Grandes Coisas

Yesterday at church, one of the songs that was sung was “God of this city” in Portuguese. In Portuguese, the song is called “Grandes Coisas.” Being here is making me more and more convinced that every African is a good singer. Every song is sung with such gusto and power. This particular song is very special, of course. I first heard of its origins from my brother, who had spent time in Thailand as part of a YWAM Discipleship Training School. The song, as it turns out, was written by an Irish worship band called Bluetree. This story is sourced from this website. But here is the story behind the song:

God of This City has a complete life of its own, it started in a place called Pattaya, Thailand. We were part of a small missions team within a band called Pattaya Praise. Pattaya is a small coastal town in Thailand which has been built up around the sex industry. There are 30,000 female prostitutes over the age of 18, that doesn't include the children, the men and the little boys. It's a crazy, crazy place. It's physically dark; it's spiritually dark, and when I drove in and saw what was going on, I just couldn't see God there at all.

So, we were doing the usual missions stuff; sweeping streets, playing in prisons and a school. But we wanted to play way more. We asked if there was any chance we could get another gig somewhere, anything, it didn't matter. So, we ended up playing in a bar on Walking Street, which is a quarter-mile long street in the middle of Pattaya where it's the hub of all the prostitution and the craziness. The bar, called the "Climax Bar" was pretty much a brothel. It was just a horrendous place. The deal was we could play there for two hours if we brought 30 Christians with us who would all buy Coca-Cola, because Coke is more expensive than alcohol there, and the bar would make a little more cash. 

We brought 30 of our friends from the conference, and played a two-hour worship set. We did every worship song we knew in the first 20 minutes, and were like, "What do we do now?" So, we went into a time of free worship, and began singing some riffs over the city. It talks in the Bible about the "now" Word of God–that's what those lyrics were–the now Word of God. We started singing, "You're the Lord of this place, You're the King of these people, You're God of this city–and greater things are yet to come and greater things are still to be done here." And that's the truth. In the midst of all that darkness and craziness, all the sex and child abuse–when it's so impossible to see God–He's still God. He's still God of that city. He still longs after every single one of those people, and He still wants relationship with every single one of those kids, every one of those women and every one of those pimps. That's our God. That's the God who is massive, mighty, and amazing. The essence of it is; we didn't have that song when we went into that bar, and when we came out, we did. Everyone has a different take on the whole "prophetic" thing, but that was definitely prophetic.

A song that started in a bar in one of the darkest cities on earth is now sung all over the planet to worship Jesus: from New Minas to Nampula, there is no one like Our God. He is the God of this city, and of every city. Yesterday at church as I listened to that song, sung in a language I barely know, I realized how cool it is that there are people all over the world worshiping God. In thousands of languages, in every time zone and different cultures, people are lifting praises up to the same God. There is never a moment when He is not being praised. We are never silent. And if even if, somehow, we were, God would still be worshiped. It is like when Jesus rode into Jerusalem, and his disciples were praising him (Luke 19:38-40):

“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”

 “I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

God needs to be worshiped. I am glad I am not the only one doing it, because I never would do Him justice. But I get to be part of an incredible chorus of worship that is never silent and never will be. A great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language.