After returning from Biella, I chatted on Facebook with my dear friend, Angelica. Suki and I visited Angelica at her home last year after Tony Anthony’s visit to nearby Modena (which I wrote about in last year’s post Encouragement from Above). From that visit was born a very deep and dear friendship. Angelica is one of those people who God has put into my life to encourage me, so visiting her was one of my priorities upon returning to Italy.
Angelica is Albanian by birth, so I wanted to tell her the exciting news about going to Tirana to pray for Albania with Operation Capitals of Europe, about Bogdan (her countryman) going with us, and especially about taking Albanian worship to the Feast of Tabernacles in Poland in October (all of which I wrote about in my last post Surprises).
Here’s our Facebook chat, after we set up a day & time for me to visit:
Angelica: can you stay here till sunday afternoon ?
only, if you can
Me: No, I can only stay for the day.
Angelica: ah ok
Me: But we can plan for a longer visit sometime
Angelica: would be great !
Me: I have something exciting to tell you!
Angelica: wow ! I can’t wait.
Me: But I want to tell you in person.
Angelica: good
Me: See you tomorrow!
Angelica: I have something good for you too…
you will like it a lot
Me: We will both have to wait
Angelica: hehehe yeah
I was so excited about telling Angelica my news that her surprise for me was almost completely eclipsed. I must admit, this is also what I do with any surprise. I am like a little kid when it comes to surprises and gifts, I get very excited and can’t think about anything else (if you notice, I’m also that way about the coming Rapture!). So what I do to enable myself to function is that I deliberately make myself forget that there is a surprise coming. This time it was so effective that I literally had forgotten all about it until after the lovely meal Angelica had prepared for me. First, I told her my surprise, about going to Albania and taking Albanian worship to the Feast of Tabernacles in October. Then she told me her surprise for me: she has talked to her pastor about having me speak at the Women’s Retreat in June. The pastor countered with an invitation that I speak briefly this coming Wednesday at the Women’s Tea.
This is a fabulous opportunity to encourage a local body of believers. I have never been invited to speak to any church or church group in Italy (or anywhere in Europe) before, not even my own home church in Milan. Of course, I said that I would do it.
After I returned home, Angelica wrote to me that her pastor said she had already gotten a speaker for the Women’s Retreat. The disappointment that she felt was obvious. However, a lot can happen between now and June. I have already prayed that if God wants me to speak at the retreat that He will open the door for me. I feel peace about it. After all, it’s out of my hands now. If God wants me to speak there, then nobody can stop me. Still, I am invited to speak on Wednesday evening at the Women’s Tea. So I have been praying for the guidance of the Holy Spirit about what to speak about. I have an idea what He wants me to talk about, but I always leave room for the Holy Spirit to flow and say whatever He will through me.
It’s possible that the pastor doesn’t really have someone else, and is just putting Angelica off to take the pressure off until she’s heard me speak. But whatever the case may be, I feel at peace about it because I have put the whole matter into God’s hands. I just want to be His instrument to bring healing, hope, and encouragement to these women, whether it’s only on Wednesday or also in June. God is good!
Tag Archives: Italian
Surprises
I have just gotten back home to Italy almost two weeks ago. After a four month absence, I had several things that had to be taken care of immediately. Once those things were taken care of, I could do my favorite thing: visiting the people who are important to me. These are dear friends who pray for me daily. I do the same when I’m in the US, but sometimes I have to be content with a phone call, mailing a card, or sending e-mail because of the vast distances involved—I have praying friends in the US on both coasts and from north to south, so going to visit is not always an option.
My first visit was to my favorite church in the whole world: the church of Biella. Biella is a small city north of Turin, and this church has the friendliest people of any church anywhere. They actually argue over whose turn it is to host me. The pastor is a good friend of many years, and his preaching is so full of the Holy Spirit anointing that nobody could ever complain that going to church is boring.
Last year the church bought a bar. What they call a bar in Italy is as much a coffee shop and sandwich joint as it is a bar, and more than that, it functions as a meeting place where often you can also enjoy live music. So when friends decide to get together for a coffee, they will go to their local bar. The church’s bar is far more than a typical Italian bar because in addition to indoor and outdoor coffee shop space, it has two big rooms with tables for eating (with a foosball table for the kids in the room farthest back), a good-sized courtyard and beyond that, a large gravel bocce court.
When I told Felicity about going to Biella (she and the core of Biella’s worship group came with me in September to bring Italian worship to the Feast of Tabernacles in Kalisz, Poland), she wanted to come, too. I admit, I told Felicity, hoping that she would come with me. I travel alone most of the time, and I’m fine traveling alone. But having the company of a dear friend is so much better. So Felicity brought her guitar, and it turns out that God had an assignment for us at the church’s bar.
But first there was a divine appointment on the train. The train to Biella can go either to Novara and change or to Santhia and change. Either way takes about the same amount of time. I usually go by way of Santhia because it costs something like twenty cents less, and I used to be a coupon-clipping housewife, so twenty cents saved is something I appreciate. When I bought the train tickets, I had on my walking glasses and not my reading glasses, so I didn’t notice that the tickets said via Novara. The conductor pointed it out as he checked our tickets just past Novara, so we were already committed to going by way of Santhia. If I had noticed, I would have made sure that we changed trains in Novara, but I hadn’t. But that turned out to be not so much because of the wrong glasses as it was a divine appointment on the train from Santhia to Biella. I had seen a woman get on the train and ask in Italian if it was the train to Biella. She sat by herself near where Felicity and I sat. We were speaking English, and as an American, her ears perked up. When she heard Felicity say something about music, she couldn’t keep to herself anymore. It turns out that she is a singer/songwriter and she’s touring, playing in bars all around Italy. We spoke to her about our faith and she was so touched that she gave Felicity a couple of CD’s.
We arrived in Biella around lunch time, but everyone who usually picks me up from the train station was busy, so Pastor Fabio sent Silvestro to pick us up. I had never met Silvestro before, and he had only enough time to take us from the train station to the church’s bar, then he had to go because his son was getting married in a couple of days. It wasn’t until I talked to Giuseppe (the bass player and leader of the worship team) that I put it all together: Giuseppe told me that his daughter is getting married in a couple of days . . . to Marco, who I then realized must be Silvestro’s son.
Anyway, Silvestro dropped us off at the bar and went to finish the wedding preparations. Pastor Fabio had told me that he wouldn’t be able to come pick us up from the bar until around 4 that afternoon. So Felicity and I enjoyed a nice piadina (sandwich wrap) in the sunny courtyard. Just as we were finishing lunch a man came into the bar who was very clearly drunk. He ordered a beer and sat near us, scrutinizing us because he had never seen us before. When he heard us speaking English with each other, he began interrupting. I don’t normally mind someone interrupting a conversation like that—in fact, it’s often a divine appointment, as with the woman on the train. But his interruptions became increasingly disruptive and we even noticed a hostile undertone to them.
Felicity looked at me and said, “I think we need to do some spiritual battle.” So she pulled out her guitar and started to sing praise songs. I immediately felt like I should be dancing, but aware of how weird my holy dancing looks, I hesitated. But then I got up and danced, and I felt the flow of the Holy Spirit as I danced and Felicity played. I sang along with her, sometimes in counterpoint, sometimes in harmony. The drunk tried several times to stop our worship, but seeing that we were not going to stop, he gave up. He went inside and came back out with another beverage: water! He made a few feeble efforts at stopping the worship, but his heart wasn’t in it.
Please understand something: the decision to do spiritual battle was not against the man.
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12
We recognized the spiritual forces at work in his drunken combativeness. As we worshiped, he settled down—an outward sign of the enemy retreat. At that, Felicity began singing in Italian so that the man could understand that we were singing about Jesus. Because silencing the enemy was not the entire point, sharing the love of Jesus was! But we couldn’t do that until we had the enemy silenced.
Giuseppe told me that he is taking the whole Biella worship team to Poland in October for this year’s Feast of Tabernacles. He didn’t invite me, and I didn’t expect him to. I felt like I was the midwife who helped this baby be born, but now that it was walking, the baby didn’t need me anymore.
Upon our return to Milan, Felicity told me that I should tell Bogdan about my upcoming trip to Albania. Bogdan is Albanian and he is very committed to praying for his country. She also said that he would probably be interested in going to the Feast of Tabernacles as Albanian worship. So she set up a meeting with Bogdan for the next day, and I told him first about going to Tirana to pray for the capital, and then I told him about Tabernacles, and how there was no Albanian worship there. He was very excited about both prospects, checked his calendar, and found that both time periods were open. So it looks like I will be midwife now to Albanian worship at the Feast of Tabernacles. God is good!
Speaking at Church, Part Two
In praying before any speaking engagement, I always ask the Holy Spirit to come and speak through me—though the actual words are more like: “God, if You don’t show up, I’m screwed!” And I pray like that until I feel that release that says that Heaven has heard, and God has responded.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t make my physical symptoms (dry mouth, shaking hands, etc.) go away. But I carry on nevertheless, and that’s what I did at church last night.
There was a really good turnout—about 30-35 people. I had a PowerPoint all ready to show them, but no way to connect my computer (with its HMDI port) to the TV screen (with its S-video port). Oh, well! Rather than worry about that, I just forged ahead, and they all listened intently, even without the visuals. I only knew one person in the room. That means that the church has continued to grow in my absence. God has always put me into growing churches, so I love that.
Since I didn’t know them, I could easily assume that they didn’t know much, if anything, about me. So I started with how I had come to this church and ended up in Italy and my call to ministry (recounted in most of my books, but in greatest detail in Graceful Flight). My story reveals that I am not a super saint, but just an average person. This was important for them to know because people tend to think of missionaries as perfect people who have their lives together. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I know some missionaries with defects far worse than I’ve seen in the churches in the US.
I don’t remember what all I talked to them about, but at one point I was led by the Holy Spirit to speak about Catholics. Someone always asks about why there are missionaries in Italy, since it is a Catholic country. Italy is a Catholic country, and the vast majority of Italians identify themselves as Catholic. But many of them only go to church for weddings or funerals. And there is a vast difference between faithful (faith-filled) Catholicism and the superstitious practices of pseudo-Catholicism that are very common in Italy: kissing the picture of a saint instead of praying; crossing themselves whenever they pass the door of a church, but never entering in; hanging a rosary on the rear-view mirror as a kind of “insurance” against accidents. They live like the rest of the world, cheating on their taxes, having affairs, stealing from business partners, etc. But because they have been baptized (as infants), and they do these superstitious practices, they think that that they are good with God. In reality, they have no relationship with Him at all.
The Charismatic movement among Catholics has been around in the US for decades, but it is only just beginning in Italy. I told them about how God has used my Catholic friend, Gessica, to show me true faith among Italian Catholics. The truth is that we don’t need to “convert” Catholics. What we need to do is to help them discover true faith. And when you do that, some will come out of the Catholic Church, wanting to explore faith that has none of the old rituals; while others remain in the Catholic Church, enjoying a fresh understanding of the meaning behind the familiar rituals, and sharing that with other Catholics. Several of the people there have Catholic family members, and this gave them hope for their families.
The response to my talk was overwhelmingly positive. Because I had shared about Kalisz, Poland, and taking Italian worship to the Feast of Tabernacles for the first time, someone asked me what Italian worship sounds like. Here’s where my nerves betrayed me: I went completely blank. They named some songs that I know in Italian, but I simply could not remember the words. Oh, well! If every talk went perfectly, I might be able to claim some of the glory for myself. But as it was, God got all the glory because in my weakness (and nervousness) He revealed His great power to teach and reveal the important things about missions in Europe. God is good!
Worship in the Afternoon and Forgiveness in the Morning
Our afternoon worship session (4-6 PM) was the best attended, besides prime time. Felicity was in the zone, having really gotten in touch with her vocalization and riffing. But of course, it’s not about the music as much as it is about the heart. Her heart was clearly worshiping God, and that is what bumped her vocal style to the next level (perhaps even a few levels).
Bethany has shown a real talent for the flags. She is able to make them dance in some really beautiful ways. I love the flags, but I’m not at all good at it, and I’ve never waved them without the stick hitting something. I figured that I should probably stop now before I put someone’s eye out.
After the session, I was feeling very tired, and wanted nothing more than to return to the hotel and sleep—yes, this was at six in the evening. We have done late night, early morning, wee hours, and so forth, so that now I just need to go rest when my body says so, no matter what the hour. So I went to the cloak room to put on my jacket. The others were behind me and they were invited to share Communion with a couple of German men. I saw Felicity go to her knees, and I knew that this could be a while, so I walked back to the hotel alone.
The following day, we were upstairs in the church’s coffee shop. Felicity told me that she needed to talk with me. So we went into the prayer room, which was empty for the first time (no babies, no nursing mothers, no small children). There she told me about the German men inviting them to share Communion. She said that she immediately realized that she needed to repent. She confessed that she had been holding anger and unforgiveness in her heart because of Europe’s involvement with the African slave trade (Felicity is African-American). She poured out her heart about how much she hates when people want to touch her hair or ask her what African country she comes from—she doesn’t know because her ancestors were kidnapped and taken to America as slaves.
We wept together for both her pain and for the loss of her heritage and culture. Felicity knows that these are innocent things not intended to wound her, but she can’t deny the pain they cause her. Before she took Communion, she knelt to forgive the Europeans, and to ask God to forgive her.
In the next teaching session, when we were invited to share our experiences at Tabernacles, Felicity asked me if she should share her pain and to ask forgiveness. I told her that if that’s what she wants to do, she should do it. So she did. And several people told her that they forgive her. But some people have since acted differently around her, avoiding her, particularly the German girls because it had involved their friends.
At the end of the teaching session, they called forward all the young people (those 30 and under), and we prayed for them. I came and prayed specifically for Felicity. The Holy Spirit urged me to also repent and ask her forgiveness for my ancestors’ part in the slave trade because my people, though not rich landowners, had some slaves nevertheless. I had never felt personally responsible for the slave trade because it was all over and done with long before I was born, and I have always treated Felicity with the same kindness and respect that I treat all my friends. But sins curse lasts to the 4th generation, and it was right for me to repent and confess the sin so that its curse could be completely broken. Felicity forgave without hesitation, and we wept in each other’s arms. It was a very cleansing moment for me. Later she told me that nobody had ever asked forgiveness for the slave trade before. It was very hard, but I am really glad that I did it. It was the right thing to do.
Our last session was 6-8 AM. I woke up half an hour before the alarm, and began to pray. One person God led me to pray for particularly was Felicity. Then God gave me a word for her: Isaiah 41:10:
Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous Right Hand.
And the Lord’s word to Felicity went something like this (I don’t remember it exactly):
I have felt every blow and every insult, whether intentional or not. I know your pain, but I will take the pain away. It is no accident that you are here. You are here for your healing. Receive your healing. You are My beloved daughter. You are loved. You have value.
This prophecy came to me in the form of a song, and the Lord told me to sing this to Felicity—on the platform in the church. I realized that this could be a very emotional moment for her, and I felt like it would be best if she knew that it was coming, rather than surprising her. So we walked together to church while the others were still gathering themselves. I told her about the word, without telling her what it is, and asked her when she wanted it: early in the session (when there are likely to be fewer people) or later in the session (when she won’t have to struggle with emotions and tears while trying to sing). She told me she wanted it early, and asked me why I had to sing it. I told her about how God had healed me to sing (see Dancing in My Dreams). She said, “Oh, I get it! Killing two birds with one song!” Yeah, that’s exactly it!
So, the sanctuary wasn’t completely empty, but we warned the others about what was going to happen, and we proceeded. Being first thing in the morning, and early morning at that, my voice was terrible. But I sang anyway. Felicity cried, but not a whole lot, and was able to go on with worship without any problems. It was a nice worship session, nothing spectacular, but full of the right heart for God. God is good!
Worshiping in Prime Time
We gathered for prayer half an hour before our prime time worship: 8-10 PM, but had some trouble finding a place to pray in peace. The church’s prayer rooms had been taken over by nursing mothers with their babies and small children. They needed a quiet corner, too. I understand. So we went to the sanctuary to look for a quiet place there. But being prime time, there were people all over the place, in every little corner, even in the coat room.
Then Giuseppe suggested the music storage room. It’s small and crowded with instruments, but it’s just big enough and quiet enough to do the trick. So we crammed in there and prayed together that our worship would truly glorify God, and that we ourselves would stay humble and submitted to Him. Amen. And we got briefly drunk in the Holy Spirit, laughing like idiots.
Then Giuseppe looked around. There’s a problem. Where is the bass guitar? It wasn’t there! Then we discovered that the electric guitar was also missing. We did eventually manage to find a bass guitar, and just did without the electric guitar.
Giuseppe, as musical director, had Daniele take the acoustic guitar, and Felicity concentrate on singing. Her voice is very sweet, but sometimes it’s a bit tentative and often hard to hear. Perhaps it was because she didn’t have a guitar in her hands that her voice was stronger, and being stronger, it was lovely and lost none of its sweetness.
As worship leader, Felicity made no song list this time, deciding just to wing it and see what songs the Holy Spirit leads us to do. This led to long pauses between songs, and songs that repeated and repeated and repeated. I don’t know how the musicians felt, but it was sort of driving me crazy. It had the same effect on Bethany, who tried suggesting songs when we seemed to be stuck for a direction. But when a direction was found, it was wonderful.
During one of the livelier songs, I pulled out a couple of whistles and handed one to a boy that was dancing near us, while I blew the other. He was hesitant at first, but then blew the whistle with great gusto. A big fellow seated in the front, right in front of me, got up during a lively song and started to dance just like Dancing Bear on Captain Kangaroo (for those old enough to remember). Then he grabbed a tambourine and started keeping time with the music. Several young girls picked up flags and started dancing and waving flags. I love it when we share a moment like that. It was such fun!
There was a definite anointing, which everybody felt. That made the two hours fly by before we even knew it. When the next group came in and started to set up, I felt such deep disappointment at having to stop that I didn’t even want to go back to the hotel to sleep. The big fellow hugged me and thanked me for the worship session. All thanks and glory and praise goes to God! God is good!
In the Zone!
God made an amazing connection for Giuseppe, our bass player and musical director, here in Kalisz. Giuseppe had long dreamed of playing worship music outside of Italy, but life sort of got in the way, and many years passed. “The dream remained closed up in a drawer,” is how he described it to me.
When I invited Giuseppe to the Feast of Tabernacles, I knew nothing of his dream. All I knew was that when I prayed about a worship team, I saw him and his son, Roberto, our drummer. It was an open door for Giuseppe’s dream, and he went for it without a moment’s hesitation.
Our first day here, the leader of Team Israel connected with Giuseppe. In fact, they were talking without interpretation, and made an agreement that Team Italy would join Team Israel (which you can read about in Worship All Night (Well, Almost!) ). It was a great connection, and little did we know that it was only the beginning.
Adam, leader of Team Israel, wanted to invite Giuseppe to go with him to other places to play music together. But for this conversation, they needed interpretation. So we got together over an after worship beer. I was translating for them, and baby, I was in the translation zone.
Translation has always been a difficult thing for me because in order to speak Italian, I need to be completely in my Italian brain. It was always the switching brains that gave me trouble. But this time it just flowed, and I was translating as fast as Adam was speaking, without him having to pause for me, and also going the other way, translating for Giuseppe. We went on like this for about 30 – 40 minutes, then suddenly the lack of sleep and the beer caught up with me and it was like hitting a wall: STOP!
Look at that goofy grin! The beer hadn’t even arrived yet!
Happily, at just that moment, Bethany sat down to join us. So she took over the translation and they were able to finish their conversation. I excused myself and went to bed.
The funny thing is that I remember absolutely nothing about the conversation, itself. But God used me to connect these two godly men and to help them discuss their plans. Perhaps in the days ahead Giuseppe will tell me what they plan to do. I was just the tool God used, but I can tell you, that even a humble tool in His hands is powerfully blessed. God is good!
Worshiping in Dance
I brought my dance slippers with the intention of dancing in worship here at the Feast of Tabernacles. And I did. I also brought a thin scarf that is made exactly like an Italian flag to dance with. And I did. I danced and danced. And it was awkward and terrible and felt so forced.
God was silent, but I think He was probably looking at me, saying, “What on earth are you doing? This isn’t you!” And it wasn’t me. I had been trying to dance like others that I’ve seen.
So when I got back up on the platform and started singing and especially in those moments between songs when we were truly free to riff, I was back in the zone because the worship was coming from my heart. There on the platform, with my feet firmly planted behind the microphone, I began to dance as my heart felt led. And it was awkward and terrible, but at the same time it was wonderful because it was me, and I could feel God smiling. My dance style is sort of reminiscent of Joe Cocker’s, but with a genuine anointing of the Holy Spirit (for those too young to remember, check the link).
I discovered that there is live video feed from the sanctuary to the church’s large coffee shop this year. Last year it was live, too, but only audio. So far Team Italy’s worship sessions have been during the hours when the coffee shop is closed. But tonight we will have 8-10 PM, while the coffee shop is open. Last year singing and dancing on a video feed (and possible even being taped) would have really terrified me. But I have discovered the freedom in the power of the Holy Spirit. When I’m connected to God and focused only on Him, I don’t know or care how I sound or what I look like. I am free to be a complete fool for Him, worshiping Him in my own crazy style.
Felicity noted the freedom that I had felt, saying, “I really like your spaz dance style.” I smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m in touch with my inner spaz and it feels good.” The reason it feels good is because of the Holy Spirit’s anointing. So even if lots of people hear me sing and watch me dance, I am really only singing and dancing for an audience of One. God is good!
Worship All Night (Well, Almost!)
This year the Feast of Tabernacles in Kalisz has more worship teams than ever before from all over Europe, and this year even one representing Israel. And that’s what had us up worshiping almost all night. The leader of the Israel worship team arrived a couple of days ahead of his team, and he asked Team Italy to play backup for him. The musicians all said yes immediately. Bethany was desperately tired, and I wasn’t convinced that I would be either wanted or needed, and so thought a good night’s sleep would do me some good.
Remember, yesterday, we did the worship from 2-4 AM. Team Israel’s time was 10-12 PM, and our next session was 4-6 AM. So Bethany was probably wise to get some sleep while she could.
I don’t remember what it was that changed my mind. I think I just got excited about the idea of backing up Hebrew worship songs. I think there was also the feeling that I should be with the team if at all possible. It turned out to be a great choice. The music was amazing and very anointed, the sanctuary was packed out, and best of all, God showed up. I don’t know how, but two hours went blazing by in what seemed like 20 minutes at the most.
Then we went back to the hotel, slept for about three hours, and went back to do our early morning session. Yesterday’s early session was only Team Italy. This morning there were a few other people in the sanctuary, most of whom joined into the spirit of worship. I say most because there were two girls who sat on the sofa (situated in front of the platform where the drums are, and right by the table where the Communion bread and wine were set out for us to partake of before our worship sessions). For our entire set, these two girls talked and giggled, even though the church gave strict instructions several times that the sanctuary is not a place to talk. It was very distracting for me and for Bethany, since we were angled to face toward the couch, and couldn’t look toward the other teammates without catching sight of the girls.
I had a shaker egg in my hand, and was tempted to throw it at them. Then I remembered what the Holy Spirit told me about rude people: it is not my job to teach them manners I’m just supposed to love them. So then I prayed that they would get up and go someplace else. They didn’t. And when I complained to God, He said, “They are not the problem, you are! You need to focus on seeking Me, and you should be able to focus on Me no matter where you are or who is around.”
So it wasn’t a fun lesson or an especially fun session—the techie didn’t do a very good job of hooking us up, so we couldn’t hear each other, and the music suffered (yes, the musicians all got borrowed instruments–God provides!). But it was an important step in personal spiritual growth, and that’s what counts. God is good!
Worship in the Wee Hours
Team Italy’s first worship session was 2-4 AM on the first night of the Feast of Tabernacles. Here is our team:
Giuseppe – Bass player and musical director of the worship team
Roberto – Drummer and Giuseppe’s very talented son
Daniele – Electric guitar player
Felicity – Acoustic guitar player and worship leader
Bethany – Chorus and intercessor
Me – Chorus and intercessor (and possible dancer), also team leader in things non-musical
Upon our arrival, one of the German teams was playing. Not being a musician, I didn’t notice anything wrong until our bass player came to me and pointed out that there were no guitars, and three members of our team play guitar: electric, acoustic, and bass. What to do?
I sent the drummer up as our first musician to take over while we figure the rest of it out. He went up on the platform and behind the drum partition. The German drummer refused to let him slide in and take over. It was a surreal moment. Meanwhile the rest of the team began pacing in various parts of the room, while the German team played some soft background music, just right for making the changeover.
Just then the techie arrived. He told me that they don’t have any instruments to loan, which is not what I had been told. He made a call, and found us an acoustic guitar, which we put into Daniele’s hands. Giuseppe, clearly unhappy at first about not having an instrument to play, began to pray and worship from below the platform. Soon his worship became truly joyful.
So with drums and guitar, we made music for the Lord. Believe it or not, it was really nice, too! We (the three females) did a lot of riffing, which turned out really nicely. There were a couple of songs that Felicity launched into that were either not in the songbook or were too unfamiliar to me. At those times, I stepped from the platform, grabbed an Italian flag, and started dancing. By that time only team Italy was in the sanctuary, so that gave me a great deal of freedom.
Giuseppe stepped onto the platform and using Bethany’s microphone (the closest one at hand), prophesied that he now had a bigger vision than Italy, and that all this—even not having all our instruments—was a part of God’s plan.
At one point, Felicity had been riffing for a while in a very mellow mood, and I thought it might be too mellow for the hour. So I stepped back up onto the platform, riffing the title of a lively song that she had planned for our first session, but perhaps had forgotten about. She gave me a big grin, and launched right into it, which gave Roberto something to really sink his drumsticks into.
Before I knew it our replacements were in the room, dancing joyfully to our music and preparing to take the platform. I don’t know how two hours passed so quickly.
On the way out of the church building, Giuseppe told me, “We need to get instruments somehow.” Yes, somehow, we do need to get instruments. But thank You, Lord, for this first session and what it taught each of us about the heart of worship. The heart really is more important than the music, and we had plenty of heart. God is good!
A Dream Come True!
Greetings from Kalisz, Poland!
Today I arrived with five others from Italy, and tonight I will see my two year dream come true. The past two years I have been coming to the Feast of Tabernacles (Sukkot) here in Kalisz. The church here has 24 hour non-stop worship over the seven days of the feast. In two-hour time slots throughout the day and night, they have worship led by groups from all over Europe: two hours in Polish, then two in English, then German, then French, then Russian, etc. For two years, I have dreamed of bringing a worship team from Italy, and tonight they (we!) will bring worship for the first time in Italian. Yes, I’m still somewhat shocked that I will be part of the worship team. I’ll be singing as part of the chorus, and reading from the Bible in Italian. I will probably also dance.
The feast will begin in about an hour and a half, with the host church’s worship team. I am so excited! I’m not only excited about having Italian worship here at last, but I also know from experience that God shows up for His feast—that’s right, in the Bible, God tells Moses how to celebrate His Feast of Tabernacles (Leviticus 23:34), and it is a lasting ordinance (verse 41). But of course, we don’t celebrate because we have to. We celebrate because we love God and we love to worship Him. And with the right attitude, God shows up.
So, excuse me if this is short, but I’ve got to rest up because our session begins at 2 AM. God is good!
Walking By Faith in Europe 