POST by JED: Expecting God to Move...

The air is fresh at this time of year. Actually, where we live, the air is always fresh. I cannot tell you how hot I felt in our last house. I had a perpetual heat rash and it really was bothersome. I’d itch and scratch, bleed and scab. The problems tended to gravitate around my wrists. My wrists were hot because I wore long sleeved shirts for work. 

I was the 5^th grade school teacher, the only male primary school teacher in the institution, and so it all fell on me to be a good example in morality (which, didn´t you know, dress code falls under). And so… I suffered. I suffered in silence. I suffered alone. I suffered for the sake of decorum. I am consequentially the hero of elementary!

And so we sat there. No one said anything. My eyes twitched. They tend to do that from time-to-time. I’ll be looking around the group, and my eyes will suddenly lock with the young lady who is betrothed to the Nicaraguan Olympic Wrestler of 2012. Instead of glancing away I have a mental moment and continue to stare. My stare is only interrupted by the inevitable twitch, and unfortunately for me, this is when the fiancée also looks on in my direction. Eeeek, precious moments like these fill my life.

I clear my throat, “who wants coffee?” Not me, but I´ll do anything to get out of this ridiculous moment. I jump up, count hands, realising but not caring that the hands raised are waving “none for me”, “not today”, “it´s getting late”, etc. “Excellent, so everyone´s having coffee”. I leave the room.

Upon re-entry, I realise that Liz has the group mesmerised by her leadership aura. Liz really is the assertive/administrative type (though has a genetic disorder, post-pregnancy-syndrome, which has left her with only half her previous brain capacity) and when she wants something done, watch out!

Liz has had this “youth group” in her sights now, for many-a-day. Generally, the services are boring to us. We speak little Spanish, and understand less in Church (Really, you´d have to experience it to believe it. The Church we attend is Pentecostal, which we love… But, they´re so on fire that when they get started they speak so rapidly, and throw in so many Super-spiro words which wouldn´t normally be used in every-day-speak, we´re simply at a loss as to how events transpire…).

Liz´s concern, which is understandable, is that the youth tend to leave the service early, or start texting, or stare vacantly out the window… In any case, they depart, whether with their bodies or not, to a place far, far away…

Meanwhile, the adults are still being deeply moved by the pastor´s encounter with Proverbs, or a screaming prayer session in the mike to our apparently deaf Heavenly Father, or praisin off the roof to the rockin 50s tunes inherited from white northern missionaries, many, many years prior (many, MANY).

Liz - calm, serene, determined. She is not going to let this bone go. “We´re after some meaningful praise and worship, a short prayer for the offering, no ´specials´ (Christian karaoke for the older folk), a game, a relevant ´talk´ from an in-touch speaker, a spot of group prayer, without the announcements about whether-or-not we should get a loan for the $50 amp, or whether we should buy one outright”.

Sure, we do things differently, but no – when the youth service is not catered to the youth, and when the youth are leaving the Church, Houston – we have a problem.

And so… I sit down. I have 10 steaming cups of delicious java, which nobody apparently desires (poor them), and I get to enjoy every last sip by myself. Liz has closed the deal, once again, proving there is power in dialogue (step aside Clinton).

Hello Saturday night! We walk into Church. We´re excited, the music is pumping, the people are singing, it´s still cool and the Church is full. Saturday night, with the new format, is the only night where Church is full to overflowing (last Saturday night 10 people had to stand outside the Church).

The locals can´t afford to go to the movies, they cannot afford worldly luxuries such as alcohol and cigarettes, there is no bowling alley. The people of our barrio are either on the street chatting, or in Church singing. The entire congregation seemingly leave their pew to shake our hands.

We are treated like royalty at this Church, though we are very much a part of the body, at the grass roots level (it´s truly weird to us. Social status is unimportant. At our home Church in Canberra, Australia, we´re pretty much on the bottom rung of the socio-economic ladder, whilst here in Managua, simply because of our skin colour, we´re right at the top! Ridiculous…).

We arrive at our seats. We´re clapping, we´re singing, Raffy still has his fingers in his ears. The music is overbearingly loud. And then it happens… This night there is a special guest speaker. His wife arrives at the front of the Church and begins to sing. We all sit down (for dissimilar reasons). Nope, didn´t quite hit that note… Hmmmm, beautiful (heart)... We´re not thrilled-to-bits. Why are we having “specials” again. Whilst the intentions of the people are to glorify God, from our Western perspective, there just isn´t an element of excellence, which we fill is a part of worshipfulness.

I clap (alone). Next, father of the Church. Now this chap is adorable… We call him “Poppy”. He reminds us of our “Poppy” in Australia. However, he sings the same “special” at EVERY meeting! We can replay it in our minds on cue, and even know which bars he´ll sing off key. Please don´t get me wrong, heart of gold, HEART OF GOLD!!! …but not nearly a drop of musical talent. We clap wildly, Sezni almost making a mockery (He´s sincere, but gets excited by people in our Church finishing their “specials”).

And then the offering. More ho-hum-drum from the front and as we look around, it is clear to us that most of the “youth” have already checked-out. Sad. And as the pianist enters the 64^th verse, of this melodic, Latino hymn, Rafael dares sit on his seat. I think to tell him off, but then realise I´m just experiencing momentary envy. I crouch down to whisper something in his ear, but I fall on my buttocks by accident. I hug Raffy, which is excellent cover, cause who would dare judge a father for hugging his son whilst in Church.

Liz sees through my desperate attempt for a respite and gives me “the eye”. “We´re in Church” I imagine her to say… “How dare you be COMFORTABLE!” I slowly climb to my feet again. It´s agony.

We then have more specials, a few more pearler songs and a delightful 20 minute intro to the guest speaker by our pastora. And I´m spent…

They look to Liz for the game. She gives them the palm (like a stop sign). They look away. They know that tonight there will be no game. The guest speaker arrives at his post. Looooooooooooong sermon short, Jesus loves you.

I´m ready to up and leave when they ask Liz if we should go to “small groups”. Liz gives them another palm, which…

The pastora then offers an alter call. We look around and the crush is tangible. People are leaving their seats and moving forward. Even our daughter, Lorenzy moves forward. 10 people give their hearts to the Lord, and many more seek prayer for different matters.

The honest truth is that the Church meetings we go to can tend to drag (in our Western minds… Honestly, it is not crazy to go to a 5 hour service in a Nicaraguan Church of God, Church), but the Spirit of God is there and the people expect that he will move (and he does).

We have now started “youth group” in our home. We have the same expectation that God will move, and he is.

I am so blessed to have a terrific bunch of kids, who will get on their horses in the middle of the night, to go and share Jesus with the youth of our barrio. Who will openly pray with any person they encounter. Who will get up and preach to 100 youth. Who will pray for the sick in hospital, for the children in school and for their brothers and sisters in Christ who have nothing.

Our children are being raised to expect that God will move. And He will… We just have to put our hope in him and expect that he will move mountains in our lives, because that is his promise to us…

^“Hear my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray.  In the morning, LORD, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you  and wait expectantly” Psalm 5:2-3