One of my favorite things this year has been experiencing worship in different countries. Sometimes I miss the familiar sounds of songs I know and every once in a while God allows me a little taste of home and I simply revel in those moments.
There is something stirring about hearing a recognizable song being sung in another language. I stood in church singing “How Great is Our God,” in English as the guy next to me sang softly in Cami our last week in Cambodia.
Singing, along with laughing, seems to transcend all language barriers. It’s captivating. Is it wrong to hope there are still different languages in heaven? I mean, I for one, can tell you it would much easier to all speak one language for clarity sake but I can only imagine the power of those words. I imagine being in heaven and praising God with simply words. Mighty words declaring God’s dominion and love.
Imagine hearing praises in Spanish, Hebrew, Greek, Vietnamese, Hungarian, Russian, German, Swahili, French, Italian, Lugandan, Thai, Cami, Romanian, Portuguese, Chinese, English and more. All singing to the one true God, the maker of heaven and earth. It gives me chills.
Yet, I think something else I’ve grown to appreciate even more this year is simplicity. This year more times than not I have worshipped God without the fussiness I’d grown accustomed to. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good worship band and there is power in music. But growing up I can remember always feeling closest to God at summer camp when the music was more my style, loud, and filled with excitement.
However, I have learned so much more about a heart of worship this year. I have grown to rest with Jesus in the simplicity of these moments. Being able to hear His voice in the stillness and even more so in the moments I have no idea what’s going on around me, being that church is rarely in my language. Yet without any distinguishable words being exchanged I’m able to soak in His presence.
We had our last two worship sessions as a squad this week and I realized how normal this all is to me. There was no building, no speakers, no microphones, and no preacher. Just two guitars, 40 willing hearts and a squad mate to share something with us. My back was killing me from sitting awkwardly on the concrete but I sat intermittently weeping and laughing at the feet of Jesus. No one looked at me like I was crazy, instead my teammates just held me.
This year has taught me to worship Jesus without inhabitation. With that has come freedom. Freedom to dance like a fool, to sit and journal, to lay on the ground just soaking in his presence, to laugh and cry in the same breath because of His goodness.
I can’t help but wonder how that’s going to change when I step back into a normal church two Sunday’s from now. But God has called me to a life of worship and I want to learn to live every day of my life this way.
