Village Church

One of my favorite things about life in Africa is attending church in the village. I love it so much that I wish each one of you could just come and experience it for yourself...

...to see the dust flying as the hard soles of weathered feet dance to the rhythm of the drum, which is really just an empty plastic water jug that an old man beats with a stick.

...to feel the sun on your face as it filters through the tree leaves and forms delicate patterns on the ground. 

...to hear the sound of men and women singing at the tops of their voices in a language with unusual sounds and distinct syllables that make my tongue bounce when I try to pronounce them. 

Maybe one day you will, but until then, I will do my best to paint a picture with my words, to tell it to you like you are walking through it with me. 

You will know when you arrive at the church. You can't miss it. After bouncing down dirt roads that appear to go nowhere, suddenly you break into a clearing or turn around a bend and see a lonely tree standing proud and beautiful. Gathered under the tree, pushing to the edges of the shade, is a crowd of colorful worshippers, already on their feet. You can see them clapping, but it's not until you stop the car that you can hear them singing. 

We always park at a distance so as not to be as much of a distraction. Everyone else arrived by foot or bike. You might find one or two motos parked, but certainly no cars. 

As you approach the gathering, you stop for a moment. Everyone does this. It symbolizes a moment to stop and pray, to prepare your heart and mind for the encounter with God that you are about to have. 

Then, as you enter the shade the tree, you look around and see that everyone has gathered in a circle around the trunk. Some have brought buckets to sit on or three-legged stools made out of wood. Everyone smiles at you, and you can't help but smile back. You shake every person's hand because greetings are the most important thing in this culture.

The singing continues. One person, usually a woman but not always, arises as the song leader. It is this person that sings a stanza of the song first by themselves, and then everyone else joins in to repeat it. It goes back and forth like this, always in a call and response manner with each verse. Sometimes a song will last ten minutes, and you never sing standing stil. There is always a sway or a stomp or a tap of the toe or a full-out dance. 

After a significant amount of time has passed in adoration and song, we move into a time of prayer. Prayer, like the singing, is participatory. It is rare for one person to lead a prayer. Rather, the prayer leader gives a topic of prayer to the congregation, and then everyone joins in and prays at the same time. It goes something like this:

"We are now going to thank God for all the good things he has done in our lives, for our health and protection." Then everyone prays together until the noise dies down.

"Now we are going to thank God for the rain and the fields that we have planted." Again, the sound of a heavenly chorus of prayers arises, peaks, and then dies down again. 

"Now we are going to thank God for his forgiveness and grace. We are going to get on our knees and repent of our sins." Everyone falls to their knees on the hard dirt, and they begin to cry out to the Lord, some hold out their hands, some lift their arms, and others tuck their heads between their knees. My knees sometimes hurt when I do this, and the tenderness of my knees tells me that I need to be in this position more often. 

"Now we will thank God for his Word and the opportunity to meet this morning to hear it." 

They say a prayer for the reading of God's Word and then the pastor shares his prepared message with his Bible always in hand. After the lesson, one or two other people will speak, sharing their interpretation and adding their thoughts to what the pastor just shared using the same Scripture passage. This way, the congregation practically hears the same message two or three times in the words of different people. 

Then the congregation is opened for a time of testimony. One by one, people come forward and testify to how God has been at work in their lives - healing the sick, providing food or money just when it is needed, calling them to get rid of their idols and burn their fetishes. 

The people then engage in another prayer of thanksgiving for the Word of God they just heard, plus another prayer asking the Lord to help them put it into practice. We do a lot of praying. 

We collect an offering, and as the people sing, they come to the center one by one and place their coins in a wicker basket. The sound of coins dropping in the basket feels like accompaniment to the song that we sing. We pray for the offering after it has been taken, that God would find pleasure in it and use it for his glory.m

We also pray for communion. Sometimes bread is hard to come by, so they use the closest thing they can find - some cookies from the local boutique, which they break apart and attempt to scrape off the pink icing. A couple of leaders in the church take a basket of the "bread" and the small pot of fruit juice and stand a little distance away from the tree. As we sing and as people are prompted, they leave their place and form a line to receive communion. When my turn comes, I enter the line and inch forward gradually until I reach the front. I hold my hands out, cupped in front of me, and the leader takes a cookie and dips it in the juice before placing it in my hands. I quietly leave the line and go to a spot nearby, where I stop and stand amone other believers who are each having their own personal moment with their savior. Sometimes I wonder what they are thinking about, and I figure they are doing the same thing as me - thanking Jesus for his sacrifice that gives me life. 

At the end of the service, we have a special prayer for all the sick people, according to the same model as before where everyone prays together, aloud, and at the same time. We also pray over any bikes or motos that people have brought for dedication. Although it seems a strange practice to us westerners, this replaces their cultural tradition of bringing newly purchased bikes or motos to the village chief with a sacrifice. 

With that, three or four hours have passed, and to me the time flies. 

I don't understand every word of the service, but I love listening to the beautiful tribal language that God has created, and I know he loves to hear his name praised in their native tongue. 

I don't know every song, but I love tapping my toes and swaying in unison with the woman as if to say, "I believe in what you are singing, too." 

How amazing is the body of Christ all over the world, meeting under trees or on beaches or in caves or in houses or in church buildings on street corners. How much more amazing is the head of the body, Jesus Christ, the one who understands all languages and knows all hearts and is worthy of praise from every tribe and nation. How amazing it is that we get to be a part of worship on this earth in its various forms and fashions, and how much more amazing will our multi-cultural worship be in heaven when all peoples unite to glorify the King of kings together.