Tag Archives: dance in worship

Worship in the Afternoon and Forgiveness in the Morning

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Our afternoon worship session (4-6 PM) was the best attended, besides prime time.  Felicity was in the zone, having really gotten in touch with her vocalization and riffing.  But of course, it’s not about the music as much as it is about the heart.  Her heart was clearly worshiping God, and that is what bumped her vocal style to the next level (perhaps even a few levels).

Bethany has shown a real talent for the flags.  She is able to make them dance in some really beautiful ways.  I love the flags, but I’m not at all good at it, and I’ve never waved them without the stick hitting something.  I figured that I should probably stop now before I put someone’s eye out.

After the session, I was feeling very tired, and wanted nothing more than to return to the hotel and sleep—yes, this was at six in the evening.  We have done late night, early morning, wee hours, and so forth, so that now I just need to go rest when my body says so, no matter what the hour.  So I went to the cloak room to put on my jacket.  The others were behind me and they were invited to share Communion with a couple of German men.  I saw Felicity go to her knees, and I knew that this could be a while, so I walked back to the hotel alone.

The following day, we were upstairs in the church’s coffee shop.  Felicity told me that she needed to talk with me.  So we went into the prayer room, which was empty for the first time (no babies, no nursing mothers, no small children).  There she told me about the German men inviting them to share Communion.  She said that she immediately realized that she needed to repent.  She confessed that she had been holding anger and unforgiveness in her heart because of Europe’s involvement with the African slave trade (Felicity is African-American).  She poured out her heart about how much she hates when people want to touch her hair or ask her what African country she comes from—she doesn’t know because her ancestors were kidnapped and taken to America as slaves.

We wept together for both her pain and for the loss of her heritage and culture.  Felicity knows that these are innocent things not intended to wound her, but she can’t deny the pain they cause her.  Before she took Communion, she knelt to forgive the Europeans, and to ask God to forgive her.

In the next teaching session, when we were invited to share our experiences at Tabernacles, Felicity asked me if she should share her pain and to ask forgiveness.  I told her that if that’s what she wants to do, she should do it.  So she did.  And several people told her that they forgive her.  But some people have since acted differently around her, avoiding her, particularly the German girls because it had involved their friends.

At the end of the teaching session, they called forward all the young people (those 30 and under), and we prayed for them.  I came and prayed specifically for Felicity.  The Holy Spirit urged me to also repent and ask her forgiveness for my ancestors’ part in the slave trade because my people, though not rich landowners, had some slaves nevertheless.  I had never felt personally responsible for the slave trade because it was all over and done with long before I was born, and I have always treated Felicity with the same kindness and respect that I treat all my friends.  But sins curse lasts to the 4th generation, and it was right for me to repent and confess the sin so that its curse could be completely broken.  Felicity forgave without hesitation, and we wept in each other’s arms.  It was a very cleansing moment for me.  Later she told me that nobody had ever asked forgiveness for the slave trade before.  It was very hard, but I am really glad that I did it.  It was the right thing to do.

Our last session was 6-8 AM.  I woke up half an hour before the alarm, and began to pray.  One person God led me to pray for particularly was Felicity.  Then God gave me a word for her: Isaiah 41:10:

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous Right Hand.

And the Lord’s word to Felicity went something like this (I don’t remember it exactly):

I have felt every blow and every insult, whether intentional or not.  I know your pain, but I will take the pain away.  It is no accident that you are here.  You are here for your healing.  Receive your healing.  You are My beloved daughter.  You are loved.  You have value.

This prophecy came to me in the form of a song, and the Lord told me to sing this to Felicity—on the platform in the church.  I realized that this could be a very emotional moment for her, and I felt like it would be best if she knew that it was coming, rather than surprising her.  So we walked together to church while the others were still gathering themselves.  I told her about the word, without telling her what it is, and asked her when she wanted it: early in the session (when there are likely to be fewer people) or later in the session (when she won’t have to struggle with emotions and tears while trying to sing).  She told me she wanted it early, and asked me why I had to sing it.  I told her about how God had healed me to sing (see Dancing in My Dreams).  She said, “Oh, I get it!  Killing two birds with one song!”  Yeah, that’s exactly it!

So, the sanctuary wasn’t completely empty, but we warned the others about what was going to happen, and we proceeded.  Being first thing in the morning, and early morning at that, my voice was terrible.  But I sang anyway.  Felicity cried, but not a whole lot, and was able to go on with worship without any problems.  It was a nice worship session, nothing spectacular, but full of the right heart for God.  God is good!

Worshiping in Prime Time

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We gathered for prayer half an hour before our prime time worship: 8-10 PM, but had some trouble finding a place to pray in peace.  The church’s prayer rooms had been taken over by nursing mothers with their babies and small children.  They needed a quiet corner, too.  I understand.  So we went to the sanctuary to look for a quiet place there.  But being prime time, there were people all over the place, in every little corner, even in the coat room.

Then Giuseppe suggested the music storage room.  It’s small and crowded with instruments, but it’s just big enough and quiet enough to do the trick.  So we crammed in there and prayed together that our worship would truly glorify God, and that we ourselves would stay humble and submitted to Him.  Amen.  And we got briefly drunk in the Holy Spirit, laughing like idiots.

Then Giuseppe looked around.  There’s a problem.  Where is the bass guitar?  It wasn’t there!  Then we discovered that the electric guitar was also missing.  We did eventually manage to find a bass guitar, and just did without the electric guitar.

Giuseppe, as musical director, had Daniele take the acoustic guitar, and Felicity concentrate on singing.  Her voice is very sweet, but sometimes it’s a bit tentative and often hard to hear.  Perhaps it was because she didn’t have a guitar in her hands that her voice was stronger, and being stronger, it was lovely and lost none of its sweetness.

As worship leader, Felicity made no song list this time, deciding just to wing it and see what songs the Holy Spirit leads us to do.  This led to long pauses between songs, and songs that repeated and repeated and repeated.  I don’t know how the musicians felt, but it was sort of driving me crazy.  It had the same effect on Bethany, who tried suggesting songs when we seemed to be stuck for a direction.  But when a direction was found, it was wonderful.

During one of the livelier songs, I pulled out a couple of whistles and handed one to a boy that was dancing near us, while I blew the other.  He was hesitant at first, but then blew the whistle with great gusto.  A big fellow seated in the front, right in front of me, got up during a lively song and started to dance just like Dancing Bear on Captain Kangaroo (for those old enough to remember).  Then he grabbed a tambourine and started keeping time with the music.  Several young girls picked up flags and started dancing and waving flags.  I love it when we share a moment like that.  It was such fun!

There was a definite anointing, which everybody felt.  That made the two hours fly by before we even knew it.  When the next group came in and started to set up, I felt such deep disappointment at having to stop that I didn’t even want to go back to the hotel to sleep.  The big fellow hugged me and thanked me for the worship session.  All thanks and glory and praise goes to God!  God is good!

Serendipity—Another Word for Coincidence

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Dictionary.com defines serendipity as having an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident; good fortune or luck.  http://dictionary.reference.com/.  If you know God, then you know that He is in control, and there are no accidental desirable discoveries nor luck.

I started to write the first part of this post between flights back in August when I returned to Texas to help Mom move to another state.  Moving is a very busy, exhausting activity, so I had never finished writing it.  The second part happened yesterday afternoon, and the third part happened this morning, which served as the catalyst to finish writing.

My Brazilian Buddies

Greetings from Dallas!

Today is a travel day, so I’m writing this between flights.  I came back to the US to help my mom move.  When I checked in at Milan Malpensa Airport three hours ahead, like they say to do, of course there was no one to check in with.  I don’t know why I keep showing up three hours early for these early morning flights, but having missed a flight because of a very crowded airport check in line, I want to avoid missing another flight.  The only other people there were a Brazilian father and daughter.  They were also flying across the Atlantic today.  We talked, and became friends, trapped together as we were, waiting for a ticketing agent to show up.

A ticket agent did eventually show up and check us into our flight.  We were flying to Frankfurt first, and then I would fly to Dallas.  When I was checked in, and passed through security, I found my gate at the far end of the terminal.  But we had stood there waiting for the ticket agent for such a long time (over an hour) that I felt like I needed to walk the kinks out.  And since I wanted to buy a bottle of water and a last cappuccino before leaving Italy, I walked past our gate area in search of an open coffee shop.  I heard someone running up behind me, with urgency in his voice saying, “Signora!  Signora!”  I turned around and it was the Brazilian father.  He told me, “The gate is back this way.”  I thanked him, explaining about the need for a walk and a cappuccino.

Having satisfied both needs, I returned to the gate and sat in the open seat next to the father and daughter.  While waiting for boarding I became very drowsy.  Father and daughter got to their feet and headed for the line as soon as boarding started.  I waited, in no hurry to be confined to an airline seat any longer than absolutely necessary.  So they were among the first to board, while I was one of the very last.

On the plane I found my seat, stowed my backpack, buckled up, and promptly fell into a deep sleep.  Those who know me know of my ability to fall asleep quickly and deeply sitting up in a car or on a plane.  I believe that this is a gift from God for a missionary who travels as much as I do for ministry.

As we were about to land I woke up and reached for the bottle of water that I had brought.  In my peripheral vision I saw a boldly striped blue shirt on the person sitting next to me—it was the Brazilian father with his daughter next to him in the window seat.  “It’s you!”  I exclaimed, and we laughed about how I had been so sleepy that I hadn’t even looked to see who was sitting next to me.  I told them that it had been very pleasant traveling with them, even if I hadn’t known it was them.  And as we parted, I wished them a buon viaggio (good travels).  And I marveled at how funny life is sometimes.

Going to Church

Yesterday was my favorite day of the week: Sunday.  I love Sunday because I love going to church.  I love going to church so much that I go to my own church in the morning, and another in the afternoon.  I go to two churches in the US, too.  The reason I love going to church is not the music (though the music is excellent) or the preaching (which is also excellent) or even the fellowship (which is wonderful).  The reason I love going to church is because I always go expecting to meet God—and I’m never disappointed!  When you expect to meet God, He always shows up.

I go and sit as close to the front as I’m allowed (some churches reserve the very front row for leaders and/or the worship team).  I sit down front so that I won’t be distracted.  This is especially important if the service is in Italian, which it is at my home church here in Milan.  From that place down front I find freedom to worship God with complete abandon.  In the past years when I sat back toward the middle, I found that I became self-conscious because those around me didn’t raise their hands or dance in worship.  Down front, where I can’t see what others are or are not doing, I just worship God from my heart and my spirit, completely uninhibited.  It is possible that there are people behind me watching me and wondering what kind of an exhibitionist-lunatic I am.  But since I can’t see them, and since I don’t know what they’re thinking, it doesn’t concern me in the least.  I would rather be David than Michal, and being down front allows me the freedom to dance like David (2 Samuel 6:16-23).

After church I went home with the intention to rest and then go to the afternoon service of the sweet little church in Monza.  But I rested a little too well and fell asleep.  When I woke up, it was clear that I would be late getting to church, even if each train was right there, waiting to take me.  I considered going to the church up the road, instead.  But when I prayed about it, I felt like God wanted me to go catch the train to Monza.

So I walked to the train station, and once inside, I was coming off the stairs and onto the platform when a young man said, “Do you speak English?”  I said yes, and he asked if the train would stop at the Porta Garibaldi train station—the same train station that I needed to take to get to Monza.  I explained that all the trains on the Passante line stop at all the stations in the city.  Relieved, he asked me if I was on vacation, and I told him that I’m a missionary here.  His smile got wider, and he said, “Well, what do you know!  I’m on my way to church.”  He explained that he just arrived from Australia as a student, and that his mother had found him an English-speaking church on the internet.  It was one I had heard of, but it had closed down some years earlier, as far as I knew.

Now it was my turn to smile more broadly, I said, “Hey!  If it’s OK with you, I’ll go with you.”  He was very happy to have my company, so we went together, following the directions sent to him via e-mail.

It turns out that the English-speaking church has a mostly young congregation composed of students, like my new Aussie friend.  The music was great and the preaching was solid.  I love young churches!  This was truly a gift from God—and all because I was late for church!  God is good!

Coming to Church

But that’s not the whole story of so-called serendipity.  The pastor of my home church in Milan made an announcement yesterday as the service was ending, saying that the last Sunday of the month would be evangelism Sunday, and that we should each bring someone to church with us.  I prayed about who I should invite, and Barbara immediately came to mind.

I have known Barbara for most of my eleven years in Milan.  And I’ve often wondered if she might be one of the reasons why God keeps me in this neighborhood, where I’m currently occupying my third apartment.

This morning I had to go to the gas company to set an appointment for them to turn on the gas.  On the way home I stopped by the street market to buy a few things.  I love walking through the street markets, but today it was drizzling.  Rainy days at the street market can be miserable, but drizzle isn’t so bad.  Suddenly, there was Barbara.  I’ve had it happen before that I’ll be thinking of her and she suddenly is there.  Between her work, my travel, and my move, I hadn’t seen her for over a year.  We had a joyous reunion right there in the market, and I invited her to come to church.  I had invited her before, but something always interfered and stopped her from coming.  She assured me of her interest, but said that she doesn’t know if she will have to work.  So I told her that I will call her on Saturday.

Barbara has been interested and asking questions for years now, and this time I believe that she will come to church and meet her Savior.  Serendipity?  No way!  This is the hand of God, and God is good!