I had assumed that ''Simbe'' was
the same as "Simba,” the Swahili word for lion. Much
later I discovered that Simbe simply means “iron.”
Nonetheless, next thing we knew church building was under construction,
and Diane preached again under that papaya tree to a much larger
congregation. Then I delivered zinc roofing for the structure,
thanks to the Outreach Foundation, and beautiful flowers were
planted around it, and the spacious grounds were kept clean.
There's a midnight tune. I shiver in the damp cool air, and sagging
canvas flaps from a breeze. Is the choir celestial or just being
coached by an angel?
Earlier, on a Thursday morning in Blantyre, Malawi, I had purchased
on behalf of the Outreach Foundation, 150 Bibles in Chechewa and
a battery-operated megaphone, all sorely needed. In late afternoon,
very tired after a long and slow journey, I'd been welcomed to
Simbe by an excited throng, including the chief of Simbe. Joining
in the dancing, I felt like I'd gotten a certain reputation. I'm
not positive, but my translation of the clamorous Chechewan is,
"The dancing white preacher from America with the white Land
Rover is here!"
The Bibles were distributed by Pastor Manuel to each of the 27
churches of the parish, to organizations, and to individuals.
The people were so happy. Many are now able to read and comprehend
Scripture for the first time. And how encouraged they are to have
regular Bible studies! This impact may mean the beginning of a
revival of the Word of God in the land. Of course, it would be
good to secure even more Bibles. (I've not found any Chechewan
Bibles in Mozambique, only in Blantyre.)
Friday and Saturday I preached and taught for nine hours. Friday
morning only 40 attended, but by Saturday there wre about 150
people. Two leaders had come via mini-bus all the way from Mvire,
a journey of about four hours. The presentations were well received,
for which I cannot thank God enough. I saw enthusiasm to seek
God personally through His Word, and stirred-up interest to study
Scripture.
Also, children, hundreds and maybe a thousand, gathered each
night around bonfires to sing at the top of their lungs the praises
of God. I have never witnessed such enthusiasm—not even
at American football games!
The theme on Friday was ''Being Mosaic in Mozambique.”
The response to the revelation of Jesus Christ is walking in the
light of the glorious gospel. What keeps us from walking joyfully
in the revelation? What is it that we see in our spirit man? How
big is our revelation? Is it bigger than our experience of poverty?
The evangelist magnifies the revelation, making big the picture
of Jesus and His gospel, knowing Jesus is the victor with a way
out of poverty. God's light shines on the new place of blessing
where we have not yet been. Leaders follow Jesus, walking in His
light, receiving and imparting the blessings of God, practicing
both the joy of salvation and repentance, a turning and attunement
to the light. What do we really believe from our hearts? How powerful
is the confession of what we believe? What feeds our spirits?
Old manna can't feed us anymore, and we must respond to the new
hunger to be fed with the Word by searching where we have not
been before, led by the Holy Spirit.
On Saturday I acted out how a clenched stingy fist cannot receive
the blessings of God, but an open, sowing hand can. I drew a crude
map with the heel of my shoe and danced over it, shouting that
Mozambique belongs to the Lord, encouraging the leaders to act
out their faith aggressively with prophetic activity. Leaders
claim the land for Christ by walking in the light, and they will
not let the people be deceived again by the forces of darkness.
Claiming the land demands energy, but leaders will use it for
the sake of Christ, developing vision and magnifying the revelation
of Jesus Christ in order "to bring many children to glory.”
Sunday morning at the appointed time, I looked through the door
to see about 60 persons gathered for worship. I had expected many
more to come. Pastor Manuel thought we should wait a while to
begin. At about 9:30 we began to sing, and a flood of people began
to pour in, coming from surrounding churches. Even the area chief
had come, bedecked in a many-colored hat.
The service would last about four and a half hours. Choir after
choir sang and person after person spoke throughout the liturgy.
People continued to pour in until no more room seemed available.
We moved the table and pulpit to make more room, and people readjusted
until there was no aisle left. The place was completely packed.
The man who meticulously took the count said 642 adults were present
and at least 1,000 children; the count did not include all those
outside.
Before I preached, room had to be made for the Simbe Choir to
process forward. I did a quick count of more than 100 members.
The presentation was magnificent, not only to hear but to see.
About half of the choir were young women, dancing in moves difficult
to describe: bending forward, hands flinging right and left in
time with peculiar “hip jerks,” all in perfect rhythm
to drums.
When finally it came time to preach, I invited the choir director
up and asked the meaning of the Chechewan words of the last song.
The song had been delightful; the words were constant repetition.
The translator told me, “Dancing in Jesus, I'm dancing in
Jesus, dance in Jesus!” So I asked him to sing it again,
through the megaphone, because I'd really, right now, like to
dance in Jesus. So I did, almost needing, with the sudden commotion,
"to put a lid on it,” not wanting a stampede! I prophesied
even more new songs to flow through the very gifted choir director.
The sermon was well-received. It admonished the congregation
to be givers and to lead the land out of poverty, following the
Lord, bringing the inhabitants to the knowledge of salvation in
Jesus Christ.
During the concluding Holy Communion service, we almost ran out
of bread, and we did run out of the other element, a mixture of
wine, coca-cola and water. So the last to be served simply put
lips to the cup for significance.
Some elders, desiring solemn moments, seemed offended by the
loud exuberance of the Simbe choir, its members still unconfirmed
and therefore unable to take Communion. Outside, the walls of
red mud bricks again trembling, they were still singing to the
top of their lungs to God Almighty. But Pastor Manuel chanced
the solemnity of the moment to whisper over, in English, referring
to the experience, "This is good."
Charles Wonnenberg
The 2003 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p.52
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