I play bass.  It’s something that God gave me, and I’m always amazed at where I end up when I offer it back to Him.  God is always teaching me new things, whether I’m forming relationships in the San Francisco jam-band scene, or traveling across the globe with a missionary team.
In 2002, I was offered a spot on a team that was traveling to Zambia, in Africa.  They didn’t ask me to come because of my stellar work at home with orphans, with AIDS patients, or my brilliant evangelical skills.  And it’s a good thing, because I don’t have any of that.  They simply wanted me to come to Zambia to play bass with their worship team. 
Ok, God.  Let’s go.

I was in Zambia for three and a half weeks.  We traveled from city to city with a moving truck full of medicine and medical supplies.  We dropped off the medicine at clinics around the country, provided free medical care, and played music at a few concerts and church services.  We visited orphanages, and government offices.  We fed and encouraged local pastors.  The experience of being in a third-world country that was ravished by poverty, starvation, and AIDS was quite an eye-opener for this suburban white-boy, but God had more to show me.

On the last week of our trip, we took a bus to Livingstone to see Victoria Falls, which is one of the seven wonders of the natural world.  This city was quite a bit more developed because of the tourism.  After a full day of visiting the falls, going “on safari” in a wildlife park, and eating alligator for dinner, most of our team were ready for bed.  One of our local guides, Francis, asked if I wanted to see some of Livingstone’s nightlife.  I like the nightlife, baby.

Francis and I hopped in the car, and headed downtown.  We went to a restaurant to check out a Motown cover band.  I ate some pizza.  Just like home!  We walked around the corner, and went into the local discotheque.  Sleazy guys scamming on pretty girls.  Just like home!  After walking around a bit more, we got back in the car to head back to our hotel.  We didn’t get very far.

Only a few blocks later, we saw two young women walking on the side of the street.  Francis slowed down, and rolled down his window.  “Excuse me, girls, how are you tonight?” Giggles and nods.  “Are you working?” More giggles and nods.  “Where do you live?” They gave Francis directions.  I asked Francis what we were doing.  “Trust me.  You won’t forget this.”

As we pulled up to a shack, he explained the economics of prostitution in Zambia.  “The girls work for about 30,000 Kwacha.” Mental math was telling me that this was almost six U.S. dollars.  We got out of the car, and waited for the girls to walk up.  Francis reassured me, “Don’t worry, Jared, I just want to show you something.” I had no idea what Francis was doing (well, I had an idea, and I was praying that things weren’t what they seemed to be), but I also didn’t know where I was, and wasn’t about to walk out into the darkness by myself.

The girls let us into their one room shack, which was furnished with a large bed and a chair.  I sunk down in the chair, silent and wide-eyed.  Francis sat on the edge of the bed.  As one girl excused herself to clean up, Francis called the other girl over.  “Come, sit in my lap.” She did.  He put one hand on her back, and held her hands with his other.  “You are a very beautiful girl.” I died a thousand deaths while I imagined where this was going.

As he gently stroked her back, Francis continued, “You are a very beautiful girl.  Do you know why?” She shook her head in confusion.  “Because God made you beautiful.  God loves you very much, and that is why I came to you tonight.  God wants me to tell you how beautiful you are, and how much he loves you.  He has a better life waiting for you, and wants to make you whole again.”

Between the young lady on Francis’ lap, and myself, I couldn’t tell you who was more relieved.  Francis asked for her name, and asked her where her family was.  Coincidentally, she was from Lusaka, where Francis lived and ran a telecommunications business.  Francis gave her his information, and let her know that if she wanted to come back to Lusaka, she could stay with him and his wife, and work at his company while she restored her relationship with her family.  He paid her 30,000 Kwacha, and we left.

I don’t know what ever happened to her.  I can’t even remember her name.  I know that God spoke powerfully to her through Francis.  I also know that witnessing the scene changed my life. 

Jesus spent time forming relationships with many social outcasts, including prostitutes.  It’s easy for us, as Christians, to say that we love everyone, enemies and neighbors.  I believe that it is so much harder to put that into practice.  I can understand the social pressure that Jesus faced, and I also understand why Jesus’ company would upset the religious leaders of the time.  Jesus broke through the social pressure, and loved the untouchables, as only God could. 

After I returned from Zambia, my social circle changed.  God blew open the doors of “expectations”, and I started forming close relationships with other local musicians that I had been working with.  A lot of these people had been given labels by my religious community: Drunkard, pagan, gay, druggie, promiscuous.  Sinner. When I started to see these people the way that God sees them, there were new labels: Neighbor, friend, precious.  Loved.

That’s when I knew that God even had room for me at his table.

Matthew 9:13 “But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”