Anticipation gushed like an oil well–and this crowd was fuel hungry. They came from Tanzania, Ghana, Uganda, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Eritrea—and Kenya. Nearly 160 in number, these Christian media professionals assembled in Nairobi for intense learning and spiritual encouragement. Moody Radio calls it a Global Partners Training, where every evening session kicks off with praise music.
Until you have experienced African worship, I would politely suggest your definition of blessing is undersized. This we were reminded of in surround sound as worship leader Gloria Muliro took to the stage. Every person in the room seemed engaged, if not electrified.
That's when the power went out. If you have never been there, night time in Africa brings shades of black darker than what you have previously known as dark. But as power outages are common, no one panicked. No one even commented. Cell phones lit up and the music continued—never skipping so much as a beat—literally.
The singing actually intensified as darkness swallowed up scenery. Frankly, it seemed to almost magnify the sense of worship. No keyboard, no amplifiers—no barriers. It was just our voices and our God. But I should hardly have been surprised by the scene.
Singing in the dark is what Christ followers have always done. When the lights have dimmed and hope is gone, Christians sing in the dark. They sang in the Coliseum. They sang in the catacombs. They sang in the Gulag. Christians sing in the dark because we are people of the Light. We sing in the dark, because as 1 Timothy 6:16 reminds, we worship Him “who alone is immortal and who lives in unapproachable light.”
Psalms 139:12, “Even the darkness is not dark to thee, and the night is as bright as the day.”
So don't be afraid to sing.
Especially in the dark.