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The Glory Falls
"When dreams come true there is life and joy" (Proverbs 13:12 NLT) and we had finally stepped into the place where we were experiencing this marvelous kind of joy! As we did, I remembered all the times in the past when the Father kept telling me…
"Surely you have a future ahead of you. Your hope will not be disappointed
(Proverbs 23:18 NLT). So many times I felt like giving up, especially when I lived in the "back side of the desert" and I grappled with the tremendous discouragement of my "hope being deferred." Through the years there were also countless times when I was too weary to keep on hoping and trusting. But now I thanked the Father day and night for giving me the courage to keep on going because finally, on the other side of all the waiting and struggles, I was living the dream He had put in my heart. But it was sobering for me to consider how much I would have missed out on if I had given up and quit. For days my heart was so full of what we were experiencing that it was difficult for me to put my thoughts into words. Now the rain came as a welcome friend and slowed down the pace of our activities. We were safe and warm in our Ugandan home and I was finally inspired to write. Our favorite times were the early morning. Barry and I ate a simple breakfast of fresh fruit from the village and contentedly watched the first colors of dawn streak across the African sky. We then bowed down before the Lord and worshipped Him. Long ago we had learned that this time of intimacy with the Father was absolutely critical for walking in the ministry He had called us to. We were both convinced that anything of value that comes out of our lives is the fruit of these times together in His presence. Since the day we first arrived in East Africa, we asked the Father to make it possible for us to reach out to the pastors in the bush. God was quick to answer our prayers. At the beginning of our second week, one of them was visiting the church and he lingered outside our home as he listened to us worship with the harp. The following morning he was there again and we invited him to join us, along with another bush pastor. We laughed and cried with them and they rapidly became dear to us. Soon many others arrived for a monthly conference and our new friends excitedly told them about the "wonderful times at the home of Masumba Barry and Mama Ruth." The following morning we decided to skip breakfast and just worship. As the presence of God filled the room, I was oblivious to our surroundings and Barry was prostrate on his face. But soon I became aware of others softly singing with us. I opened my eyes and the small room was full of African pastors who were on their knees or had pressed their faces to the ground as they worshipped. The singing echoed out across the valley below the village as the glory of the Lord fell upon us. Several of the men were so overtaken by this visitation of God's presence that they could only bury their faces in their hands and weep. The worship came in waves, rising and falling in the most reverent, heavenly sound I've ever heard. After a long time, our voices faded and everyone sat down. Soon a gentle spirited man began to share this astounding story…
All eyes were on this soft-spoken man as he fell to his knees, covered his face with trembling hands and cried out, "My God, I thank You for doing what You promised me." The miracle of this man's vision is that Ugandans have no idea what a harp is. They have never seen one and there isn't even a word in their language for this instrument. Yet God showed this humble man who lived in the middle of nowhere, deep in the bush of Africa, something impossible and unimaginable and it had come to pass. The room was filled with a reverent hush. None of us wanted to break the silence to even speak. Then moments later one of the pastors began a song in Luganda and with tears streaming down each face, they sang…
"Oh God, You are worthy of all our worship. On Friday afternoon it was time for the pastors to begin their long journey back into the bush. Their countenances radiated an eager anticipation of the day when we would come and bring to their people the harp and the worship in the "new song" that had touched them so deeply. As we hugged each one goodbye, I knew I would never forget the day the glory fell upon us all in that humble room. Forever etched on my heart was the face of the man who waited for four years for a white lady with a harp to come to East Africa and play it like David. Through this amazing encounter, Barry and I felt the Father assuring us…
"I told you when you began this walk by faith to 'ask of Me and I will give you the nations
as your inheritance' (Psalms 2:8 NASB). |
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