A Joyful Chaos

On Friday night the Haitians held an all-night worship service. Like, all night. Leading up to it, Linds, Abs and I were talking big like we'd last the whole time and then catch a wink on the roof beneath the stars, you know, finish with a bang seeing that it was Lindsey's last night with us. By Friday night, we showed up to the church and realized our endurance was fading fast, and all epic plans fizzled out. But for the time that we stayed, I was completely blown away. I want you guys to grasp the magnitude of the beauty I saw, which I'm not sure can happen. I'm actually positive that I can't depict it accurately in its entirety. But I'll try to share a glimpse.

The majority of Haitians that attend anything here at NVM have to walk. Depending on where their home is and in which village, it could be miles. Many families are large ones, meaning there's quite a handful of children. They brought them along on foot, in the dark, across thorny, rocky terrain to worship in the presence of the living God late into the early morning light. Some even carried blankets along with so the children could still go to bed, just on the floor of the church instead. And somehow, some way, the children slept -- in the middle of the joyful chaos.

So it's hot here, even at night, but it made no difference to anyone. And when the music is upbeat, it is UP BEAT. Party time. (Also work-out time, up goes the heart rate) It honestly reminded me of a wedding reception because everyone was dancing around -- down the aisles back and forth, children and adults alike grabbing hands and swinging each other around, clapping, smiling, laughing, GROOVING, all with a simultaneous spirit of worship. It was one of the most joyful settings I've ever experienced. I had to join them. We danced away like it was a celebration, or rather, because it was a celebration. Jesus is real, he lives, and he is victorious forever, a truth worth dancing about!

When the music slows down, the passion doesn't dwindle but rather transforms into a different picture. To me, these songs reveal the tenderness, the intimacy of complete dependency on the Lord -- something I think these people might understand better than I do. At one point, two out of the three vocalist worship leaders on stage were kneeling, still singing into their handheld microphones, their long-sleeved button-downs drenched. I looked across the room and saw a young boy, maybe twelve or thirteen sitting along the wall with his hands in the air, eyes tightly shut, singing every word of the song. Moments later, he was also on his knees. A thirteen year old boy. Sitting on one of the long benches I listened and whispered my own prayers as another young woman I'd never met sprawled out close beside me, when I noticed her head gently resting against my hip. I smiled because she had plenty of room to lay there in her own space, but she didn't. It was as if, with the smallest touch, she wanted the comfort of another worshiper as she closed her eyes to regain strength -- just to feel someone with her.

Walking home to call it a night Abby and I whispered to each other about how powerful that was. How, in one way it was a foreign experience and in another, it seemed familiar, as if we knew it. But not cognitively, not in any memory. Rather, within our spirits, within our souls. We knew it. It was a taste of heaven. The place we don't yet understand and yet seem to recognize when we bump into it here on earth. Wild, abandoned, free-as-can-be worship of the King with friends, family, neighbors and strangers alike. This is what we were made for. This is what we were created to do. I went to sleep astonished at how a piece of eternity can exist in such a place of darkness, of poverty, of brokenness. God's kingdom is real, and it's here, and it's making its moves on people.

I am learning...

A posture of surrender, a heart of worship is worth the sometimes grueling, journey it takes to get there.

While the creator of the universe deserves our praise to the point of complete exhaustion, He is gracious and gentle. He invites His children to lay down and rest, sometimes in the center of a beautiful mess, a joyful chaos where His presence is found. He is glorified by both.

God wants everyone. He wants the hearts of teenagers. He knows how to win the stubborn, the naive, the immature and insecure. He is calling them to be leaders, to be lovers of His son, and there is hope for those who may not be listening yet because there are those that are. 

There is beauty found in the company of another heart broken for Jesus, and sometimes we need the reminder, "I'm still here. I'm with you, and beside me is a safe place to rest."