A Fire Quenched, A Light Dimmed, Salt of Weak Flavor.

I listened to a song this morning, "Jesus Move" by Big Daddy Weave. 

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Let the power of God fall down on us
Let Your power fall down right now

For Your Glory and You only
What You say is what we’ll do
Let Your passion become action
Holy Spirit come move

Jesus we’re alive to glorify Your Name
Let Your Spirit rise among us now as we sing
Jesus move

Jesus move

Jesus move

 

Let the Spirit of God pour out on us
Let Your Spirit Pour out right now
For Your Glory and You only
What You say is what we’ll do
Let Your passion become action
Holy Spirit come move

Let the love of God come alive in us
Let Your love come alive right now

For Your Glory and You only
What You say is what we’ll do
Let Your passion become action
Holy Spirit come move

‘Cause we don’t want to leave until we’re changed
So here in our hearts Lord have Your way

‘Cause we don’t want to leave until we’re changed
So here in our hearts God have Your way

Jesus we’re alive to glorify Your Name
Let Your Spirit rise among us now as we sing
Jesus move

Jesus move

Jesus move

 

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I listen to these verses and I reflect on the church of Africa.  I recall their abandon in pure worship.  I remember their pure love for one another and in their serve.  I was bathed in the pure joy and contentment that removed from them the bondage of the "stuff" and "things" that hinder our hearts and lives.   I deeply desire for my church...my church family to grasp simply a glimmer of this type of worship and passion for the One that created them, loves them, and died for them.  

 

I have witnessed that our worship is as dried bones. 

Our fire is quenched. 

Our light is dimmed. and our salt is of weak flavor.

Our praise and worship for Christ Jesus is our sole purpose for being here.  We are created to fellowship with Him to dwell with Him in intimate relationship.  The American Church and the Christianity that many of us grow up with doesn't even scratch the surface of what could be.  The power that can be in our lives when we allow our Spirit to have complete abandon in praise and worship of HIM!!  

 

It will take change, every single day, putting aside US and allowing HIM in.  I preach to myself and point a finger at my own life in this.  I am beyond sick and tired of the mediocre, luke-warm, religion that I attempt to pass off as relationship.  Doing the "disciplines" because I am a "good little Christian lady".  Doing the "right thing" for the wrong reasons...I am sick of it!  All that He is and all that He has done for me, why wouldn't I let down my religious facade and be completely HIS!  The moment I stepped foot into the worship experience of that African church, my entire being, my entire Spirit...swelled.  I was completely over taken and overwhelmed.  Tears streamed down my face, for no words would be able to explain and do it justice.  God was there.  God's hand stirred my heart and my soul.  

I can have that now.  I can have that here if I am sincere, open, humble, submissive and striving for holiness.  We can experience a relationship in worship and praise of our Lord God in a way we have never experienced before!  The curtain is torn, still, and the throne room is open, still!  I am completely His and I want to give myself completely over to Him - a living sacrifice. 

Unpacking, Not Just The Bags.

It is difficult to fathom that roughly thirteen days ago I was with a team on the other side of the world, serving in Tanzania, Africa.  These past few days I have been attempting to process the events, the people I met, and what the Holy Spirit has laid upon my heart.  At the same time, I have had to grieve the death of my Grandfather, J.W. Crowder, from afar.  It really all just hit me this morning.

I recall the children that we interacted with; their enormous smiles, their eagerness to learn, their over-whelming joy!  I see that young girl from the service on Sunday.  She stood beside me, holding my hand, an absolute stranger.  She would see the golden blonde strands of stray hair hanging off the back of one member of our team, who was standing in front of her.  She would ever so gently, take these loose stray strands and grasp them gently in her hands...rubbing her cheek, trying to smell it.  Totally amazed by the shimmering strands she held in her hands. Precious her new discovery.

Each morning, as we came to the work-site, they would greet us; "Habari"...."Murzuri"....Welcome!!  Their big love over flowing onto us.  This is how community should look!  This is how real love, sacrificial love should be demonstrated.  They would take our load from us.  Both our physical load (the boxes of water bottles or supplies) and with their smiles...emotional loads & fatigue as well.  I deeply cherished their complete abandon in the morning devotions before the strenuous daily work was to begin.  Clapping in rhythm and singing a song praising God, thankful for everything they have even for the job not yet complete, regardless how simple it may be by our standards.

On Tuesday evening I had received word that my Grandfather had died. I had spoken with one of the pastors there on site about how I was doing.  I explained to him how my Baboo (Grandfather) had gone to live with Yesu (Jesus) and how I didn't want the others to see me crying, I didn't know how it would be taken.  He explained to me that "Africans cry and sorrow deeply".  This statement did not surprise me, since their worship was so full, they are not a people that are luke-warm.  He words comforted me.  It gave me strength to finish my journey strong, just as PawPaw would have wanted.  

In my strange way, I found fascination in the little things - things that would otherwise be overlooked.  God used dirt to speak to me.  Each morning on our walk to the church & work-site I would look down at the ground in front of me.  As I watched the dust and dirt before me, I would see hundreds of sets of footprints.  Some of these prints were barefoot imprints others were shoe prints.  Some of these were even the imprints of our very team.  We were leaving an imprint in foreign soil.  God spoke to me in the simplicity of dirt. 

He again used dirt the morning  we were to leave.  We were to share with the community on Saturday morning, again, looking down as I headed into the church, I see sweeping designs brushed into the dirt beneath my feet.  I recalled the woman who was "sweeping" at our hostile. She used a crude, handle-less tied together bunch of branches.  Hunched over, she swept away the dirt that blew in overnight.  Here before me, was the evidence of that same sweeping.  Apparently that morning a woman from the congregation had swept half moon designs in the dirt and dust down the side along the church.  This simple act, reflected her sacrificial stewardship toward the house of God. 

Upon our return home, I have been asked how I feel about our trip.  After these and many more experiences, part of me is angry at how callous we are toward our worship services.  How we take everything we have and everything we are for granted.  We are abundantly blessed and yet we selfishly and greedily scrape for more.    I remember the young children with their flip-flops held together by scrap cloth.  Their clothes torn, tattered, and yet their worship was wide open and their love enormous!  Then I recall some of the students here that will be heading back to school in the following weeks and their feeling of entitlement that all of their supplies should be new and they simply couldn't show their face without that perfect new outfit.    

Where have all our priorities gone?  Does God simply shake His head in disapproval?  We have become a luke-warm Christian culture that simply wishes to be entertained and appeased.  Tickle our ears for an hour but heaven forbid that one minute of the message will influence the remainder of my life Monday through Friday.  Oh and if the message offends me, I will simply pull up and head out (as Pastor said) to one of the other flavors of churches out there, who will entertain and cater to me.  Yes, a part of me is angry and disappointed at myself for just going with the flow and being content with mediocre.   

The title "Christ-follower" takes on a whole new meaning now.  As my Dad revealed to me, I have a big heart and on this trip, my heart was completely broken.  I am not done "unpacking" everything going on in me just yet.  But I sincerely, deeply praise God for the opportunity that He provided for me to go and experience real love, real joy, and real contentment. 

Following His Call in Leaps of Faith.

Two weeks ago my husband and I heard "the calling" to go to Mwanza Tanzania.  Of course my husband heard the call a lot louder than I did.  I processed it.  Wrestled with it.  Was this really God that I hearing or was it just a selfish desire to get out of the country for the first time.  On Wednesday, January 15, the clip from the Indiana Jones movie, Last Crusade, played over and over in my mind.  What was I not letting go?  Why was I doubting the prompting that the Holy Spirit was planting this in me?  Why wasn't I allowing myself to be used in a way that is proving to be way beyond my comfort zone. I also felt the prompt - ask your daughter.  WOW...that is really beyond my understanding and ability.

The excitement soared for the opportunity for my daughter to see a new land and the lives of children God could use her to change.  As well as the growth and change that could occur in her.  Very few teens could experience this type of trip the summer before their senior year.  I called her that Saturday for her to consider it.  I explained to her the deadline to commit, would be that coming Wednesday.  I heard nothing for twenty four hours.  When I did...my elated heart crumbled.  Sunday afternoon she text me explaining that she "didn't think she was ready to be that far away".  I pressed her, knowing there just had to more to it.  Then the truth..."I don't feel comfortable enough to be that far away from Dad."  My heart was grieved.  I knew that this trip would be a turning point for her.  But I didn't realize that just the process preparing for this trip would be a turning point in my life as well.

As you can imagine I am a fixer, organizer and I enjoy the predictable.  To have the "call" to go to Africa, with my husband, God was truly going to stretch me.  In my own power, I was beginning to formulate where and how the funds would  be made.  Creating my spreadsheets, I began an endless array of check lists.  God must have smiled to Himself as He saw the "Martha" in me.  Slowly, He would prove that He has His way of aligning us.  And He used my parents and a wise co-worker to bring me there.

On Tuesday, January 28th I made the phone call to my parents early in the morning on my why into work.  Their response was not what I expected.  "Do you think this is a good idea," "[my daughter] is wise to decline, she may just be thinking about college", "what about your debts, this is going to be an expensive trip".  After I hung up my entire countenance changed.  The wind had been ripped from my sails.  Questions swirled around, just as my old self use to do, and a grip like a vise squeezed my chest.  What have I done?  What have I committed to?  Surely God isn't calling me to do something this rash and impulsive?  I will never be able to raise these kind of funds in six months.  Then the email confirmation came of the vaccines.  Dollar signs pounded me.  Again another punch in the gut!  How can I honestly be called if I can't even afford the vaccines.  

For two days I wrestled harder with the Holy Spirit and my selfish control.  I kept it to myself but finally, in my frustration, text my husband.  He's response "we'll talk this evening".  In further frustration I bent the ear of a co-worker who was also heading out into "the field" later in the Fall.  She asked me direct questions to quickly get to the root of the matter.  She told me that I was trapped right back in my past, listening to the voices of doubt, belittling, and fear.  Later that night, my husband, unknowing the contents of the conversation earlier in the day, said the exact same thing.  I had to shed those thoughts and negative beliefs to truly allow God to work.  I had to leap.  I was standing on the ledge, looking at the chasm beneath me.  By my human eyes, it looked just like all the rest I had seen in my past.  "You can't do this"..."it's too big for you"...."God doesn't work like that"..."you're not ready".  Those same words - the same chasm - that had defeated me in my own strength.  This time was different.  When I allowed myself to align with God and His perspective, He will make the way.  I only have to be obedient....and leap.