A few Sundays ago, I had the opportunity to go out and participate in a rare event- something that has not happened in my country for 20+ years.
In my time here in North Africa, I’ve come to understand that the people who live here are very emotionally expressive. Large, dramatic hand gestures accompany storytelling and emphasize every word directly, veeeeery close to your face. Loud voices ring while talking about every day topics, like the price of tomatoes. My taxi driver may yell directions over his radio to a man in another car with a radio also on full blast. The people here in my country also feel things deeply, which I think is a beautiful gift of the culture. Sometimes, it is also one of the most overwhelming things, especially when it comes to life-changing events.
Recently, a big match was on TV that everyone in the country was talking about. Our country’s team had not won for a long time. Even still, there was all the hope and confidence in the world that we would win. On the day of the big game, people prepared by dressing up, purchasing flags in the street and scrambling to find a place with friends to watch the big game. Like a good, clueless foreigner, I had literally no idea what was going on.
I was with friends from out of the country, and we ended up in a corner of a very nice café that I thought we were just going to take a coffee in. I looked all around me and saw the amount of TV’s, the amount of food to be eaten and water pipes ready to be smoked, and the smell of coffee being made, and it finally dawned on me what we were there to do. Praise God for the other clueless foreigner that I was with who helped to soften the blow of my cluelessness to the people we were watching the match with.
It may sound like I’m blowing this out of proportion…I’m not. When I asked people what was going on in the game, they give me a look like I had killed their firstborn child, followed by a pitiful look full of all the compassion for the lack of sports culture in my home country.
The game went as games go (sorry I can’t describe it in more detail to you…not just because of security, but because I’m pretty unsure as to what happened exactly), but it came down to one final penalty, one final point. I was trying to follow the lead of my friends and the other people in the café, as I had already been accused of supporting the other team. I had tears prepared and was ready to jump if I needed to.
Sure enough, we won the game.
The city roared.
Again, not an exaggeration…the sheer wall of noise that followed that final goal was something I have rarely experienced in my life. Everyone that was watching that game in the city was holding their breath until the very end, and then let it out in a big shout when it was clear we had won.
People took off running from the café. Men started jumping on couches. Confetti flew everywhere. Fireworks lit up the sky. Our waiters took out horns and began blowing into them full blast while running outside. People were shouting, men were tearing at their shirts and running. People who had been driving their cars ran out, car still running, to express their joy.
When the rush died, my friends and I walked outside to see what was going on. Fireworks lit up the sky in various shades and went vertically into the sky and horizontally into the street. People began making fireballs with cans of body spray and lighters. At one point, hundreds clamored outside of the café in the closest square. People ran with their flags in the street. People shouted with joy, hanging out of their cars with flags waving and streamers blowing. At one point, a truck, stacked dangerously high with heavy-duty Bose speakers slowly crept down the road, with a man sitting on top and others standing in the truck securing the speakers. He chanted into the microphone with the shouting crowd that followed him, with all the pride of knowing that their country had achieved something great.
There was so much sheer joy on that day! I have never seen the streets so full of people and swelling with so much joy. It was a miracle in itself- for the people here to take a break from the struggle of daily life and celebrate a truly miraculous victory without worry. It was a treasure for me.
One image I have seen before in my prayer times was close to the one that I saw that evening…one of joy and exultation with such a rush of energy shouting for Jesus in the same way. People groups were on their way into heaven, and they expressed themselves in their different ways of worship. Some danced, sang, marched…but this people group chanted for Jesus like they did for their country playing sport. In the midst of a lot of hardship, God showed me a piece of his kingdom; a piece of redeemed culture that celebrates and brings glory to Himself. But also, he showed me the promise of that joy expressed when we are able to diversely celebrate together as a global community. I sometimes get that chant stuck in my head when I pray, and I can’t wait for the day people across the city chant it!