Worship of the Rescued

The sound of hands softly beating a drum carried up to our room. The rhythm had a sort of entrancing effect as it echoed through the courtyard, arriving to announce that the day was beginning. Next came the voices of 50 women singing as loudly as their lungs would allow. The choir sang in unison praises to God as though joining King David and presenting prayers as incense before the throne of the Almighty.

Words cannot convey its beauty.

I hadn’t the slightest clue what the song was about… but tears streaked down my cheeks. My soul felt the depth of their love and passion for the same Jesus that I call Savior. My heart sunk into solemn reverence, suddenly aware that I had been ushered into the presence of the King. I had come here to minister to them… so I thought. Instead, they were teaching me how to worship. With all the horror they had seen, I would understand if they doubted God’s love. But here they stood with lifted hands and tear-soaked cheeks, praising their King with all that they had.

I buried my face in my hands. “I’m so sorry, Jesus.” I felt ashamed to be in the presence of the King among my sisters. Their passion made my faith seem so small. I neglect to praise the King far too often. I find so many other things to praise… so many other things to give my attention and passion to. Often I allow my questions regarding his ways to keep me from giving him the acknowledgement of his worth. How conditional my love is.

Each morning as we joined them in this habit of devotion, I realized how out of “worship practice” I was. I tired easily. But it seemed like they would have gone on for hours if the breakfast whistle never blew. All around me stood young girls and old women who have seen untold atrocities, beginning each day holding nothing back in prayer and glorious praise to the Author of Life. They didn’t base their love for God on what He did NOT do in their lives… instead they celebrated what He HAS done. He could have prevented what happened to them, yet he chose not to for reasons we cannot know. It is what God does not do that often causes us question if He truly loves. However, were it not for the fact that these women needed physical rescue, they would have never experienced the spiritual rescue that they now know.

Could it be that God allows us to see hell on earth because it is

there we will encounter Him?

These women had truly been saved in everyway imaginable… from poverty, hunger, abuse, neglect and spiritual darkness. God violently ripped them out of the pit of hell they lived in, to show them his radical love and give them a hope and a future. That’s the kind of God I want to serve… He’s the kind of King worth all the acknowledgement and attention I can offer. He is worthy of praise… no matter how much we don’t understand His ways.

“Love the Lord your God, with ALL your heart, ALL your soul and ALL your mind.” – Matt. 22:38