All I ever had: Redemption Songs

Before we left for this trip, I got in contact with a man who I hold in phenomenally high esteem to get some various "pointers" about ministering in African culture. He is the son of African missionaries and has spent the majority of his life (so far) laboring to bring shalom to this continent. His advice to me was thus: "When you are ministering in foreign cultures, you listen first, learn second, and serve third." It was an extremely useful bit of advice, as my list had previously begun with "serve," and from there devolved into less noble goals (ie- try to impress Zambians with my wikipedia-sized nuggets of knowledge about their country's history.) As you may have surmised from Pastor Victoria's post yesterday, our team has been listening and learning quite a bit. I will allow the individual members of the team to communicate their own lessons to you-- the majority of which I'm sure will come through quiet reflection after we return home. One lesson however, I can't wait to share...

Last week Wednesday, after our day at the Helen DeVos school, we made a stop at one of ACE's buildings called the "House of Martha." This is the home for children age 4-14. After children graduate from the nursery at "House of Moses" they go to "House of Martha." When we arrived, we were greeted by 28 singing and dancing young Zambians. (By the way, capacity at the house is 15 children.) The songs of the children and staff reverberated throughout the 1000 square foot building as I took myself on a solo tour of the house's three bedrooms, one closet-sized bathroom, and kitchenette. After about 15 minutes of singing, I began to wonder when it would stop. (Not that I wanted it to stop... it just seemed like, you know, time to stop.) But it didn't. Those kids kept right on singing and dancing the entire time we were there. Not once did they stop to introduce themselves or to allow us to introduce ourselves. At one point they formed a circle and called people into the middle to dance while the rest of the group sang. (It was here that Dean Larsen earned the nickname "Dancefloor Dean.") After about 30 minutes, it became clear that the singing was not going to stop-- and we had to hit the road before the local workday ended. Rush hour takes on a much more ominous form when the pothole-filled dirt roads are packed with walkers, bicyclers, and hundreds of other motorists all headed in separate directions.

As we filed out the door, the children (still singing of course) formed a single-file line and followed us out of the house, danced past the sliding barbed-wire gate, and stood next to our van. People from the neighborhood peeked out to see what the singing was about-- and to get a look at the "muzungus" (white-faces) that had come to their neighborhood. As we pulled away, the singing began to fade, and the last words we heard were about "God's great blessings."

The House of Martha is located in a neighborhood called Kanayama Compound. (The word "compound" is used to describe a densely-populated neighborhood.) About 200 yards from the house is a huge field of garbage-- which doubles as a source of food and resources for some "scavengers" (local term.) Inside the House of Martha, there are a number of young adolescent girls. According to one of the ACE directors here, it is difficult to find homes for children after age 9-10, so most of those girls will probably never be adopted. And they know it. YET THEY SING AND DANCE. For all of the real reasons that the children have to sit in despair, they sing praises to God. They proclaim the name of Jesus as utterly good and, despite the seeming ridiculousness of it-- they sing.

You have heard from us-- and from other sources-- that the situation in Zambia is bad. That is certainly true, and by the Spirit's power, it should move us to radically different patterns of living. But it is not the whole truth. There is, even here, real physical and spiritual healing at work. There are, even here, strong redemptive forces at work. And though these forces are much stronger than any of us could fully comprehend, we are blessed to be included in their projects. The God whose creative power brought Zambia into existence, is still creating-- making things new-- here by the power of our risen Lord, Jesus Christ.

Forbid that we misunderstand the "bigness" of God's redemptive work as a release from our earthly responsibilities. Rather, may it help us to understand our comparative smallness-- for this is the starting point for humility, obedience, and beautifully ridiculous living.


In the name of Jesus, through whom all people have a living hope,
Matt