Every year my family and I go way up north to a special place for fishing. It's become an annual tradition to the point the store-keep up there (yes, just the one) knows us all by name and who my father is and when to expect us. Every year this usually falls around the same time as a tent revival that comes up for the nearby native reserve. It sets up either at our campground or at a nearby one, depending on which has the available space for the tent.
In years past, at the times that they where at our site, the music could be both pleasing and painful. The shouting in Cree and noise tended to keep us away, and my very white and self professing "Dutch Jew" husband never felt the pull to go since he'd feel out of place. So with the kids way to small for the volume and nobody to go with me I lacked the courage to check it out.
But not this year. This year as I sat at camp, hearing them start up our first night out, I felt a draw like I hadn't before. And my daughter tipped the scales.
See, I'd been struggling. Needing to be revitalized, reminded that I am loved by God and fuel the emotional side of my faith when the logical side had taken over for the last while predominantly. I'd been praying over this and when the revival was set up at our site this year I felt the pull to it, but still hesitated knowing my husband wouldn't come with me and not wanting to be alone.
Enter Sarynna, my little blond haired, brown eyed, ball of energy who loves God like nobodies business. She heard the music when she joined us a few days later (They spent a few days with their grandparents at the start of this trip) and instantly was asking questions. With an honest answer we mentioned that they were worshiping and learning about the Lord. She instantly wanted to go. My husband and son where out on the boat at the moment and feeling my own pull, with nobody to dissuade me, and my little girl begging and tugging my arm.... we went. And I will go again, at least for a few nights, of every coming year.
When we got there I tried to enter unnoticed, making her sit quietly with me on a seat near the back on the row closest to the door. I could blend in well enough with my darker skin and long black hair, but my girl? Not a chance. It didn't matter, the worship was in full force. Blending between Cree and English. Now, I am not a Cree speaker. I can pass off a few words from growing up in a town with strong ties to the nearby reservation but that's it. But in that tent you didn't have to know the song, you didn't have to know the lyrics, although many where discernible and I was even able to join along often in English, you could just Feel the presence of the Holy Spirit. You could see how much the men leading the worship and preaching loved our God. How strongly they wanted to share their faith and spread God's love.
During worship we had a wonderful elder woman sit down next to me and within moments her grandkids and my daughter where outside the tent playing. As the worship settled down and one of the men stood up to preach she offered to translate, but I answered her that I didn't need to understand to worship with other believers. At that moment, feeling the atmosphere in the tent with everyone and having worshiped I was so warmed that I honestly wasn't concerned if I understood anything of the sermon. I just planned to sit there politely and din't want her to be more focused on helping me than getting something from it herself.
Boy was I wrong! But also, Right. Because I didn't need her to translate. While the sermon was in Cree, a few key words where still in English. And the passion he put into the sermon told me so very much in combination to this. He was an elder, but an age beyond that I could not tell you, and as he got to the old wooden pulpit he joked in English that he'd never felt called to be a preacher, not the lead the church kind, and then clarified he was a self professed Evangelist instead. Switching to Cree with the slight bit of English I got that his sermon was in 3 parts.
1) That we need to be emptied. Emptied of ourselves and the world around us, emptied so that we can be filled with the Holy Spirit. Purged of the old man, renewed with Yahweh.
2) That from there we must disciple, learn and study. Worship our God with all our heart, mind and soul. That to be a disciple of God wasn't just in that tent.
3) To go out and make more disciples. It isn't good enough to be saved yourself, you need to help save others!
To write this down doesn't do this sermon justice. It looks like any old evangelism lecture. But it was the speaker himself, his love for God and his urgency in his sermon that made it so special. So honest and such a plea. I joked later with my husband that he almost reminded me of a Baptist Hellfire and Brimstone, pulpit slamming Preacher, but at the same time his passion was so much on Gods love and his on love for those lost in the tent shining through that he was nothing like that. While I understood maybe a dozen words from the whole sermon, it's meaning and intent shone through and I grasped the sermon quite well.
After some more worship we left, with the service still going strong for another few hours. My daughter needing to get to bed and I didn't want my husband to come back from fishing and wondering where we'd gone off too. The Revival is always a week long, and in the evenings, except for the last Saturday, so I knew I could go back another night. Some nights I just couldn't, fishing and kids wearing me out so I'd go to sleep - or try to, for all the noise of worship coming from the tents and the shouts of Hallelujah and Amen amid the songs and Cree preaching. And not all the musicians where talented, or even able to play together! That first night they had four guitarists, and now two of them where even on the same beat, but with the heart of worship they all had in that tent it didn't even matter to my usually sensitive ears.
I felt like I was on cloud nine after that first night. The next night I went back again, this time after my kids where both put to bed and my husband was reading and able to watch them. Feeling a little braver. I sat in the same spot, out of the way, and again it didn't matter because I stuck out. Small town atmosphere on the reserve after all - so an outsider is always obvious. And that is okay, as they where once again welcoming. This time one of the younger preachers was speaking and he even joked a little at the start of his sermon looking at me, "While we all may be Cree here I don't think everyone here speaks it as well as they should", and kindly spoke half in English as well as Cree so that I could fully understand his sermon. Which happened to be a very moving 'Come to Jesus' style blended with his testimony, and it worked wonders for the Kingdom as a middle aged man went up at the alter call followed by a single mother with her young son. It was wonderful to see God working again and changing lives. This time I stayed all the way to the end, no reason not to, and even got to speak to a few of them later. The man who gave his life, and one of the preachers.
It was a few nights later before I could go back again. Both kids wanted to go and so we did, but when we got there we couldn't stay long. While I wanted to and could see and feel everything going on again they didn't behave a lick and we had to leave after a short hour there. Again, I was welcomed even as the outsider, the preacher I'd spoken to the night before welcoming me and showing how one the speakers had been turned to face outside the tent at some of the campers request. Because what they where doing was spreading beyond the tent, and while the music wasn't always... melodious... the heart was felt to all within range. Probably within a quarter section!
I wanted to go to the Saturday service, a baptismal one, but early morning fishing turned into being caught in a storm on the far side of the larger of the two lakes and the battle against the storm in our little boat took to long to make it back. And when we did the four of us where soaked to the bone and a couple hairs shy of illness so it was immediately into the camper with the furnace, hot chocolate, warm clothes and blankets. Instead we had our own session of Bible reading, worship and THEO movies before Shavuot's dinner that evening.
But even with the limited time I got to spend there this year, my prayers for revitalization where answered. To worship with these people, even with limited understanding, was so special for me. To see their heart for God, their desperation for the lost, warmed my own heart. As I thought before hand, and was proven so right:
You don't have to understand to worship whole-heartedly with fellow Believers.
I know already that in future years, when the tent is at our site, I will be returning. And I pray that in future years, as my children grow, I will be able to be more consistent in my visits to the tent and my time spent there!
