A Chorus of Glory

My most recent post, Why We Remember, while dedicated to the memory of 9/11, brought Christian perspective to the general importance of rembrance.  

Remembrance gives purpose. Remembrance brings gratitude.  

Remembrance strengthens community.  Remembrance provides perspective.  

Remembrance reignites hope 

in what God will bring us through today and forever... 

because He is faithful.

Today, I was reading this post by my friend Bonnie over at Faith Barista; it is a tribute to a dying friend through whom a song of joy still rings clear, a song that will resound long after death because of the work of God in her.  In this story, I heard a familiar melody and her name was Sweet Michelle.  In her brief four months, she taught me how to fight for life and reminded me of the Kingdom for which we are made and in which we are called to live now.  Today I remember her, and it reignites my hope, because it brings me back to Him, the One who brings us through... the One who really is faithful. 

Let us not take this life for granted and let us live every breath in worship of our loving God, letting the songs of our lives resonate even now, a chorus of His glory.

Should you want to know more, the following are excerpts from my newsletters sent in 2006, sharing the story of Michelle Amani.  Much has been edited out for length and sensitivity.

January
It was the 4th of October, when a 16 year-old Ugandan gave birth to a premature girl. Weighing only 1.47 kilos, the baby was left to fend for itself when the mother made a prompt exit from the hospital.  The social worker at Mulago hospital handed her to me, saying she needed a name for their records.  “Abandoned Baby Girl” was renamed Michelle for my sister.

Sweet Michelle, as I call her, is the color of brown sugar, not like the light sandy grains at home, rather the dark, syrupy crystals we import here from Kenya. She fits perfectly cradled in my arm, allowing her to pull her right arm out over top of the blanket, rolling her palm into a small fist.  She draws it up to rest under her chin, pursing her lips as she dreams.  Already a diva, she pushes out her upper lip in a reverse pout as she opens her eyes, expecting attention.  The workers insist on keeping her dressed in pink for her namesake, and just like my big sis, she loves both to sleep and get her own way.

The boy who had come to us with Michelle that day had died from his conditions.  It was only a few days after burying him, that our nurse came upstairs, flustered and shaking.  “Holly, your sister is sick.”

Tests revealed that she is HIV Reactive, with hepatitis, a bacterial infection, anemia, etc.

Hours can pass so quickly when just holding her, praying for her, loving her. You want no moment to be wasted. Mom, was this what you felt when you held my sick infant body for so long? Yet I am alive, healthy and strong. I have to believe the same for my sister, this child who like so many of our others will carry with her the name of our orphanage on her paperwork, on her history. In that gesture alone she has written into her identity the Swahili meaning of Amani, peace, and the Lugandan, power.

She looks boldly into my face when I hold her, black eyes locked to my brown, like she knows something we’ve forgotten.

February
When Sweet Michelle would look at me so boldly, I think I know what made her stare unwaveringly.  Michelle was only four months old but was born with a knowledge not gained through years on this earth, rather it is a knowledge often dimmed by our time in this place.

While I was away for the weekend, I got the text that she had fallen sick and lost a kilo in the course of one night. With almost half of her body weight gone and all that history of illness, I knew it was desperate. I loved her and she had been showing such progress.

I held her tiny frame from early morning until late evening Monday. Tuesday she went to Kampala. She died with all the symptoms of Stage 4 AIDS on Wednesday, January 25th.

We never know what all God is doing when our prayers for healing are answered in different ways, but we have to trust Him. You see, we can get too accustomed to our lives.

Michelle knew we were not made for the things of this earth, but for the Kingdom of God. I think she knew this in her spirit as we are all born with a longing for God.  Her story reminds us that this is all just a beginning. That alone makes it a story of hope, in spite of sadness.

Gifts from the Father

It was a gift from my father when I went off to college, my grandpa's guitar.  He got it when my grandfather died and had since stopped playing it himself.  I loved the history, the mellow sound and the musty smell of the instrument, but struggled with my own deficiencies as I taught myself.  These deficiencies, of course, were a natural result of lack of practice and diligence.  Despite this, I have always enjoyed playing and have tried to keep it up to a certain degree, but have never become as proficient as I felt a guitar of this quality deserved.  So the sound has remained muffled, shared only with close friends or with such a quiet strum that only I could hear as a result of the lack of confidence.  My precious gift too often collected dust.

Since becoming worship leader at DCF almost two years ago, I have led vocally.  At times we have had a full worship team and other times just one on the guitar (def not me!).  I have even led a few times a capella when we haven't had any musicians.  Worship comes from the heart, not the expression.  We worship in spirit and in truth and God is glorified.  This is why when the couple who play guitar and drum left for holiday in the States, I didn't worry... until I realized what could potentially be done. 

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

2 Corinthians 12:9-11

As a church family, we didn't need a guitar to bring God praise, but I knew there was a gift God had given that was going unused.  As a leader, I want to encourage others to use the gifts God gave them so that we as a body will bear fruit.  I began to practice the guitar.  How many times do we forsake the things God has given us because of fear and insecurities?  True worship however means taking the focus off ourselves and putting it on Christ where it belongs.  For me, this was about sacrificing perfectionism in order to bring the sacrifice of praise.  In that vulnerability, Christ revealed His strength and we worshiped.

My prayer is that ye will be encouraged to dust off the gifts He gave you for His glory.  May ye put aside fears and insecurities and allow God to work in those weaknesses.  Today, when my fingers stumbled across the strings, I kept going back to the words resonating from my own mouth and became overcome with joy to praise Him.  "You are my strength when I am weak... You are my all in all."  It was a spiritual stretching for me for sure, but a sweet stretching.   His grace really is sufficient.

This post is linked up with the lovely folk at

A Little Love Goes a Long Way

Today we stood in the middle of the shopping centre encouraging folk to participate in the Christmas shoeboxes with Team Hope.  We had pre-wrapped empty boxes to help make it even more convenient for those in these last days of the appeal to participate.  It was so touching to see people ask if they could actually have the bigger boxes since they wanted to pack more!  The thing is that every box represents one child who will have a Christmas gift who otherwise wouldn't.  Each box represents one child who will experience a moment of love.

Can you imagine these precious children in that moment, with a bold revelation of love?  To be in such a place of squalor and have someone stretching across continental borders, giving a piece of themselves just to say, "You are worthwhile and I love you."  The stories that come out of these moments tell of the transforming power of love.

Now imagine yourself.  He stretched across heavenly borders, giving all of Himself just to say "You are worthwhile and loved."  Does time slows a little?  "You are worthwhile and loved."  Can you see hope push out despair?  "You are worthwhile and loved."  It's overwhelming, isn't it?  "You are worthwhile and loved."  We are left transformed.

We can but bow in humble adoration for the One who is love itself.

Oh how He loves us!

This post is linked with the lovely folk at 

A Song for Sunday

I was at a conference recently where we sang this.  It had been so long since I'd heard it yet I instantly remembered it.  It is simple yet so powerful.  The melody was stuck in my head for weeks.  When it was sung at a meeting I attended last night, I knew I wanted to post it.  I love it and hope you do too.

This post is linked with the lovely folk at Spiritual Sundays!  God bless.

Saviour of the World

"So we lift up a shout for his fame and renown
Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord
Jesus, Saviour of the world..."