There’s a song that echoes through my childhood. My mom used to sing it with my brothers and me and we would do it in rounds. I remember those evenings on the frayed brown corduroy couch in Faerie Glen, Pretoria when she would coach us on when to stand and when to sit; when to whisper the lines and when to yell them out loud with gusto.
Maybe you know it, it goes like this:
Hallelu – Hallelu – Hallelu – Hallelujah
Praise Ye the Lord! (x3)
Praise ye the Lord (x3)
Hallelujah!
Praise Ye the Lord!
Music beats strong and hard through many of my child hood memories. The Big Ship Fabulous Flea, John Denver, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Bon Jovi, Paul Simon, Bruce Springsteen, Whitney Houston, hymns and praise and worship. We loved it all.
Born in Zululand into a culture of clicks and foot stomping, ululatation and harmony, where I existed as a three-year-old determined to dance alongside the weathered grandmas when they celebrated their Christmas packages from the Mission; as an eight year-old riding her first bike; as a gangly pre-teen living in the Willows and convinced she would never be kissed; and as a lonely teenager lost without a mother, trying to find her again in the lyrics she loved.
At eight I can still see my mom’s face as she showed us how to crouch down low on the “Praise Ye the Lords” and leap up fingers scraping-the-ceiling-high on the “Hallelujahs.” We threw our entire childish bodies into those motions and those words and today I teach them to my sons. On the way to school in the car in the mornings we sing. We sing our Hallelujahs loud and without concern for what other drivers might think and we wave our arms high above seat-belted bodies as we declare with the boldness we so badly want to live out, “Praise Ye the Lord!”
We sing to the God we know. The God of our suburb, the God of our Sunday school class and Vacation Bible School. We sing to the God of church potlucks and crockpots overflowing with delicious fragrances. We sing to the God of full time jobs and two cars and a house that doesn’t leak when it rains. We sing to the God of superhero-themed birthday parties and Christmas celebrations and more support and family and love than we usually know what to do with.
We sing His hallelujah chorus and it’s the most familiar and dependable soundtrack of my life.
I heard it in Spanish for the first time today. In Spanish. In Guatemala.
It sounded the same and completely different. As I watched fifty children belt out the song that is as familiar to me as breathing, I realized they were singing to the same God as me, but I barely recognized Him.
They sang to the God of corrugated iron roofs. They sang to the God of concrete floors and mudslides that eat rooms that were never real rooms to begin with. They sang to the God of eleven people living in two rooms. They sang to the God of street gangs and stray dogs. They sang to the God of the children of the Compassion Center called “Jesus Christ our Glorious King.” They sang to the God of Antonio and Melinda and Astrid who colored pictures with me today.
They sang to the God who understands Spanish and their lives in a way that I do not.
How do we do it? How do we find the God we know and love and believe in, in the midst of places that don’t make sense? How do we translate the God we are familiar with into the God we encounter in a shanty town?
Standing on what was left of a path in the wake of last week’s mudslides I look over the sea of shining corrugated iron roofs searching for the God who meets me in Church on Sundays in Virginia. Because if we believe that He is the same yesterday, today and forever then that same truth must apply here.
Either I believe what I claim to or I do not. Either God is the same in Shanty towns as He is in Washington DC or Disney World. Either He holds the poor pressed tight against His heart and suffers with them or everything is meaningless.
“Listen, my beloved brothers. Didn’t God choose those who are Poor in this world to be rich in faith, and heirs of the Kingdom which he promised to those who love him?” James 2:5.
Here, under roofs stitched together with tin and sack cloth and rope, He is their God and they are His children. They walk close to Him because there is so little taking up the space between them. They send up their Hallelujahs without hesitation and this relentless childlike faith is the soundtrack to their lives.
In Spanish.
In close quarters.
In ways and means and faith that holds on through the hurricane.
Praise Ye the Lord.
Come sing with us? Sponsor a child – and be someone’s Hallelujah.
Thanks Lisa-Jo!
Fun to see how songs can transcend language and culture in some ways. Our kids love, love, love that song over here in Africa, and beg to sing it when we get home from church to do our little ‘English’ time. For whatever reason I associate it with summer camps and youth groups, but it’s good to know my kids are learning a song for all generations through all cultures. Hallelujah!
I remember hearing that very same song in Haiti last March rising from equally enthusiastic children who were (and still are) living in a tent. It was beautiful and heart wrenching at the same time.
I remember that song and if I close my eyes (thanks to your beautiful words) I can hear those sweet children singing it in Guatemala. Thank you for taking us with you as you are the hands and feet of Jesus this week!
God.is.so.faithful. even when we don’t understand. Lisa-Jo, I think this might be my favorite post of yours ever. Praying for you . . .
Lisa Jo,
I praise God for your compassion and joy, how it comes through in this beautiful message. Blessings on your journey. Keep sharing…love your writing and pictures!
Sarah
Lisa Jo,
Your post blesses my heart more than I can say. We adopted our first son from Guatemala and seeing the pictures and knowing where he could be breaks my heart. I know that by God’s grace he is here with us, but if he wasn’t I know that God would’ve found Him wherever he was maybe by someone like you! We also support a little boy in Guatemala through World Vision. It’s awesome to see the difference that our little bit of money and sacrifice can make to them. Thank you for your willingness to serve others and to be the hands and feet of Christ!
That was so powerful, Lisa.
Lisa Jo–I’m delighted about and touched by your wonderful teaching here. Thank you for it. Sarah Williamson shared it with me. The chorus–with its up and down action–was woven all through my church and camp experience growing up, so your story especially resonates with me, too. God bless you in the important work you’re doing in Gautamala–Nancy
I love your heart. And the incredible pilgrimage God has set her on. Already trying to think how I can get back to DC soon so I can hear about all this in person. I don’t want to miss a thing…
I miss you. Would give a lot to process this with you in person.
Absolutely beautiful post Lisa-Jo. It’s hard to reconcile our thoughts with what we know to be true when we encounter Guatemalan villages with kids praising God in the middle of so much ‘need’ and what we know as life in the States (if that makes any sense to you). I’m so sad my speakers aren’t working on my computer this morning to hear their voices sing a familiar song. It will have to wait.
Beautiful beautiful post. Praying for y’all and the people of Guatemala.
LJ-
Your words send tingles over my entire body! How well I remember my childhood days of shouting out those words in a little church in the hills of northwestern Pennsylvania. You just need to teach your new children to jump up when it’s their turn to sing.
I so long for the day that you will return to us, your *now home* and share face-to-face with us this new SAME GOD yesterday. Today. FOREVER.
Hallelujah!
Jesus spells love in any language, doesn’t it? You are doing an amazing job. Love your heart!
Such a beautiful post and reminder. Thank you!
Lisa Jo–The editor of Gordon publications has asked me for your permission for her to use this in one of those publications. I hope you will see this request and respond to me at the email address given above. Thanks–Nancy
I have two girls in Tanazania that I sponsor through Compassion…it is such a good program!! I can’t wait to get to heaven and us all sing together. I had the same experience when I was in Odessa on a mission trip- its great hearing familar songs in another language…
I was thinking of yall and praying on my way into work. I am so humbled that I live here, where i do, and wonder why so many days that I am so materially blessed…praying for safety for you all. (and admitting that I am a teensy bit jealous you get to room with voskamp!)
I sang that song in Scotland – we used to do it at school and we loved it for the standing up and sitting down!! I never heard it in South Africa though.
I wonder how many generations of us have sung that dear song? I’m an old grandma now, and I used to sing that song when I was a kid. Thanks for reminding me–I should be sure to share it with my grandkids.
Lisa-Jo, once again you and your heart and your words have come together to create a symphony. I don’t know how you do it! We readers are richly blessed by your ministries. I’m praying for you.
LT
I wish I were there… beautiful.
I remember in Panama hearing the children sing at the feeding centers and how their joy brought me to tears. It’s a wonderful thing.
“Either He holds the poor pressed tight against His heart and suffers with them or everything is meaningless.”
Yes, Lisa-Jo, yes! May we follow Him in even this!
Hi Lisa Jo!
I grew up with that little song too! I still to this day don’t believe the boys were better than the girls! (it was always a contest) Thank you for this beautiful posting! We are so very Blessed in our country! Blessings to you & all your Family, Bonnie
Hi there Bonnie – thanks so much for the encouragement. It was a whirlwind of an experience and it is something I think I will still be processing for some time to come. Thank you for traveling along with us!
Thank you for sharing those beautiful voices – my heart soars and tears fall as they praise the Lord right where they are. Thank you Jesus and let me praise you like them.
Thank you, Lisa-Jo. I sing this to my children too….
My daughter and I watched the clip. I am going to embed it on my blog. I hope that is ok.
following, praying and so excited for all of you…
Oh I love your blog and so enjoyed reading about your life. I also had a 2 week visit this time last year to your beautiful homeland and fell in love with the cape town people and truly can’t wait to go back. This song evoked memories for me as a young girl in the South Carolina low country where we lived on Paris Island during my dad’s time there in the USMC. We attended a small Baptist church and I remember how loud we would get as the hallelus and praise ye the Lords competed for volume. Those tile floors echoed with His praises…
Many blessings to you as you serve in Guatemala. Give my best to sweet Amanda and the rest of the team. I adore Ann V’s writing and even ordered some music by the artist that plays in the background on her blog.
In Christ,
GA Jan
Oh Jan – that team, they were one of the most blessed parts of the trip! And every single one of those women is just as generous and gracious and compassionate as you might imagine them to be. I was humbled to be in their company and be able to call them friends!
I loved this post. Thank you for articulating so well the wrestling match of the soul that takes place on these trips. “Either I believe what I claim to or I do not.” Difficult words.
Love this!!! Wish I could be standing there in person…those faces, the voices get my heart!
I am having a hard time reading your posts, and Ann’s and all the others. Somehow the screen is all blurry all the time. Your words and pictures, your dear hearts, are so moving. We sponsor a couple of children. It is a blessing beyond words. It takes so little to make such a big difference in their lives.
I am sending you love and prayers. You are making a difference in Jesus’ name.
Linda – we had a hard time writing them. I think Ann and I cried through the writing of most of ours. But it has been the comments, the hurricane of love and support that truly blew us away. Thank you for being the comfort we could hold onto on the hard days.
What worthy words you write for these precious children. How they are able to shout their Hallelujahs in the midst of hurricane devestation…only God! The Mama heart He has grown in you is stunning. It shines!
I thank you for taking this trip – and bringing it back to us!! where I sit in fluffy comfy ac and manicured lawns and think I have faith. their faith is beautiful and so real.
praying for you!
Stef
We taught that song (in English) to 130 beautiful kiddos in state-run orphanage in Cambodia this summer. They loved jumping up and down at the right times and singing as loud as they could. But unlike the kids at the Asia’s Hope orphanage our church sponsors, these kiddos don’t know Jesus. While they technically have a home and are provided for, they don’t have much love or hope. Breaks my heart.
Oh man – LOVE to hear that. Just beautiful to picture!
stark contrasts those…
ugliness of poverty vs beautiful people
I love the way you spun this… and I can just hear the song, in English AND Spanish!
thank you for participating in this! I think it is a great thing… I’m blogging it tonight ;)
The frames you’ve captured look so familiar to me that although they picture poverty, they are still ever so beautiful to me at the same time.
amy in peru
We’ve grown to believe that God is only the God of those who are blessed with financial security. He is the God of the least of these.
I love reading the different stories from every Compassion blogger.
But your insights are especially interesting to me, Lisa-Jo, because you have a unique background.
So to hear you say that you are struggling to reconcile the God of suburbia with the God of the shantytown — well, it shakes me to my core.
Continuing to pray, brave one. I’m so glad you don’t back down.
And interestingly, the hardest part for me was the days when we bumped into hope. The horrid, the hard, the unspeakable is terribly familiar to me. But the stories of hope, of rescue of love, those were the ones that had me streaming tears to discover in the most unexpected of places. Beauty is the most shocking when it shines out of the darkness.
Well, fair questions indeed! I think what they have is a much better grasp on God and the fact that to have Him is to be rich and blessed. He is THE treasure! I have grown quite sick of my idolatry of “things”. I do not think I am alone. But then seeing people living daily without our luxuries, all the things we consider necessities: washer/dryers, running water, quiet flushing toilets, ac/heat and lights….. Oh, God help us to know you.
Exerpt from “The Pursuit of God” by A.W. Tozer
“The way to deeper knowledge of God is through the lonely valleys of soul-poverty and abnegation of all things. The blessed ones who possess the Kingdom are they who have repudiated every external thing and have rooted from their hearts all sense of possessing. They are “poor in spirit.” They have reached an inward state paralleling the outward circumstances of the common beggar in the streets of Jerusalem; that is what the word “poor” as Christ used it actually means. These blessed poor are no longer slaves to the tyranny of things. They have broken the yoke of the oppressor; and this they have done not by fighting but by surrendering. Though free from all sense of possessing,
they yet possess all things. “Theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” “
Brought me to happy tears! Love it
We sang that son in MD, too…but I didn’t realize it was such a global song! So cool!!!