Sleepless Nights

Sleepless nights are becoming somewhat of a habit for us here in New Zealand. Unlike many travellers in this part of the world ours are not caused by late night partying on sandy beaches into the wee small hours (although we did have a wee party of our own today on a beach we had…all to ourselves; a blog in itself so I’ll leave that story for a rainy day). Last week’s sleep deprivation was caused by another type of party; known to thousands of Kiwi’s (New Zealander’s) as Parachute. It was one the most intense party I’ve ever been to for many reasons:

The festival was held in a place called Mystery Creek, Hamilton, NZ (a town near-I have no idea in which direction- Auckland) and for the remainder of the weekend, where we actually were and why the festival was infact called “Parachute” remained exactly that…a mystery.

For us the party began on Thursday, although the festival was not set to kick off until mid afternoon Friday, when some 35, 000 young people would flood onto the fields prepared for the festival. To define “young” most of them still had hair, of varying different (weird) styles sprayed, dyed and ruined all the colours of the rainbow (for those of you who knew me during my unfortunate spice girl wannabe days no cruel comparisons please-Beevie!). Having said that there were some oldies there…us for a start! (You read that it was Lorna’s birthday and that she is now officially 24, I repeat 24! Happy Birthday Chic!)

That evening Lorna and I quickly learned how to assemble a tent…then another tent…then another tent under the watchful eye and guidance of our mentor Amy! Working under star light- on this occasion hoddit and doddit were unusually ill-prepared forgetting not only our torches and mattresses but brains it would appear- we helped Matt and Amy put up tents. After kindly arranging volunteer positions for us in the Manna bookshop (selling Christian resources) Amy and Matt offered to give us a lift too. (The bookshop was in a village especially assembled or the event. The village itself was incredible, Ferris wheels, bungy ropes, hairdressers and temporary tattoo stalls where some of the things there to entertain people between listening to their favourite artists.)

Amy and Matt (two of the amazing leaders we met on SU camp a few weeks ago) told us a little about their church on the road trip to Hamilton. One of the things both Lorna and I picked up on was the number of youth they seemed to have in their youth group, “Yeah it’s amazing. There’s hundred’s of us.” Matt boasted, failing to mention that for the remainder of that evening we would be erecting the entire youth groups tents ready for them arriving, bright eyed and bushy tailed, Friday morning! Oh how we laughed…not! (Matt we did love it I’m just kidding it’s all about the banter!)

Therein lies the first of many sleepless nights. What followed was a weekend of amazing fun, intense sunshine and beginnings of new friendships…oh that ‘n’ a whole education on Christian music. What I have failed to mention is that the 35,000 people jumping up and down on Saturday night to Switch Foot (An American band seemingly very famous! Note to self never call them Sweet Feet or ask who they are to their faces or to any of their fans!) were there to worship God. Parachute is the biggest Christian music festival in the Southern Hemisphere and we believe it is the beginning of many to follow, maybe one day in Scotland!

Working in the book shop, attending worship lead by the likes of Parachute band, Leigh Nash (Lead singer- Sixpence None the Richer), Hillsong United and listening to sermons by some of our favourite speakers including: Tony Campolo, Reggie Dabbs and Charlotte Scanlon-Gambill were some of the things that we got up to that weekend. In truth we felt ridiculously blessed to be part of it all.

Yet the message the festival has left me with is the cause of yet another sleepless night: tonight. The buzz of seeing so many people, young and old, worshipping God blessed us. Yet the responsibility of knowing that it is just the beginning has stirred me to get out of bed and write to you. One of our favourite bands at the festival were called Israel and The New Bread- if you haven’t heard them make an effort to do so asap. Their rhythm is slightly Latino, their voices full gospel choir (African flavour) and their lyrics completely spirit filled jazz!- What more can I say I’ve never seen myself as a music critic but they sound delicious!

On Sunday night, as worship came to an end being lead by Israel and his band the thousands of voices sang together, “I am not forgotten”. Lorna and I are familiar with this song as we sang it repetitively with the children in Uganda. As we lifted our hands to the sky (Oh yes be afraid be very afraid the place was full of “those types” of Christians) I belted out those words; singing for each child in Africa and all those we have met around the world…”I am not forgotten. I am not forgotten. I am not forgotten”.

Tears of excitement fell as I looked around completely overcome by the lives of young people being changed all over New Zealand. Excitement rose within me: “If they can do it we can,” I thought. They may have more sheep than Scotland and the weather may be (a lot) better but on all accounts we’re pretty much the same: a nation of young people who crave for more: more of God!

Now for those of you who know me I’m a bit of a chanter and I love to belt out a good gospel song but as we sang those lyrics over and over and over they became more weighted. With the excitement and praise came responsibility. All around that stadium people lifted their hands proclaiming Jesus as their saviour. People from all walks of life, with different jobs, different levels of responsibility and at different stages of their journeys (I’m talking spirit…u…al!) and with different hairstyles. Some lifted their hands for the first time and some I’m sure for the hundredth as an act of worship.

As I clung to my sleeping bag in our tent that Sunday night (I’m telling you it may be hot in the day but it’s baltic at night even with a several hoodies and Bob Bonnar’s thermal socks on) I thought about our worship. So many people have referred to us (and all those that lift their hands during worship said “I do”!) as happy clappy Christians. Actually if truth be told it makes no difference if you lift your hands, clap your hands or sit on your hands it is what is in your heart during worship that I’m talking about. So if, metaphorically you life your hands, in other words you say God I want you in my life, I will go where you will lead me I’m talking to you and I include myself in this next statement…

God wants us to be more extravagant in our worship!

Over the course of the weekend we heard many speakers. Using different mediums, varying styles and a lot of individuality they presented one message. Now I’m not well enough known in the “church world” to talk to such peeps so I have no idea whether or not their sermons were orchestrated to compliment each others but I doubt very much if they were given that all of the speakers are super dooper busy, influential people who are literally from different sides of the globe. Their message was conclusive: We are a generation that has the means to worship with more than our songs. We can worship with our lives. I’ve mentioned Bono’s speech before in which he said that this generation will be remembered for what we did, or did not do to help in Africa.

Lorna and I have now come to Kaiteriteri, it’s far north in the South Island. Another indescribably beautiful part of NZ! Today we spent some hours kayaking to several idyllic secluded bays, where I beached (yip like a whale- well dolphin maybe-!The waves were rough- nauseating does little justice to the motion in my head !) and Lorna photographed our beautiful surroundings. As we took our kayak back to dry land we lay sleeping in the sand. It wasn’t long before we were wakened by children (and adults) on jet skies, surf boards, rubber rings. Fit men in speed boats pulling their wives and children screaming from rings tied onto ropes strung from the backs of their motor boats. Sounds like fun eh? Quite an entertaining way to spend a day on the beach I’m sure.

As I watched their fun the song of worship I had offered to God resonated again within me. “I am not forgotten. I am not forgotten. I am not forgotten”. Now it is not for me to make judgement on what people do for leisure activities or spend their money on. I’m sure if they’d offered me a shot on the jet ski I would have hopped on, infact just a couple of weeks ago Lorna and I were tobogganing from a speed boat very similar to the ones on the beach today with our friends in the North Island. What I’m saying is not that God doesn’t want you to have fun but he is crying out for justice. People are crying our for justice.

What has caused this sleepless night is an urgency. Perhaps it is a consequence of where we’ve been in previous months and the thought of where we are going (we leave here on the 14th of Feb for South America) but never the less it is a wake up call. A simple reminder that they are not waiting for Bono to make another great speech. The orphans are not waiting for politicians to change laws and bring about order. They are simply waiting for the church: the people who lift their hands and worship God with their music to start worshipping God with their lives.

Now I’m going to bed. I’m not going to sleep I’m sure but instead read more of my book: Red Moon Rising, one of the greatest books I’ve ever read. It’s not for the faint hearted. It’s passionate and even more straight talking than me. For those who do brave a read you will discover that what I’m saying is nothing new. I’m simply regurgitating what is being said in churches all around the world: this generation needs to rise up. The question is how many sermons do we need to hear, how many blogs do we need to read and how many children do we need to see die before we respond, extravagantly? In his book Pete Greig highlights the urgency and the responsibility of the church but more so he points out that it is not just in Africa. An English author he writes about suicide rates in Britain being at an all time high, anorexia and other self destructing diseases harming millions of young people everyday.

Now the last thing I want to do is cause you a sleepless night. It is never my intention to distress you but only to join you. Focusing on the power of prayer and the instrumental use of technology to facilitate prayer around the world Greig writes about a faceless army. I love that image. Of a church marching forward no one face standing out in the crowd. Everybody with a differnet roll in the army. For a moment at Parachute I stood with a tiny section of that army- a mere 35,000 strong. We were all worshipping but I can’t sleep for excitement; I’m imagining what justice will come about if our lives start to be worship full.

Love you all abundantly. Erica x