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!

Dancing in the Church

There was a gathering at the Prayer Center Wednesday with lots of children in attendance.  I don’t know if it was planned this way, but it became a children’s celebration.  Herbie played children’s praise songs, all of us danced to the songs and played the musical (mostly percussion) instruments available.  Then the children made pictures of what it feels like to know that Jesus loves me (inspired by the song of the same name!).

The best part for me was when the children came around and prayed for us.  There was dinner brought in by the wonderful people who have committed to cooking for us, and it was a very fun evening.

Then I stayed to do another overnight shift in the Prayer Center.  I don’t know why, but the second time was harder than the first.  Several times I found myself struggling to find God’s presence (even though He’s always there!).  It was again only 3 of us, but this time without Herbie.

Although it was a more difficult night for prayer, it was a wonderful night for interpersonal relationships between the 3 of us.  There was Mi Kyong from Korea, who lives as an underground missionary in the 10/40 window.  I only personally know a few underground missionaries, but I have big, big respect for them and their courage.  Interestingly, Mi Kyong told me that in Korea, the churches treat missions as a call to suffering.  She said this while we were laughing and dancing with the children.  Mi Kyong loves children and when there is a child present, all her attention goes to the child—even if she was in the middle of a conversation.

The 3^rd member of our trio for the night was Zeppi, a quiet little Maltese man with a speech impediment and a big heart.  I found out that Zeppi is short for Guzeppi, a Maltesination of the Italian name Giuseppe (Joseph).  When he was introduced to me, he shyly pulled out a sheet of paper, filled with single-spaced type on both sides.  It was his testimony of how he came to know Jesus, and it ended with his contact information and an invitation to get together over a cup of coffee.  Zeppi didn’t want either his shyness or his speech impediment to stop him from sharing Jesus.

While Mi Kyong and I worshiped and danced and prayed aloud, Zeppi sat and quietly prayed.  But when 2AM came, and we discussed going on a prayer walk, Zeppi became enthusiastic.  He loves Malta almost as much as he loves Jesus.  He took us pretty much on the same route that I had gone the first night.  But it was as much a guided tour as it was a prayer walk.  Zeppi showed us the pixkerija, which is pronounced a lot like the word pescheria, so when Mi Kyong said, “What?”  I told her it was the fish market.  Zeppi smiled, saying, “Yes, fish market!”  We looked into the fish market, but although there were fishermen, they were too busy or too uninterested to engage us in conversation beyond a simple hello.

My comment about the language similarity with Italian led Mi Kyong to comment that the Maltese words for hello and milk sound very much like Arabic.  Zeppi was almost leaping for joy, “Yes! Yes! Like Arabic!”  I was very surprised that Arabic had gotten a strong enough foothold on Malta to influence the language this way.  There is a multimedia show called The Malta Experience that I should probably go see while I’m here.  I have been told that of all the museums and historical/cultural shows, this is the best one.

We walked past a sign that said bocci club.  I stopped and commented that they play bocce (Italian spelling, pronounced BAH-chee) in Italy, and many Italian Americans play bocce.  I wondered aloud if bocce was Italian (as I had thought) or Maltese.  Zeppi said, “Maltese!  Maltese!”  I asked him if he plays bocce, but he said no.  It doesn’t surprise me because bocce is a very social game, involving gambling and probably drinking.  Most men who play it are very gregarious—just the opposite of Zeppi.

We prayed, walking through the center of Parliament Square, claiming it for the dance team.  This was the second time that I had done this, so I believe that if they want to do it, the dancers could dance in the square next time.

Then we walked back to the Prayer Center.  It was 4AM, and the rest of the night dragged on endlessly.  Mi Kyong curled up on a pillow, while Zeppi went to the kitchen to heat up another plate of pasta.  I put on some worship music, grabbed a set of little ceramic drums, and tried to keep time, but the beat kept slipping away.  At one point I dozed off and the drumstick slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor.  I jumped awake, thinking that I had dropped and broken the drums, but my left hand still held them tightly—which is surely a miracle.  I carefully set the drums on the floor and got up to pace instead.  But I was so physically wiped out that I considered grabbing a pillow and following Mi Kyong’s example.  I went to the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea, but cut it with cold water because even with the cooler night temperature, hot tea was not what I wanted.  Lukewarm tea failed to revive me, and it was clear that only several hours of sleep would fix what was wrong with me.

So sitting, standing, pacing, sitting again, all the time listening to worship music and trying to pray—this was how I passed the rest of the night.  When 6AM came, Mi Kyong and I discussed whether to go catch a bus back to the house.  Zeppi assured us that he would stay and keep watch until the morning shift arrived, which would be in about an hour.

I got about 6 hours of much-needed sleep.  When I woke up, the dance team was preparing to go to the Prayer Center for dinner, then on to teach a Prophetic Dance class at a local church.  I went with them on the ferry again.  After dinner, some of the overnighters were left, while others went with us to the church.  The class was great, and again included lots of children.  It was lots of fun, but I was simply too physically tired to do very much, so I left early and returned to the house.

One of the attendees at the dance class commented on how dance is frowned upon by her church.  It made me think of the story of David and Michal, and how she criticized him for dancing with joy because of bringing the ark back to Jerusalem.  Honestly, I would rather be a David than a Michal.  God is good!  I’ll sing it, I’ll dance it, and even drum it in my sleep!  God is good!