one, though. I’m waking up to a slower pace if walking and doing. I’m waking up to a closer connection with people. I’m waking up to a stronger sense of danger and of urgency. And I’m just beginning to wake up to the spiritual world manifest in a new way through this new country.
Here, the people are deeply spiritual. Here, the demons have voices and speak. Here, there is a slow movement of disciple making rising up slight but with gaining strength.
And so I am waking up to what spiritual armor is for. I’m waking up to the Spirit and the thick, sweet fragrance of the Spirit of God. I’m waking up. It’s time to begin.