holili

One week ago, Sunday.... I was asked to be a part of a ministry team traveling to Holili. A missionary friend, Mama Alice was going to give the message (in english) which means I'd be able to follow along!!! I was one of five asked to be there, to be ready and waiting on the Lord. I was honored and excited to be given this opportunity t o experience a new church and a new people. Also, I am ready to get my toes wet with this type of ministry, so I happily went along. We drove about fourty five minutes from Moshi, first down "paved" roads, then down dirt roads, then down a "river runs through it" dirt roads, which were 50% washed away and an awesome challenge in Alice's old school land rover suv. At 10:28am, we pulled up to a large stone, four wall, dirt floor, tin roof, half built but fully useful, church. Here in africa, people raise money- start a building, pause to raise more money- build more of the building, pause to raise more money- build more, and so on. It can and does take years. When it is a church building, the congregation will use the existing structure, in whatever form it has taken, as they wait for the more they are having faith over.

There were about forty people in the raw cut, wooden pews and then six of us, the ministry team and Pastor F., sitting way up front in orange chairs. Talk about all eyes on us... and me. It wasnt until about two hours later that I realized I was one of only two white people present in the church... and probably in the whole of Holili. That happens here in africa, not the no white people, but the gift of forgetting that you are white... different. It just doesnt matter.
As I lived this experience, observing and feeling this whole picture i kept saying, "Caitlin, remember remember remember. Dont forget this. Do not forget this.".... but there were like 777 things to not forget so I turned to the Holy Spirit and said "You know my weak thoughts and my even weaker ability to retain them. Let me keep in my heart what You desire for me to have- and share." So together- now- we'll see what He deemed most important.

For me, it was about simplicity and purity and beauty expressed through colors and movement and sounds of praise. The colors always grab me most... first. Everyone in Africa dresses up for service. The men wear button downs and pants, second-hand from America. They dont match and nothing is hemmed, but they and thier women see it as handsome. I have no opinion on this. I haven't paid much attention to the look of the males, for it is the females who catch my eye and my click click. The women and girls wear second-hand America dresses from the mid eighties- think ruffles and fluff and shiny fabrics and pastel colors- or large tee-shirts wrapped over with African kongas. There is no importance placed on matching colors or styles yet still, individually, the women are beautiful... spectacular happens when the women are in clumps... thier colors combining and uniting and playing off of each other! It's much the same as thier voices- beautiful in solo, but spectacular in unity. I dont have words to capture this depth of beauty and even my photographs fail me in this. It is the females, and all they entail, mixed with my creative mind and heart that create, for me, these awe- moments. I wonder, at times, if all this would have a similar effect on you... or if it's only me who gets to see it from this angle (simply because Im the only me). hmmmm!? Okay, so service begins, pastor prays, first "choir" steps up. One woman sings alone, the church knows when to join her. Her sound is very African- which to me means meloncholy at first, sort of like the calling of one whale to another- it is deep and desperate. It then turns sweet and deeper still, the sound of a love-sick lover. Something inside melts while simuletaneously being strengthened.

Second choir was a group of six women- who had a similar sound as the solo, but moved to a tribal dance- simple, but thiers. The "wow" here was that mid way through the song, the girls of the church stepped into the aisle in three lines of three each, and began to dance along. It was powerful! I was awe struck by these beautiful, young, colorfully dressed, spirit-filled, fun girls dancing for Jesus! Pow! and their dance is that of working a field and pounding grain and cleaning- service, but put in this context, it is a dance of service to the King. Pow! Pow! Pow! (What is Pow! right...I dont even like writing it, bc it feels super cheezy but it most accurately describes the explosions occuring on my insides - that spiritually jolt me- as Jesus reveals new Him through the beauty of others wholly, desperately, loving Him. It's Pow!) Four minutes before this greatest love song and dance ends, Mama Alice said that Pastor F. said (that he said that she said...) I could shoot it- photograph it. My heart lept (sp)! I caught only moments but it is enough. There were more choirs... lots more... third choir was five women, fourth choir was the girls alone, fifth choir..., sixth choir..., etc... Jesus was present and honored.

The message was Spirit-led.

The church of Holili is desperate for revival, for the Holy Spirit, to see His face. There are mountains laced throughout this area of Africa.... literal and figurative mountains. As in actual masses of land that rise far above ground level into a point, and then those of spiritual darkness, hindering breakthrough. The church of Holili climbed one of the literal mountains every day in February to pray for one hour over the hindering, spirtual mountains of darkness. They had been faithful and had expectant hearts... so we prayed! This was more Pow! truly, five people and the Holy Spirit laying hands on forty people- one at a time- and praying in Swahili, English, and Tongues- some hearts falling out in the Spirit, rivers of tears releasing pains, regrets, fears, doubts, loss, followed up with deeeeeeeeeeep breaths ushering in healing, love, LOVE, acceptance, forgiveness, and new beginnings. It was in this moment, as i picked up each beautiful brown hand with my hand, that i noticed a contrast of colors... "Im white!" and maybe the first and only white person to ever touch this beautiful brown skinned hand. Wow! total Pow! but it didnt matter, skin color, body size, height, hair style, face- these are just bodies to carry us from here to there, it's not about what these skin suits look like, it's about how we use them to honor Him- laying hands on His lost and loved, hugging, loving, serving. He moved through me to the exact degree that He moved through Emilie Anna, Joel, Emman Dogu, and Mama Alice. Power! Power! Power! Jesus!
He gave me a gift of visions- allowing me to see some of the women through His eyes- His plans for them and I was able to share the visions with the women. Power! God is fun, y'all. He is creative and imaginative and beautiful and He's God, so Pow Pow Pow- everything He does is God sized!

About an hour and a half into Holy Spirit praying, I realized that I was wasted- exhausted. My knees hurt, my head hurt, I was emotionally drained and I felt done. But you know J.C., He wont release me until my flesh is more than injured, it must be destroyed. It was another forty five minutes before we were done parying. God was moving, people were moved. I was so honored to be a part of this. I was done. Service went on a bit longer. We were there for a total of four and a half hours. At it's end, we were told to exit first, lining up outside and shaking everyones hand. As each person followed, they fell into line next to us shaking the hands of those after them. We ended in a huge rainbow-like, semi- circle, everyone having touched everyone else, colors alive and dancing. One last song of praise was sung and service was over over over. The beautiful rainbow of faces and hearts and color in unity, broke and we left to travel over the river and through the woods on dirt road, to an elder's home for eats. Ten of us were to eat together. This included the pastor and his wife (who I havent mentioned much yet, but they were so beautiful- pure for God, and warm), the elder and his wife, we five, and one other man. We were asked to sit down in a turquoise, green, and blue painted 10ft X 10ft room, on any seat of our choosing. We sat for only a moment before food was brought in and placed upon a small coffee table in the center of the room. I washed my hands by holding them over a large bowl placed in front of me and rubbing my hands under running water poured from a pitcher. Raw and simple and real.... not necessarily real clean, but certainly real. Lunch was a true blessing- looking fabulous, tasting "yummy"- rice, meat with some broth, potatoes, and warm coca cola. We talked a bit, I took some great photographs, we blessed the house, prayed, and then left.

The Holili experience was Holy and whole, fully African and right. Ill never forget the colors, the sound, the Pow!, the gift...