The sun was beating hot on our heads, but no one seemed to notice since the wind kept us cool that morning. We loaded around thirty men and women into the flatbed of a truck, prepared for a weekend in another village, which had recently experienced some devastating changes. Among the travelers were about ten missionaries and twenty Mozambican men and women. We squished together at the edges of the flatbed, looking for a backrest. Many women sat on top of our tents and sound equipment in stadium seating fashion.
Prior to our departure we prayed and sang together, as is regular Mozambican practice among 
Christians. We then tumbled in together for the four-hour ride to Buzi. The road was made of that beautiful African red clay and our air conditioning the mostly sweet African air. To my great enjoyment the Mozambican men and women with us decided it was time for a song… the entire way. They danced in place and sang loudly in for part harmony as we clapped along jovially. I simply smiled to myself and reflected, “This is what I’ve been waiting for.” It seems so simple, but the greatest things in life tend to be just that: simple.
We arrived in Buzi and the singing echoed through the streets loudly, crying out in Scena, “Come and hear about Jesus!” We arrived to this village church, being greeted by loud yells and joyous singing to accompany ours. We disembarked and the time began for the outreach.
We split into two groups: men and women. We sat in different clusters as the pastor’s wife cooked us sheema and beans over an open fire. We greeted each person, as is the custom, and rested on the grass thatch mats.
We were later welcomed in to the pastor’s home and given a bowl to rinse our hands in for the meal. We sat in a dark room made impressively of mud walls and a grass roof. Eating with our hands, many enjoyed their first taste of sheema, which tastes vaguely like plain Cream of Wheat that has been condensed and cooled. It is the main food supplement in Mozambique (along with most of Sub-Saharan Africa) and is made solely from flour, water and hours of churning.
After we set up our tents we waited for the evening to begin. Loud music blared from the speakers and lines formed for dancing. Once the dancing started, it did not finish until much past midnight. There were a few breaks for testimonies and teachings, but in all they must have danced for at least six hours.
I was utterly amazed at the enthusiasm and stamina of these men, women and children. It seemed they would dance forever. I thought about our churches at home and wondered if we’d ever dance. Granted, I know a lot of this is wrapped up in cultural differences, but what if we could transcend our own culture, embarrassment or pride? What would we really look like if we worshiped God the way He made us to?
I think some would still be of a quiet heart and demeanor and some who dance now might be stilled but the awe of our Savior. Some would fall at His feet; others stand in surrender to Him. And I think some would dance. Some might surprise themselves at the movements of their feet. We would dance in the freedom and joy of knowing we are wholly loved and wholly accepted. We would 
dance in response to the greatness of our Maker, and perhaps we would dance as these Africans did, without end in sight… or in mind.
The thing that really amazes me is that we are the only thing stopping us from this experience today. Our embarrassment, our pride, our self-image. We feel the need to preserve something that people outwardly see and all the while allow the passion, joy and excitement inside to die. What a great tragedy we all face every day based on the eyes of the mortal in exchange for the joy of dancing freely befo
re our Father. I am absolutely included in this calamity and can only hope and pray for the courage to allow my body to respond to the God who is always extending His hand for a dance.
The next morning brought more dancing, singing and a six hour service where we heard multiple times the phrase, “Now I will sit down in the name of Jesus,” which in all honesty, made me chuckle quietly to myself every time.
