Praise amidst Lament

Saturday morning we arose bright and early to go to Horseshoe, Guruve (a rural area in another province). It was a beautiful drive, and we saw all kinds of rural homes with thatched rooves. The Salvation Army officially opened Horseshoe as a gathering place, and also a training centre for farmers. Then we had the territorial self-denial ingathering. All of the various Salvation Army divisions and institutions gathered to bring in their donations for self-denial/partners in mission. There was a lot of suspense as the figures were being announced. I was amazed that the territory raised almost $10 billion (ZIM) towards helping countries in need. What a generous outpouring from a country that is itself in need. There was a lot of excitement and jubilant singing and dancing (someone made the comment to me that I can't seem to stand still, but I can't help it! This is the music of my soul - I just have to dance to it!) The service lasted 6 hours, but it didn't seem that long with all the dancing. Well, OK, maybe it seemed longer for John - he's less of a dancer, and has to take photos of every single speaker and singer! The service ended with the Territorial Commander getting a live goat as a gift from the Guruve division.

Sunday we celebrated Fathers' Day at our corps (better a week late than never). I must admit, I had a few tears as children went to the front and presented gifts to their fathers. I was missing my dad. But then right afterwards we sang this joyful praise song. Every time I hear singing in this country, it is a reminder of the great honour I feel to be sharing life, and sharing praise, with people here at this time. The sermon was all about claiming restoration. We sang a song of lament at the end, and my heart was just breaking for the Zimbabwean people, who have been suffering so much, and just calling out to God for so long. I cried again, just weeping for the people here, and pleading (with them) for God to listen. And then after the lament, we sang another joyful worship song, and everyone was clapping and dancing and singing. It's a stereotype, but that's one of the things I really love about African people - they continue to praise amidst sorrow and lament, and they continue to find joy amidst great pain. And that's true joy - not a happiness that ignores and avoids pain, but a joy that sees and feels all pain, and yet still finds room for hope. I long for this type of praise in my spirit - the type that trusts God and lives in hope despite any and every circumstance. Amen!