Dancing in the Park

I had no sooner posted that last piece when Miki, leader of the dance team, came to me.  She said that as she was showering she was thanking God for sending an intercessor (me!) to pray for the team.  And God told her, “No, she’s a dancer.”

My jaw just fell open.  It seems that He’s calling me back to dance.  He’s got to do quite a bit of physical restoration to do that, but He is God of Restoration.  We walked to the ferry dock with my head swimming at the thought.

I generally don’t like boats very much, but the ferry crossing was really nice.  The water is the cleanest harbor water I have ever seen—or smelled!  It’s a pretty deep teal color, and there is no oily scum or floating trash that I’ve always associated with harbor water.  Here’s how clean the water is in Valletta harbor: I would actually swim in it!  I haven’t, but I would.

On the other side we took the elevator to the park high over the harbor.  Up there we found Herbie, the guitarist.  He grinned at us, “I had a good morning!  I did some busking, made some money.”  He had his guitar and a battery-powered amp with him.  He was clearly on a high from his successful morning.

I watched the team’s backpacks and prayed while they went to pray and Herbie went to look for a plug to recharge his amp.  Herbie came back at 2, the appointed start time.  He was grinning again.  He had found a plug in the Indian Embassy waiting room.  Inexplicably, they had not chased him off.  Well, not inexplicable, really because I had been praying for him to find a place to plug in.

Herbie warmed up the crowd with a Christian song, done in his own smooth jazz style.  People grabbed their phones, cameras, and tablets and started filming or taking pictures.  Then the dancers did a hip-hop number that looked like a lot of fun.  Herbie played a song or 2 in between each dance set.  Then a bunch of about 10 junior high school kids came along.  One boy started in mocking the dancers and tried to get the others to mock, too.  A couple of other boys did, but half-heartedly.  A couple of girls started dancing a little where they were, and after a while Miki invited them to join in the dance, and they did.  They were clearly having a lot of fun, and a friend filmed them with her tablet.  They stepped back into the group when the song was over, but stayed to listen to Herbie sing and play.  They joined into the next dance even more enthusiastically.

Meanwhile, people came by and put coins in Herbie’s open bag.  I saw one man come by and carefully put in about €5 worth of coins.  Later another man put a €10 bill in Herbie’s bag.  Herbie had a good day!

Then the dancers did a dance with streamers and the mocking boy made a grab for Miki’s streamer.  She gave it to him, and he danced with it, and with some degree of grace and style.  Then the kids announced that they had to go.  The 2 girls that had danced hugged each of the dancers and said good-bye, waving to the rest of us.  It was a really sweet moment.

Because of my duties in watching the backpacks and helping set up the music, I wasn’t able to get around to talk to very many people.  But I did get to talk briefly with one lady who was visiting from Australia.

It was a fun afternoon.  And I got another message from God about dancing, this time from Carrie, a Maltese believer who had come to support the dance team.  Carrie said to me: “You should get out there and dance with them.”  I said, “What on earth made you say that?”  She said, “I don’t know!”

Well, I do know: it was God!  I guess He’ll show me how He wants me to proceed.  God is good!

Break Every Chain

After only 3 hours, both Molly and I wanted to get back to the Prayer Center.  It wasn’t a lot of sleep, but both of us got 3 very good hours of sleep.  I love that we got to be the ones to launch the 24/7 prayer.  It was out of my comfort zone, but so worth it!  In fact, every time that I have stepped out of my comfort zone in response to God’s call, I have enjoyed it and been blessed.

And speaking of being called out of my comfort zone, God has encouraged me to speak to people here in Malta—strangers!  Those who know me might be surprised, but I’m really quite shy, especially when it comes to talking to strangers.  My mom is really good at striking up a conversation with a stranger, and seems to be able to do it anytime and anywhere, with grace and freedom.  I have not enjoyed such ability or success whenever I have tried.  But, since it is God that is calling me out of my comfort zone, I will do it, and will enjoy it and will be blessed.

In obedience, I have started to greet everyone I see on the street (except the ones that are talking on their phones).  Most people have responded in a friendly way.  In Texas I used to greet everyone on the street, even strangers.  But in Milan and in the northeastern US, I have gotten such odd and sometimes hostile reactions that I stopped doing it.  I spoke to the man next to me on the bus this morning, but found that his accent and the background noise made it really hard to understand him.  Although he didn’t seem to be quite awake, he responded in a friendly way.  When we got to the end of the line, he wished me a nice day.

Yesterday we had more prayer requests from the other Transform teams, and had a prayer meeting with local believers.  One couple came with their 10 year old son, but soon after worship started, they suddenly left.  I don’t know if they were offended by the freedom of our worship or if they had some unrelated issue.  It definitely was not our intent to offend anyone.  Malta is even more religiously Catholic than Italy—celebrating saint days with colored lights and garlands and fireworks and parades of statues in the streets.  The Renewal Movement (Charismatic Catholicism) has begun here, but it is not the majority by any means.  Most Catholics here, as in Italy, are nominal, ritualistically religious, or superstitiously religious.  True faith is rare here in Malta.  But it won’t stay that way.

Another issue for the Maltese is refugee boat people from Africa.  Most of the boat people drown before making land, but such is the desperation of these people that they just keep coming.  The same current that caused the Apostle Paul’s boat to shipwreck on Malta brings the African boats to these shores instead of to Italy (though many do land in Italy).  The European Union has told Malta that they must keep the boat people, so the population of the island has changed dramatically.  Many Maltese resent the presence of the Africans, feeling that their island has been invaded, their jobs taken, and their economy drained.  The fact is that the European Union financially helps Malta, though I don’t know how much.  Refugees are put into detention centers for a year while their backgrounds are checked.  As you can imagine, this is not a quick process, working in cooperation with various African governments that do not want to have these people returned to be a drain on their own struggling economies.  Then the refugees are released to find work that nobody else wants to do because of low pay or the danger involved.

Molly, who is a black African, discovered firsthand the anger and resentment of the Maltese for the African refugees.  She was walking with 2 other girls from our team, and they spoke to people in the park.  They asked one older man if they could pray for him.  An ugly look came over his face and he pointed his finger at Molly, shouting: “Pray about them!”

The unexpected venom of his anger startled and hurt Molly.  But later as she told us about the incident, Molly prayed for the man, forgiving him and releasing him to God’s love.  While walking with Molly, I saw another older man who scowled at Molly.  I turned to her and said, “Molly, I’m so sorry for the way that man spoke to you!”  How terrible to be hated so much just because of the color of your skin!  The man had no idea what a sweet person Molly is, or that she had come for the specific purpose of praying for his country.

Jesus is the chain-breaker, and He will break every chain and proclaim freedom to the captives.  Yes, Lord!  Break every chain!  God is good!

Tunisia, Italy, and the Dark Waters

Malta sits in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.  From this vantage point, we have been appointed to pray for the nations surrounding the Mediterranean.  I was drawn to pray for Tunisia, and was surprised to read on the prayer sheet that Tunisia had served as the launching point for taking Islam into Northern Africa.

While praying for Tunisia, specifically among other things that it would serve as a launching point for taking Christ into Northern Africa and beyond, into all the Islamic world.  Then as I prayed I looked at the floor map and noticed that Tunisia is shaped like a keyhole.  So I prayed for Tunisia to open the door to bring Christ into the Islamic world.

As I prayed more, I noticed also that Tunisia looks like the blade of a knife, cutting between Algeria and Libya.  So I prayed that Tunisia would cut, dividing Islamic Northern Africa, breaking the Islamic hold in that region of the world.

Then as I heard the worship music, I began to dance on the floor map of Tunisia.  In dancing, I finally felt that familiar shift in the spirit that tells me that my prayers have been heard.  And looking at Tunisia again, I noticed that from the southern point of Tunisia (the knife blade); it looks like a big crack running between Algeria and Libya.  Yes, a big crack!  Hallelujah!  Crack the hard nut of Islamic North Africa!

Our host, Dave, shared this morning the vision he had had of a lighthouse on Malta, but instead of a light bulb, there was a flame.  And as it shined, it sent sparks that set little fires blazing all around the Mediterranean.  I had a similar vision of a lighthouse, setting off sparks as it shined its light.  In both cases, we understood the vision to mean revival.

Malta is a strategic place, sitting as it does, in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.  Another vision that Dave had was of a great light entering the Mediterranean Sea at the Straits of Gibraltar, and crossing the sea (moving west), via the island stepping stones of Malta and Cyprus; finally arriving in Israel.  So again on the floor map we prayed and danced on the stepping stones: Gibraltar to Malta to Cyprus to Israel.

On a personal note, Dave shared a health concern about his newborn daughter.  He and Sharon (our hosts) were told that she has a rare disorder in which 2 facial nerves are missing, which makes her unable to nurse, show facial expression, or control her eyes.  Dave researched the condition and found that worldwide there are only about 3000 cases, none of which has ever been cured.  We prayed for little Bonnie, that God would do a creative miracle, putting the missing nerves in the place where they should be.  We also declared that this creative miracle would show the doctors who the Great Physician is, and turn their heart to the only One who can truly heal body, soul, and spirit.

As the night approached, I decided to go outside my comfort zone.  I signed up to do the first overnight shift of our 2 weeks of continuous prayer and worship in the MRPC (Mediterranean Regional Prayer Center).  I am not a night person, and when my pillow calls, I have a very hard time resisting its siren song.  But I had a cup of coffee at 10PM and went for it.  Since the last bus back to the house leaves at 10, I was committed at that point.

Three of us stayed all night: Karl, the team leader; Molly, and me.  A guitar player and a few local Maltese worshipers stayed for a while to help us get properly launched.  We started in joyous worship, singing, dancing, and playing tambourines and bongos.  Then we moved to more meditative worship and prayer.  The Maltese had mostly gone by midnight, but the guitar player, Herbie, stayed.  At 2AM we decided to go prayer walking.  We locked up the Prayer Center and headed into the cool, still night.  Lights twinkled off the water as we sought an open gate to the park overlooking the harbor.  All the gates were locked, so we walked around the park and down to the harbor.  On the way we passed a sleepy guard outside the Italian Embassy, and greeting him warmly.  Of course, he looked at us as if we were crazy.

At the harbor we found the gate to the passenger ferry open, so we went in to sit on the bench there and pray while looking at the black night water as it played with the full moon’s reflection.  The Transform teams from all the other countries had sent us prayer requests, so as Karl read each team’s prayer requests we took turns leading the prayer for them.  It made me feel a real partnership with each team as they seek to take the Good News of Jesus into each of their countries in a variety of ways: Bible giveaways, puppetry, dance, street evangelism, etc.

When he came to Italy, Karl gave me the task of leading prayer for my chosen home country.  The leader of this Italian team (there are 3 Italian teams in all) is a friend I’ve known and prayed for since practically the beginning of my time as a missionary in 2010.  Giuseppe does clowning as a way of sharing Jesus.  As I began to pray for him and his team, I could picture Giuseppe’s bright smile and imagine the laughter he brings with both his clown act and his message of real hope.

For those who are not intercessors or who have never tried praying for people in ministry, it can start out feeling like a burden, but soon becomes a pleasure, and a sweet burden.  The best part is when you get reports back of how God has answered your prayers on behalf of the person you’re praying for.  For me, praying for Giuseppe was the highlight of the night, although those prayers for the country of Tunisia were also pretty amazing.

Then as we finished up the requests for prayer, we decided to move on.  Herbie said good night to us there and made his way back to where he had parked his car.  We went to the top of a hill overlooking the harbor and watched a pilot boat and tug boat assist a big ferry through the harbor entrance and into port.  It was surprising the speed that the big ferry was moving as it entered the harbor.  The ferry made big waves that noisily splashed the rocks below us in a rhythm that reminded me of hands clapping.  Karl had taught us back in Rome about the power of rhythmic handclapping and drumming as a prayer tool (see Bingo Bango Bongo!).  I couldn’t stop smiling.

We continued our prayer walk into the center of Valletta and up to the Parliament Building.  As we passed in front of St. John’s cathedral, it chimed the half hour: 3:30AM.  The bell was very loud and startled us.  At the Parliament Building, I felt the urge to go put my hand on the door as we prayed.  I knew that there were probably security cameras trained on the door, but decided to go for it anyway.  I was not chased away, but almost as soon as I had returned to the others, a jeep drove up and let out a guard who entered the building through the door that I had just touched.  It was probably the night shift taking over.  They saw us, but took no particular notice, since we were just sitting on a bench.

As we passed in front of the cathedral again, it chimed the hour: 4AM.  Even though Karl warned us that it was coming, the loudness of the bell still startled us because it chimed exactly at the moment that we were passing in front of the bell tower.

When we returned to the Prayer Center Karl put on worship music.  He chose wonderful songs, but not very lively.  I grabbed a tambourine to keep myself awake, but found that my sleepy hands just couldn’t keep a rhythm.  So I switched to the bongos, which felt better for a while.  But while thumping them I felt myself slipping off into sleep.  Molly later commented about how I had drummed in my sleep.  Finally, I settled on an egg-shaker.  I stood on the map of Malta, singing and shaking.

Finally it was 6AM, and the buses would be starting soon.  Karl dismissed us, telling us that he would wait for the morning team and probably catch a nap upstairs when they arrived to take over.

On the way home, my sleep-deprived brain was terrified of missing our stop, so when I saw an area that looked familiar I ringed and we got off—probably 5 stops too soon.  Molly was a very good sport about it.  We both knew that the enemy would try to use that mistake to set us against each other, so we remained determined to stay united in love—and really, Molly gets all the credit for that, since it was my mistake.

God is good!  Even when we blunder and cause problems for each other, God is always good!

Bingo Bango Bongo!

Greetings from Malta!

Yesterday in the Rome airport I was walking by a shop and I saw a set of bongos.  The Lord said to buy the bongos.  So I went in, and without asking the price, I bought the bongos.  It turned out that they cost a lot less than I had thought they would they would.  When I told the rest of the team about the purchase, they got excited.  The dancers on the team especially got excited about the bongos, hoping that we can prayer walk/dance in the streets to the beat of bongos.

It wasn’t until later that I remembered the team leader’s teaching about the power or rhythmic drumming, hand clapping, and movement as a prayer tool.  Ha!  I couldn’t help but smile!

As we waited for boarding time, one girl asked if she could play the bongos.  I said, “Of course!” and handed them over.  She played a little while, but quietly there in the noisy airport.  I encouraged her to really give them a good thumping, but she kept playing quietly.  I think that perhaps, like me, she is not very experienced with bongos, and just wanted to try them out.

When we arrived, I couldn’t believe how pretty Malta is.  With ancient sun-bleached stone buildings, it looked very much like we were landing in the Holy Land, but with water all around.  And I guess that’s what it is, since the Apostle Paul was shipwrecked here, and the island embraced Christianity since that time.

We are 3 teams composed of many nationalities, many of whom, like me, live in a country other than their country of origin.  The 3 teams are an evangelistic team, a prayer team (which includes me!), and a dance team.  The prayer and dance teams will be working in and around the Mediterranean Regional Prayer Center here in Valletta, while the evangelistic team will be out on the streets all over the island.  The MRPC is also known as a House of Prayer, but they gave the name Malta House of Prayer to others.

The prayer and dance teams are being hosted by locals who have rented what I can only describe as a magnificent (and magnificently furnished) 3-storey villa overlooking the bay toward Valletta (the capital).  The basement and roof are also in use, giving the villa 5 working levels in all.  Last night we were welcomed with a BBQ feast and party on the roof.  As the sun set over Malta, the building facades were lit up, becoming even more beautiful, with the light twinkling off the dark water.

I brought the bongos up from my room in the basement and handed them to Celeste because of the way her face lit up when she saw them.  She played around on them a while, then when 2-year-old Jilly came over, she taught Jilly how to play, encouraging her to really pat them hard enough to produce sound.

This morning when Jilly saw the bongos, she boldly came and played them like a little expert, grinning in delight.  If it had been only for that moment, it was totally worth buying the bongos.

At the prayer house, I felt led to go out of my comfort zone and sign up for the very first overnight shift—way, way out of my comfort zone!  I am expecting God to do great things!  Go bang some bongos for the Lord and step out of your comfort zone.  You will discover what I’ve been saying all these years: God is good!  Oh yes!  God is good!