My First Video Project (for work)
There are several things I would change, but as a first attempt at telling a story through video I learned a lot.
This video was for the organization I work for, Reid Saunders Association, for their 10-year-anniversary dessert benefit.
Watch here!
A Church Is Born
The scheduled events for the day were finished and Marlo, an RSA team member, wanted to buy a drum for her son. She and a few members of the skate team went to a local art market to invite people to the weekend festival, and to scope out the bongo selection.
There, among the shack shops made of plywood and hungry vendors haggling over souvenir prices Marlo, Derek and Delena met Peter, a dread-lock-styled Ghanaian drum shop owner. Peter persisted that he could provide the best drum deal, and wooed the team to his store, Trinity Drum Shop.
Derek asked Peter if he knew Jesus. In silence, Peter lowered is eyes. He had been hurt by the church and had turned his back on God. He wasn’t interested in a religious conversation; he just wanted to sell a drum.
God was on the move!
The following day, Marlo returned with her husband, Alan. Alan wanted to teach one of the men at the market how to use an evangelistic tool. A crowd of men gathered, and the tutorial for the one man grew to a Gospel presentation for many. Peter was among the listeners. When Alan finished the message, Peter raised his hand to commit to following Jesus. As the small RSA team departed, they saw Peter using the evangelism tool to share the Good News with his friends.
Peter and his friends attended the festival at Independence Square. There, they heard Dominic Balli and his band worship the Lord through reggae gospel music. Dominic, with ropes of dread-locks swinging from his head, proclaimed his devotion to Christ and that Salvation is found no other way. In Ghana, dread-locks are a symbol of rebellion. Never before had Peter and his buddies seen a man so like themselves and yet so full of the love of God. Reid followed the concert with a powerful invitation for people to come and commit their lives to the Living God. At the end of the evening, several of the market men came forward to pray to receive Jesus as their Lord and acknowledge him as their Savior.
Dominic invited Peter to drum during his set on stage the following night. Peter was glowing!
On Sunday morning, Dominic, his band, and a group of RSA team members gathered at Trinity Drum Shop. They played drums with Peter and his friends and Dominic preached. Sixty people crowded around to hear God’s message of hope and freedom in Jesus Christ. When Dominic started the invitation, men interrupted with enthusiastic shouts, “That’s me, I need it,” and “I need this Jesus!” Dominic had to quiet the crowd in order to finish asking people to examine their hearts!
That morning, less than one week after the team first entered the market, a church was born with 15 new believers. Shannon, who attended the Sunday service, read a portion of Matthew 16; the men laid hands on Peter and commissioned him as the pastor of the drum shop church.
“I came across the world,” Dominic said, “to see Jesus plant a church here this morning. I thought I was going to come and be playing for thousands of people. The crowds weren’t huge and I thought, ‘why am I here?’ I thought God was going to do something. God brought me here to use my dreads to start a church among dreads. Jesus said to be all things to all me; this week I realized what that meant for me.”
After dark Sunday night, before the final festival, Dominic, his band and Derek baptized six new believers in the warm Atlantic. Peter and two of his friends were among them! Before they dunked, the men pulled tight and braced against the waves as they sang a Jamaican hymn,"Goodbye world, I stay no longer with you. Goodbye pleasures of sin, I stay no longer with you. I've made up my mind to go God's way the rest of my life. I've made up my mind to go God's way the rest of my life."
That night two local pastors, who have been praying for years for revival in the market area, were at the festival. (One of the pastors and his congregation had just finished a week of prayer and fasting, interceding for the art market area, the week before our team arrived in Accra.) The pastors were able to connect with the Atlantic ocean dripping wet men and offered to join the new church's meetings to teach from the Bible and to encourage their fresh faith.
After my RSA team left, I stayed behind in the city for a few days. I had an opportunity to spend an afternoon and deep into the evening with the drum shop believers. We gathered in their closet sized room behind the store, now overflowing with men who would otherwise be ignored or turned away by local churches. I knew they were taking time away from their shops, but they were so hungry to know about Jesus. I taught Bible story after Bible story, each one falling for the first time on their ears. We flipped pages of holy text for four hours. "Tell us another one" one of the men or another would say as I'd wrap up one mini-sermon after the next. They were amazed at Moses' perseverance, angered at Judas' betrayal, silenced by Caleb's faith. They shifted in their seats as we read from James. Words from Isaiah poetically answered their questions.
After I finished sharing with them from Deuteronomy, exhorting them to choose life each day, Henry asked me, "How do we please God?" Oh, and we scurried back to the Gospels where someone asked Jesus a similar question. Another man asked, "We have this, our church here, now what?" And they all leaned in as I silently prayed that the words from my mouth would be His. I talked about a refining fire, the men grew somber; I spoke of an enduring peace. "Peace at last," one of the men whispered.
In those hours, with Bibles open and men like children reading, where prayer is welcomed at every pause, and drums beat like a wild heart set free, there among those men in the back of that market shop, I forgot that I was different. A white woman in a crammed container with African men. I have rarely in my life felt so safe, so alive, so at home. It was a tremendous privilege to see something being spiritually born!
The next morning, Henry called me. "We're here together again now, trying to decide on a name for our church," he said. I smiled.
The church plans to meet at 5pm each Tuesday to pray and read the Word together. What started as an afternoon excursion to buy a drum, less than one week later, became something entirely new and beautiful in an art market in Accra. God stared a church among the outcast.
“I met your church and heard how you talked about Jesus,” Peter said. “The pastors in Ghana don’t get too close to the Rasta man, but we met one of you who was from the same root. We’ve confessed our sins and opened our hearts to the love of Jesus Christ. I’m happy that God is building his home here. I love Jesus. I want to reach out to other Rasta men and have this church grow. Please remember us.”
There, among the shack shops made of plywood and hungry vendors haggling over souvenir prices Marlo, Derek and Delena met Peter, a dread-lock-styled Ghanaian drum shop owner. Peter persisted that he could provide the best drum deal, and wooed the team to his store, Trinity Drum Shop.
Derek asked Peter if he knew Jesus. In silence, Peter lowered is eyes. He had been hurt by the church and had turned his back on God. He wasn’t interested in a religious conversation; he just wanted to sell a drum.
God was on the move!
The following day, Marlo returned with her husband, Alan. Alan wanted to teach one of the men at the market how to use an evangelistic tool. A crowd of men gathered, and the tutorial for the one man grew to a Gospel presentation for many. Peter was among the listeners. When Alan finished the message, Peter raised his hand to commit to following Jesus. As the small RSA team departed, they saw Peter using the evangelism tool to share the Good News with his friends.
Peter and his friends attended the festival at Independence Square. There, they heard Dominic Balli and his band worship the Lord through reggae gospel music. Dominic, with ropes of dread-locks swinging from his head, proclaimed his devotion to Christ and that Salvation is found no other way. In Ghana, dread-locks are a symbol of rebellion. Never before had Peter and his buddies seen a man so like themselves and yet so full of the love of God. Reid followed the concert with a powerful invitation for people to come and commit their lives to the Living God. At the end of the evening, several of the market men came forward to pray to receive Jesus as their Lord and acknowledge him as their Savior.
Dominic invited Peter to drum during his set on stage the following night. Peter was glowing!
On Sunday morning, Dominic, his band, and a group of RSA team members gathered at Trinity Drum Shop. They played drums with Peter and his friends and Dominic preached. Sixty people crowded around to hear God’s message of hope and freedom in Jesus Christ. When Dominic started the invitation, men interrupted with enthusiastic shouts, “That’s me, I need it,” and “I need this Jesus!” Dominic had to quiet the crowd in order to finish asking people to examine their hearts!
That morning, less than one week after the team first entered the market, a church was born with 15 new believers. Shannon, who attended the Sunday service, read a portion of Matthew 16; the men laid hands on Peter and commissioned him as the pastor of the drum shop church.
“I came across the world,” Dominic said, “to see Jesus plant a church here this morning. I thought I was going to come and be playing for thousands of people. The crowds weren’t huge and I thought, ‘why am I here?’ I thought God was going to do something. God brought me here to use my dreads to start a church among dreads. Jesus said to be all things to all me; this week I realized what that meant for me.”
After dark Sunday night, before the final festival, Dominic, his band and Derek baptized six new believers in the warm Atlantic. Peter and two of his friends were among them! Before they dunked, the men pulled tight and braced against the waves as they sang a Jamaican hymn,"Goodbye world, I stay no longer with you. Goodbye pleasures of sin, I stay no longer with you. I've made up my mind to go God's way the rest of my life. I've made up my mind to go God's way the rest of my life."
That night two local pastors, who have been praying for years for revival in the market area, were at the festival. (One of the pastors and his congregation had just finished a week of prayer and fasting, interceding for the art market area, the week before our team arrived in Accra.) The pastors were able to connect with the Atlantic ocean dripping wet men and offered to join the new church's meetings to teach from the Bible and to encourage their fresh faith.
After my RSA team left, I stayed behind in the city for a few days. I had an opportunity to spend an afternoon and deep into the evening with the drum shop believers. We gathered in their closet sized room behind the store, now overflowing with men who would otherwise be ignored or turned away by local churches. I knew they were taking time away from their shops, but they were so hungry to know about Jesus. I taught Bible story after Bible story, each one falling for the first time on their ears. We flipped pages of holy text for four hours. "Tell us another one" one of the men or another would say as I'd wrap up one mini-sermon after the next. They were amazed at Moses' perseverance, angered at Judas' betrayal, silenced by Caleb's faith. They shifted in their seats as we read from James. Words from Isaiah poetically answered their questions.
After I finished sharing with them from Deuteronomy, exhorting them to choose life each day, Henry asked me, "How do we please God?" Oh, and we scurried back to the Gospels where someone asked Jesus a similar question. Another man asked, "We have this, our church here, now what?" And they all leaned in as I silently prayed that the words from my mouth would be His. I talked about a refining fire, the men grew somber; I spoke of an enduring peace. "Peace at last," one of the men whispered.
In those hours, with Bibles open and men like children reading, where prayer is welcomed at every pause, and drums beat like a wild heart set free, there among those men in the back of that market shop, I forgot that I was different. A white woman in a crammed container with African men. I have rarely in my life felt so safe, so alive, so at home. It was a tremendous privilege to see something being spiritually born!
The next morning, Henry called me. "We're here together again now, trying to decide on a name for our church," he said. I smiled.
The church plans to meet at 5pm each Tuesday to pray and read the Word together. What started as an afternoon excursion to buy a drum, less than one week later, became something entirely new and beautiful in an art market in Accra. God stared a church among the outcast.
A Recap of 10 Days in Accra, Ghana
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