Episode 4: Gimme that Four-on-the-Floor

*Boom-chick, boom-chick, boom-chick, boom-chick*

There it was again, that song we had sung every Sunday and Wednesday night for the past few weeks.
Sitting strategically in one of the back rows of what our teams has come to lovingly call "Loud Church," I could easily see the entire room change before my eyes. The shoes were coming off. The song was starting.

This wasn't just some worship chorus that you could passively participate in if you felt so inclined, this was an anthem, and an epic in every sense. It seemed to be a hybrid between a polka and the soundtrack from "The Prince of Egypt." Thus, it was genius.

I couldn't understand a single word of what was being sung because of the incredible volume that had been achieved through so few speakers… and also because it was all in Spanish. But while taking a break from clapping, I realized that if I cupped my hands, I could feel the vibrations of the lower notes resonating in the air I had trapped.

Even though the words were lost on me, what I saw moved me almost to tears. People, young and old, filed out of their seats to the front of the slightly raised stage and began to dance. They spun in circles; they hopped up and down; they shook their fists victoriously; they closed their eyes, and threw their heads back, singing at the top of their lungs. They clapped on 1 & 3, and then 2 & 4… Have mercy!

It was powerful to watch generations worship openly together. Two women was supporting an elderly lady between them so that she could stand and shuffle her feet to the rhythm. A little boy ran forward and fell to his knees in worship next to his older brothers in Christ. And a suave-looking young man sang with abandon next to a teeny-tiny woman who clutched her microphone with both hands.

The pastor of the church had thrown off his suit jacket and was twirling around in front of the worship band before they made it through the first key-change. He continued to lead his congregation boldy in this way throughout all 6 key and/or rhythm changes. That's right- 17 minutes of twirling. But to these people, they couldn't make enough noise or get high enough off of the ground to express their joy to our God. It was stunning. Even after several weeks of singing this same song, I still couldn't do anything but clap and sway and grin from ear to ear.

This unabashed freedom of worship is something that American churches should envy. And as I watched, my heart broke because I did! This joyful noise cacophony was an offering that not only brought joy to my heart, but also to the Lord's. He looked down on this group of his kids on the east coast of Guatemala and said, "You're crazy!! And I love you…"

Post Script:
For those of you who consider God to be somewhat reserved, he's secretly a bit of a yeller himself… Good thing, too. My ears are still ringing.

"God has gone up with a shout,
    the Lord with the sound of a trumpet.
Sing praises to God, sing praises!
    Sing praises to our King, sing praises!"
                                                                               – Psalm 47:5-6 (ESV)