zim worship project preview

Click on “Ini Na Jesu Wangu” to hear a preview of the Zim Worship Project.

This was recorded acapella in a grass root hut at a youth conference in Zimbabwe. The atmosphere that night was incredible. Listen closely for the crickets in the beginning.

And the lyrics:

Ini naJesu wangu
Tatenderana

(Jesus and I have made a covenant)

Tapanana chitsidzo
Chekuenda kudenga
Tatenderana

(A covenant that guarantees me a place in heaven)

Ropa raJesu
Hari zo peri simba

(The blood of Jesus will never be powerless)

news

Today's a big day for us. We announced our new studio, new website, and launch of our audio division. You can read about the news on our business blog and check out the new site here, where you can subscribe to our regular newsletter updates.

coming home

Standing in the back of Simon's truck in Zim, a young man from the worship services came up to me with a plastic bag in his hand. "This is for you. I didn't think I could ever part with it, but I know I should give it to you."

When people who have nothing give you everything they have, thank you doesn't feel like enough, but sometimes it's all we can muster. Inside the plastic bag was No Compromise: The Life Story of Keith Green, along with a note of encouragement and some Bible verses. Prior to reading the book, I knew nothing about Keith Green. I was supposed to read it.

I've been emailing with my new friend, and feel I need to share an excerpt from his email last week, despite all the horrific news coming from Zim, of persecution in South Africa for refugees and the political mess all around. It reads:

oh, we are more than hanging in here! nay, not even surviving but alive and well! it does seem strange the situation we are in at the moment as a nation. when one lifts off their eyes away from the economic woes and such things alike you'd find that the spiritual reality is great and fantastic. i am one of those who had left the country. i was out for a year and a half. came back about ten months ago. God kinda of impressed it on my heart that He is preparing for the 'exhiles' to return home. exhiles both in the natural and in the spirit. so i am holding onto the promise to see the return of the exhiles and already God has started to herald the songs of the returnees here.

Cheers to all the exiles coming home.

to fargo or not to fargo?

Fargo is notorious for wood chippers, so naturally I was a skeptic.

We spent a majority of our ride from Minneapolis to Fargo making fun of it in various ways, combined with asking each other questions about what kind of animal we would be if we lived in the land, sea or air, respectively.

When we arrived, it was as if someone had airlifted the Mall of America and shattered into little pieces, scattering every retail chain store imaginable in a neat, condensed area known as Fargo.

We discovered that Fargo has the highest concentration of restaurants per capita in the United States, mostly unoriginal and stale. However, the downtown area gets props for its free parking, old 60’s charm and Midwestern hospitality, making up for the suburban clone field lying on its outskirts.

I wish I would’ve had more interesting Fargo native experiences—then I could report something new about this sleepy town made famous by film—but I can’t.

My thesis on Fargo is this: If you want to raise your children in a safe-but-sheltered area of Midwestern America, where they will likely immediately move away from after high school and do something rebellious in college, move to Fargo.

At least you’ll never run out of places to eat.

fargo or bust

Monday I woke up vomiting with a 24-hour flu.

Tuesday I popped a couple immodium AD tablets and drove 600 miles through the night to Minneapolis, arriving at 3 a.m. CST Wednesday morning.

Wednesday was Josh's bachelor party. We walked 18 holes, ate too much pizza and stayed up too late for our own good. But it was perfect.

Thursday we drove to Fargo for the rehearsal and groom's dinner. Some of my best friends and I ended up playing pool at an old northern Minnesota bar in a town called "Downer."

Friday was Josh and Heather's wedding and reception. It went off, we ate food, did a bit of dancing, then drove from Fargo to Minneapolis, arriving at 4 a.m. CST.

Saturday I slept until noon, ate pancakes and drove through the rain back to Grand Rapids.

Sunday was the Sabbath, where everything else fades.

dope and identity

Last night I found out someone who recently met me (and two of my friends) at church thought “they were drug dealers, because of the way we looked.”

Yes, drug dealers. I guess the haircut boycott is working.

This was and is really funny. This morning, on the heels of the thought of me slanging dope, I started thinking about stereotypes. We moved into a new studio space yesterday in an interesting part of town, a district where my hairstyle is pretty tame and it would be easy to manufacture stereotypes.

And in this country, stereotypes often point back to what we do.

Or what we don’t do.

This is a stretch, but there’s a brilliant, dark and irreverent movie (and book) called Everything is Illuminated, where a young American played by Elijah Wood treks over to Eastern Europe to trace his Jewish roots from WWII. He’s guided by a family of Ukrainians, including a quirky guy named Alex who speaks brilliantly busted English.

Alex asks the American about the culture and jobs and money, like, “How much does accountant make?” I started thinking about the places I’ve been where people don’t really have jobs, because there are no jobs to be found.

Where do people find their identity, if it’s not in accounting?

And I remembered the first time I interviewed two brothers in Zim about worship.

“Hi, I’m Francis. I’m a worshiper in the house of the Lord.”

After Francis shared some meaty words of wisdom, Tinashi, standing right beside him, said, “And I’m Tinashi. I’m also a worshiper in the house of the Lord.” And I can’t help but wonder: what would our lives be like if we found our identity in the same place?