This is the Africa I envisioned, the Africa that stole my heart. A place where the church can be made up of two walls of faded wood and blue painted tin that rise from the dusty ground with bright orange and white fabric to brighten the scene while a breeze blows throughout the trees and jackfruit hangs above us with the scent of rain hinting at a strom. An Africa where the morning consists of dancing and singing amongst plastic chairs and painted wooden benches as the God of Gods speaks directly to my heart. A land where I can hear birds chirpping and laughter in the distance somewhere and look up to see the beautiful children of my Abba Father running barefoot through this red dirt with a kite made of trash flying behind them. Where red roofs and brick walls can’t hold my gaze against the wide open sky of a continent that has seen so much. A place that carries beauty and peace and joy in such a way that you can’t help but catch it.
This is the Africa I will miss.
Daddy has a wonderful way of redeeming everything because that is who He is; He is a God of redemption. As I left my last ministry site two days ago there was a sadness inside of me when I thought about how I would end my time here, how this place that I have just completely and utterly fallen in love with lost the luster of that puppy love we so eagerly welcome. My heart broke at the realization that in all honesty, I just wanted to leave this place on a fast plane.
So as we walked through new streets full of mud puddles and faces watching us with the oh so common intent gaze of locals while we were on our way to a different church with a new congregation that we have never met I did not hold that excitement that I usually contain. Although peace rested inside of me, the ridiculous amount of joy that I usually carry at the thought of dancing and worshipping in this country was nowhere to be held.
Naturally, Papa thought He would remind me.
As we awkwardly and hesitantly headed to the front of the church with our fellow brothers and sisters to sing a song (or three) over the congregation that I had never spoken to, I could already feel the joy that was radiating from the people sitting in front of us. That joy that Papa continually washes over us came down in such a waterfall that I couldn’t help but giggle with the thought that this is what I was made for. While we started our third song with a keyboard in the background and a surprisingly on beat prerecording, our fists pumping in the air and feet moving to kick up the dust, a tad darker sister wrapped my arm in a dosey-doe and reminded me why a bit of my heart will always remain here.
“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” – 2 Corinthians 4:8
That about sums up my month and while I sang out “yes Lord, yes Lord, yes yes Lord” with the brothers and sisters who have stuck with me through it all I knew that my sorrows were indeed traded in for a much needed abundance of happiness and joy and redemption, that my beautiful King was indeed singing over me and with me and straight to my heart. And as I sit here in a small cafe with wifi tucked in a two-story mall drinking a strawberry smoothie, I have a feeling that every little thing is going to be alright.
