Purpose is Powerful

The tiny flashlight waves up and down in the Nairobi predawn darkness, just a speck of light, but it’s there. Traffic inches along as the vehicles cautiously merge from the onramp into the foreboding highway traffic. Busses, matatus and cars anxiously try to avoid crunching metal to metal as the slow commute into the city marches on. Police officers stand tall with their reflective yellow vests, trying to keep sleepy drivers from gridlock, their bright flashlights motioning when cars should stop and when they should proceed. Behind them, maybe just 20 meters, a little dot of light keeps motioning up and down, encouraging the drivers to move along.

I have seen this little light many times on my morning commute to Wilson airport.

I have seen this little light many times on my morning commute to Wilson airport. As I idle along in traffic, I see the little light’s owner standing on the curb enduring belches of black diesel fumes as busses painfully attempt to accelerate up the highway’s incline. He seems impervious to the thick exhaust which engulfs his whole body, continuing to wave his light in a flurry, mimicking the policemen standing nearby.

I have seen this thin, thirty-something man many times before as he stands on the curb directing the traffic, as I plod along at a snail’s pace. I have tried numerous times to get his attention by waving or giving him a big thumbs up in thanks for being out there every day. He wakes up so early each morning to bring out his little light. But I am unable to distract him from his work as he stares blankly down the road into the oncoming traffic. He offers me no acknowledgement, for he is not really standing on that curb in his worn, dirty clothes. No, he is somewhere far away, perhaps right in the heart of Nairobi’s Central Business District, wearing his shiny blue police uniform with brass buttons running down his chest.

He wakes up so early each morning to bring out his little light.

I am so thankful for the police who let him stay in the background shining his small speck of light. For they could run him off, telling him it is too dangerous for him to be on that curb. And they would be right. It isn’t the safest place for him. The safest place for him would be at an institution, mindlessly staring at a TV for 12 hours a day. For on that busy highway curb, where drivers are focused on not getting squashed by merging busses, the thought of pedestrians is far from their minds.

But the police patrolling that area see something perhaps more important than his safety in this situation. For they know that the thin man, whose tiny flashlight doesn’t even have a lens, but only a pathetically dim bulb protruding from a makeshift light, will never really get to be a policeman. He will never really get to walk the beat wearing his shiny uniform with brass buttons. He will never really get to raise his hand to officially tell people to stop or motion the cars to go. The police patrolling that section of highway see something more in that man than just a disabled person. They see a man who has purpose. Purpose in wanting to direct traffic and help us on our way each morning. Purpose in wanting to have a job and to be depended upon. Purpose in having value and making a difference to others. And the police, morning by morning, give him that respect, ensuring he has that purpose. Purpose is powerful.

Purpose is powerful.

Time has passed since I last saw him on that curb. My commute has changed in that time to an alternate route, but I think of him often. I wonder if something has happened to him. Did his family move him somewhere far away? Or perhaps he has found a better curb on which to direct traffic, perhaps one in the heart of the city. An intersection that needed him even more, I hope. I may never know.

But I do know how he has encouraged me. I remember his dim little ray of light and how early he would get up each morning to shine it, maybe 4:00 or 4:30am. Dressing in his dingy clothes that would make Goodwill cringe, he hustled to his curb to help with the morning Nairobi jam. How powerful the littlest light can be, for I can still see it waving frantically up and down in the dark morning hours saying, “I am here to help you, if you will only notice me.”

I can still see it waving frantically up and down in the dark morning hours saying, “I am here to help you, if you will only notice me.”

Jesus said, “…let your light shine before men that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in Heaven.” Father, I praise you for this man and his desire to go and help others each morning. Thank you for letting me be a part of his life. He has brought so much encouragement to me!

~Dan