Hakuna Wakaita Sey Yesu

There's no one like Jesus.

I went to Cornerstone this morning and the Watoto choir was there- a group of children from Uganda who are touring around singing Jesus music, and ending their stay with a performance with Chris Tomlin. I had no idea they were going to be there this morning, and after missing the past couple weeks of church, this was a gift I didn't know I needed.

I had been feeling for awhile very alone and anxious. The past couple weeks I just couldn't seem to get my head above the surface or my feelings straightened out, and every time I had the opportunity for fellowship, I either panicked or was overcome with a lack of energy. The whole situation was stressful for me-- I'm not like that! I can have my introverted times and need to relax at home or by myself for awhile, but usually I welcome company and being social. I love people and having fun, and this whole anti-social wave knocked me completely out of my comfort zone. I don't know if there was more than just my quiet times that got me back on track, but I do know that I found my joy again one morning. I realized that all that I was praying for, could go a completely different way. I could pray for the ideal situation to occur, and know that God is faithful. I could pray for the desires of my heart, though they are mysterious and still hazy for me, because God can make them happen...He knows what they are, and that's what matters. The last week or so I've felt the difference, seen the joy again, and have been dancing in that truth. I hope to not return back to that anxious, alone state again, but at least it made his joy and truth all the sweeter.

So this morning when the kids came running onto the stage and I felt the familiar energy and saw the happiness and heard the freeing sounds of African worship, I teared up. In Africa there are no restraints: when you feel moved, you dance. You cry out. You praise Him with whatever is on your heart, mind, and in your body. It felt so restricting to be in the audience- everyone sitting there, smiling, dancing a little in their chairs. I wanted to jump up and dance around like a fool for God (because trying to do their dances actually takes an amount of coordination and practice) and feel included in their praise. So I did in my heart, and moved as much as I could while sitting there.

The songs they sang praised the Lord for his love, for knowing our names, and for his faithfulness. When the pictures of children back in Uganda came on the screen, I began to cry. I remembered that God loves those children and remembers them by name, even when I don't. They are over there living their lives and I am here living mine, and I wish I could combine the two. The honesty you see in their faces reminds me of how I felt in Africa- completely unashamed of the gospel and aware of his unique and powerful redemption. I feel so shackled here sometimes, though I know that in Him I am free and have no need to conform or fear anything. I wish that everyday I could praise Him like the Africans do: with complete joy, trust, and abandon.