Whew!
(I've had uneasiness since writing that last post, so I better clarify. It WAS based on an actual conversation I had, BUT it got me thinking on more of a broader scope. So, I leave off judging the woman's motives or heart. I don't know her heart at all or anyone else's, not gonna go there. It was poem interpretation of scripture, and a picture of what I actually think scripture says about despising the poor. I think of Lazarus.)
My first gig went.....not so well. I really felt like a fish out of water in the Nigerian Pentecostal church. I have never, in all my days, been to a service like the one I attended. It was incredible. I tend to be a dissector, I'm sorry, I dissect, I just do. On one side it makes me critical (sin), on the other side I gain understanding. So the things I was not familiar with, when they flooded my mind, I had to purpose to take them for what they were, and spend my time worshiping the Lord, even if it was a new way.
So when we danced, Sara moved her white butt, when we sang, Sara tried. When we prayed and the congregation prayed a response to what was said, I bowed my head and God met me there.
Before I went, God had given me a message. I wasn't going to kill time. I was going with a message, in song and testimony. He also told me it wasn't going to be accepted. REally God? The FIRST time?
I'm telling you, the feedback from the speakers was raging, the singers were screaming, shouting, dancing, and the drums were kicking and then the white girl got up there, Joan Baez-ing it with her red guitar. I looked out into a sea of blank stares. "Dear God....."
"Capo....where's the capo?" It had run off with Ezra. "Welp, guess God wants me to sing something else...I blurted out." I gave the beginning part of my testimony and went onto the second, slow, though soulful, song. One man was praying and nodding his head, starring at his shoes. Second song, a tad faster, but slow. "Help..." All the wrong chords were played. I had never screwed up a song so badly in my life. Caroline told me "they didn't notice," but I did.
What did I learn from all that? Keep to the road, stick to the message, forget about the faces (ref. Jeremiah?). Forget about who's watching, "do your job!" What movie is that from?
It wasn't ABSOLUTELY terrible. They didn't throw tomatoes, and the man starring at his feet, came up to me and encouraged me, sincerely. I was extremely grateful.
I left and all the thoughts flooded in "what are you doing?", "who do you think you are?", "you're too old for this crap", "throw in the towel right now". NOPE. I've tried that. I don't have any other lofty ambition other than to serve God. I wish I could chase away the "you're so arrogant" thoughts forever. I feel like Abraham's wife, THAT Sarah, too old to fulfill any kind of procreating agendas, but that is when God shows up. I bet she struggled with those thoughts as well.
I will wait until God shows up. I will sit, stand, MOVE in whatever direction He leads. Rest assured, I will keep singing.
(I've had uneasiness since writing that last post, so I better clarify. It WAS based on an actual conversation I had, BUT it got me thinking on more of a broader scope. So, I leave off judging the woman's motives or heart. I don't know her heart at all or anyone else's, not gonna go there. It was poem interpretation of scripture, and a picture of what I actually think scripture says about despising the poor. I think of Lazarus.)
My first gig went.....not so well. I really felt like a fish out of water in the Nigerian Pentecostal church. I have never, in all my days, been to a service like the one I attended. It was incredible. I tend to be a dissector, I'm sorry, I dissect, I just do. On one side it makes me critical (sin), on the other side I gain understanding. So the things I was not familiar with, when they flooded my mind, I had to purpose to take them for what they were, and spend my time worshiping the Lord, even if it was a new way.
So when we danced, Sara moved her white butt, when we sang, Sara tried. When we prayed and the congregation prayed a response to what was said, I bowed my head and God met me there.
Before I went, God had given me a message. I wasn't going to kill time. I was going with a message, in song and testimony. He also told me it wasn't going to be accepted. REally God? The FIRST time?
I'm telling you, the feedback from the speakers was raging, the singers were screaming, shouting, dancing, and the drums were kicking and then the white girl got up there, Joan Baez-ing it with her red guitar. I looked out into a sea of blank stares. "Dear God....."
"Capo....where's the capo?" It had run off with Ezra. "Welp, guess God wants me to sing something else...I blurted out." I gave the beginning part of my testimony and went onto the second, slow, though soulful, song. One man was praying and nodding his head, starring at his shoes. Second song, a tad faster, but slow. "Help..." All the wrong chords were played. I had never screwed up a song so badly in my life. Caroline told me "they didn't notice," but I did.
What did I learn from all that? Keep to the road, stick to the message, forget about the faces (ref. Jeremiah?). Forget about who's watching, "do your job!" What movie is that from?
It wasn't ABSOLUTELY terrible. They didn't throw tomatoes, and the man starring at his feet, came up to me and encouraged me, sincerely. I was extremely grateful.
I left and all the thoughts flooded in "what are you doing?", "who do you think you are?", "you're too old for this crap", "throw in the towel right now". NOPE. I've tried that. I don't have any other lofty ambition other than to serve God. I wish I could chase away the "you're so arrogant" thoughts forever. I feel like Abraham's wife, THAT Sarah, too old to fulfill any kind of procreating agendas, but that is when God shows up. I bet she struggled with those thoughts as well.
I will wait until God shows up. I will sit, stand, MOVE in whatever direction He leads. Rest assured, I will keep singing.
Comments