The sights, sounds, and smells of Africa are certainly different from where I live. Words seem inadequate.
And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, that they should seek God, and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, for ‘In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said. ‘For we are indeed his offspring.’
My nation has been referred to as a ‘melting pot’. Many people of different ethnicities, cultures, and backgrounds have immigrated to the United States, creating a diverse landscape of occupants both in the countryside and cities.
What does your tribe look like?
Mine consist of blond, brown, black, red, and gray headed people. A large percentage of us are fair skinned, a growing percentage of us are dark skinned, and a percentage of have an olive tone skin color. A few freckles can be found scattered throughout our people.
Who are your people?
We are a group of unified, red blooded, hard working, determined people. We have overcome wars, riots, diseases, natural disasters, human tragedies, foreign attacks, the depression, bombings, and other events that have molded us into the people we are.
What is your language?
The english language is our language of choice. Some of us place an emphasis on y’all, and some prefer to say ‘you guys’. Some say ‘coke’, and some like to say ‘pop’. The preference of slang can identify which part of our nation you reside.
It was a Sunday morning church service in Ghana, West Africa. As part of a team on a mission to drill water wells, I sat and listened to a song being sung by the congregation. I did not recognize the lyrics, or tune. Some members of our team were swaying to the rhythm of the music, even thou we did not understand the words being sung. Music has a way of moving us. Music can move our hearts in praise, worship, thanksgiving, and adoration. I worshipped with the people, even though they were not part of my nation. I worshipped with the people, even though they were not my tribe. I worshipped with the people, even though they were not my people. I worshipped with the people, even though I did not know their language.
Worship services in the United States happen in an enclosed heated and cooled structure. The congregation is protected from the elements of the outdoors with windows, doors, central heat, and central air conditioning. Other than services at church camps, or tent revivals, I can’t remember attending a worship service with no windows, doors, central heat, or central air conditioning. The people in this village attend church every week in an open environment, exposed to the harshness of the outdoors. There are no windows, only openings. There are no solid doors, only iron doors serving as an entrance.
Before the church services started dark gray clouds could be seen in the west. We had time to get into the building, and get seated, before the rain started pouring down. Not only did the rain pour down, but because of the strong winds, it came in the windows openings. Everyone quickly fled from the side where the rain was blowing thru the windows. The congregation was dressed to the max. All were purposefully dressed in their Sunday best. Dresses were the attire for women and men were dressed in slacks, or a suit. The women were equipped and prepared for an event like the rain. Some dresses had a wrap around the waist. It appeared to be a part of the dress, because it was made of the same fabric as the dress. As I looked out across the congregation most every woman had covered up with the wrap to cover herself, and protect her from the cold blowing wind. The wrap had a dual purpose. It served as a wrap to accent their dress, and it served as a covering for their bodies in times of need such as we had this morning. It seemed ingenuous to me, but I feel certain the wrap has been a tradition for maybe hundreds or thousands of years. The blowing wind made it cold, and it made me wish I had a dress with a wrap.
We worshipped in unison with the common purpose of giving glory and honor to God. The elements of the weather outside kept getting my attention, but it was the harmony of the singing, the harmony of the people, and the harmony of worship that moved me the most. Sitting in this building with complete strangers, and a cold blowing wind, there was warmth in the building.
A couple days after attending church, I downloaded the pictures and videos from the Sunday morning service onto my computer. Later, looking at some video clips I’d made during the service, my mind wandered. What will our nation be like in heaven? What will our tribe be like in heaven? Who will our people be in heaven? What will our language be in heaven? Listening to the singing on that day, in that building, in that language, with those people, gave me a very small sample of what heaven might be like. Can’t you just hear the voices of different languages and dialects all singing in unison, or will it all be one language? Can’t you just feel the praise and adoration songs being sung to the only One worthy? Can’t you just feel the unity of all in attendance being there for the purpose of honoring the One who offered us the gift of an eternity with Him? Just how great can it be?
Rev. 5:9 And they sang a new song, saying: "You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, because you were slain, and with your blood you purchased for God persons from every tribe and language and people and nation.
Rev. 7:9-10 After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: "Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb."
