Imagine speaking to a million people at once – your thoughts racing, nerves tensing, and blood rushing. Your in a small white room with a microphone, a prayer warrior, an interpreter, and a nationwide audience of Africans waiting for you, the Mzungu, to speak.
What would you say? What would you even begin to think to say? As a foreigner what could you possibly even utter that would be culturally relevant to a nation?
Well, last month in Rwanda I had just that chance. I had the chance to speak to possibly a million Rwandans what God had placed on my heart for that very hour. My pastor for the month, James Gusana from Church of Hope, scheduled me to speak on a nationally broadcasted, christian radio station. We were alloted a 45 minute time slot on a Tuesday morning and allowed to speak on whatever topic we desired.
I still remember finding out that I was even speaking. It was a Monday night when we had an all guys night and the 8 of us guys on the Q squad were hanging out at a restaurant outside of Kigali. It was around 10:30pm when Andrew, my squad leader, handed me his phone and then I hear Laura, my team leader, on the other line say, “Do you know your speaking on the radio tomorrow at 7am?” And I simply respond, “Are you serious?” while thinking to myself, “Holy Crap! I hate mornings! I’m gonna be completely exhausted…Holy Crap! I really hate mornings!”
So what do you do when you find out you have to preach early in the morning on national radio and it's 10:30 at night? You do what I do, and stay out with the boys and enjoy the time together, cause this is the only night you get all month to hangout with one another. But eventually, an hour or so later, Jared and I jet home, and luckily I discover that I don’t have to be at the radio station till 8am. And as my head hits the pillow past midnight I just think, “God you have to be in this, cause on my own I won’t make it."
The following morning comes and I’m up at 6:30, we get out the door at 7:30, and walk up the hill to discover that every bus heading to Kigali, the capital, is completely full. The city is about a 20 minute drive away and we are quickly approaching airtime, and all I can think to myself is, “Everyone and their grandmother are heading to the city, and how on earth am I going to get there?”
So somehow Pastor works his magic and we get a ride from a complete stranger about halfway and then take a taxi the rest of the way through the seemingly impossible gridlock. Then we arrive at the station, run up 6 flights of stairs, and enter the studio at about 8:10, ten minutes past the time we were supposed to get there. We get situated, take our places, and then I’m given 30 minutes to speak to an entire nation about what God has pressed upon my heart.
So I begin to unfold to this audience of nameless and faceless Rwandans about the story of the Prodigal Son from Luke 15. And I describe to them that the word prodigal has 2 very distinct meanings. It can either mean to be wasteful, or it can also mean to be generous. One stems from extravagantly spending upon yourself and the other stems from lavishly giving to others. One is selfish, and the other is selfless.
The story comprises of 3 characters – the Prodigal Son, the Prideful Son, and the Prodigal Father. And when reading the story we usually identify ourselves with one of the sons. Some feel that they are the son who has wasted everything and has spent a life of self-indulgence and vain ambition, only to find themselves eating from pig trough of shame and regret. Others relate more to the son who has done everything for his fathers approval, trying to find worth in his achievements, only to wallow in the fields of jealousy and pride.
However, most people miss the point of the whole story. It is not about a rebellious son or an arrogant son, but about a Loving Father. It is not about a Father who waits at the door with a belt and a loaded gun of verbal ammunition, but it is about a Father who jumps off the porch, runs out to meet us, and embrace us in our mess. He says, "I don't care about your past, I love you, I'm so glad your home. Now let's throw you a party!"
He lavishes us with gifts, throwing upon us a robe of identity, a ring of authority, and sandals of worth. For our worth is not found in what we have done, but in who He is. His compassion and mercy wash away every trace of shame and guilt, pride and jealousy, so that they can never define who we are again. For we are not made in that image, but in the image of the Father. And He does not not call us slaves and servants, but sons and daughters who have a great inheritance.
The entire time during my sermon Samantha, my wonderful and amazing teammate, was praying and interceding for me. I definitely felt nervous in the beginning, but soon found my rhythm and she was definitely a calming presence in the situation. I ended with a closing prayer of blessing upon every listener and that they would find their identity not in their past, but in their Father. And our pastor wrapped up the broadcast and we headed out of the white room with bed sheets as sound proof relieved and ecstatic.
The radio host said he would love to have us back and as we got back in the taxi to head home, the pastor started receiving calls on his cell from people who heard the broadcast. They said they loved the sermon and that it was a powerful and profound message, and all I could think to myself was, "God you were in this!"
