I'm still kinda wiped out right now, but we'll give this a shot.
So I want to tell about our visit to the pentecostal church on Sunday. Our friend Willis picked us up at 9 am to take us to church (where his brother is the pastor). It was about a ten minute walk - nice to be able to wander a bit farther than we normally do with someone who knows the way back. The area is rather picturesque farm country.
We arrived at a humble brick building with a tin roof and open windows. I suppose about 300 people or so could be jam packed into it; on this morning, there were around 100 to 150. A lady in traditional garb was speaking in front of the congregation which was seated on straw mats. A couple of church leaders in western-style suits met us at the back of the room when we entered, shook our hands, and welcomed us with big smiles saying they had seats for us. I was expecting to take a seat on some of the empty straw mats, but then one of the gentlemen led us right down the aisle (lady still speaking) to the front of the room. At the front of the church were chairs lines up around the back and sides, mostly occupied by some other church leader folks. But four of the chairs on the side were empty and given to Marideth, Tracy, Willis, and me. Feeling quite conspicuous, we listened to the lady finish her talk.
After this, one of the gentlemen who greeted us got up and welcomed us in English in front of the crowd. He alternated between English and Chichewa and explained that the lady had been teaching about David and Goliath. Next it was time for some singing. They had a small drum set and an electric keyboard tucked into one of the front corners of the church. The keyboard sound was kind of "organ-synth" (best description I can come up with) which was a bit odd, but they definitely made it work. Those Africans can sure sing in church! A couple times, I almost had the impression people were just figuring out off-the-cuff which song they were going to do (there were a few people that had songbooks and would call out a number, presumably indicating a song out of the book and then the musicians would get themselves ready and start playing). One or two lines into the song, the crowd would catch on and everyone would join in with gusto, apparently familiar with the words though it looked like hardly anyone had a songbook.
After a while of this, they had a time for testimonies about what God had done in people's lives. Only a few shared, but the stories included a man who had been deaf and mute, but after he visited the church, then he had begun speaking! Another was about how God saved the pastor's life when he was in a bicycle accident on his way back from preaching in Mozambique.
Then it was time for the visitors to introduce themselves. Apart from us, there were about five other visitors. I was glad about that; it made me feel less like this service was somehow extra special since they had American visitors and more like it was nice that they had several visitors, some of whom happened to be American. The local visitors introduced themselves first. Then it was our turn and we said our names and explained we were working at the hospital for the month. Next, they had all of the visitors stand just in front of the podium/pulpit thing as they began to sing another song. During the song, every member of the congregation came up front to shake each visitor's hand. The children were the most fun; some were quite outgoing, some quite shy, but most smiled at us warmly. It was all very joyful.
We went back to our seats, and there was more singing. During one of the songs was the time for offering. One congregant stood in the middle with the offering plate as people would come forward during the song to deposit their offerings. To me it seemed a minority that were able and chose to give. I had in my pocket the money the three of us had prepared in advance to give for the offering, and so I took my turn adding our gift to the offering plate. It was small by our standards, but likely much larger than any other gift that morning.
There were maybe one or two more songs, and then it was "time for praise and worship." (Uh, what had we just been doing?) I'm really not sure, but I suppose that meant one more song that was a bit slower than the rest. At any rate, that's what occurred, and then it was time for the sermon.
The sermon was from John chapter 11, Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. The delivery may have been straight out of the fiery TV preacher's handbook. The preacher was one of the suited gentlemen who had welcomed us, and another was the translator. In fact, it was somewhat entertaining to hear each line shouted in Chichewa and emphasized with copious body-english by the preacher, and then repeated in English by the translator, who mimicked each gesture and inflection.
At the end of the sermon, we had been going for about 2.5 hours. The next part of the service was time for anyone to confess sins in their life and raise their hands so they could come forward for prayer and have their demons cast out. I had somewhat expected to see something along these lines. It turned out to be not quite as strange as I had imagined, but lasted much longer. Nearly everyone who was prayed for fell down ("slain in the spirit" as they say - and they had catchers ready). A few were convulsing. This went on for nearly an hour.
When all the demons had been cast out and they were wrapping up the service, then they wanted us to speak to the congregation. Realizing that neither Marideth nor Tracy were too keen on this request, I chose to stand up and speak on behalf of all of us. I kept it short and sweet, saying this experience should remind all of us that God is the God of this whole world and that it was our privilege to have been able to worship God together with them.
They closed in prayer and then Willis took us back to our house. It had been fun, it had been awkward -- at 3.5 hours long, it had been kind of arduous, but in the end it was a fantastic, authentic experience!
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