I have been to five African church services at this point. Each one has been very different than the others. But, none had been quite like this one.
We got picked up at about 9:30 am and embarked on our hour drive to the church. In reality, the church was only about 30 minutes away but due to potholes the time doubled. Then we had a five minute walk to the church over puddles and through the mud.
Upon entering the church, a cinderblock building with a high roof, we were greeted with smiles and stares. At church services in Zambia, the congregation sits on benches and they have a coffee table with a table cloth over it and plastic chairs for the pastor and his wife to sit at. Basically, it’s a seat of honor. As we entered this church, those seats were prepared for us. The pastor took a seat on the bench.
Testimonies, a women’s chorus, youth chorus, and praise and worship all transpired, mostly in Bemba. Every now and then the pastor would lean over and tell us what was being sung about. Then, the pastor rose and had each of us introduce ourselves.
Ashlyn went first. She encouraged the people and thanked them for having us there. Next, was me. I started off by saying one of the few phrases I know in Nyanja, “Muli bwungi?” which is a typical greeting, to which I got a resounding, “Bueno!” and laughter. Bueno means fine. I find it fun to surprise people in this way. Finally, Brooke introduced herself and moved into the word she had prepared (photo).
Brooke’s message was on mercy and grace. As I sat there, I was so encouraged by her word and listening to the response of the people. In the middle of speaking she was so moved by God that she had to take a moment to pray. We could all feel that the Holy Spirit was present and moving in the room.
By the end of Brooke speaking, Ashlyn and I both had things on our heart for the congregation. Ashlyn went next and shared a five minute encouragement. I felt in my heart that we needed to pray for people. So, I asked the pastor if that was okay. Not to my surprise, he said yes.
The pastor invited anyone who wanted prayer to line up along the front and for them to “not miss this opportunity.” Everyone came. The three of us worked our way down the line and prayed over each person maybe a 20 – 30 second prayer.
I have no idea how much of my prayers they understood. But, I know God understood every word. As I prayed my heart was moved by these people. Imagining the places they’re at in life, the places they’ve been, the hurt they’ve experienced.
After we finished, the church took up a love offering for us. My heart broke. These people before me, who have so little. These people before me, who strive to feed their families. These people before me, who can’t afford to send their children to school. These people before me, gave to us.
They gave because they believe in the work we are doing. I’ve heard stories of this kind of situation my whole life – those who are poor giving the little they have.
“And a poor widow came and put in two copper coins, which make a penny. And he called his disciples to him and said to them, ‘Truly I say to you, this poor woman has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”
I think Jesus’s point here is that she gave from the heart. For her it meant everything she had. That’s what I saw in these people. They gave to us from their hearts.
I walked into that church stirred by the love of God. I walked out of the church being touched in ways I never thought I would be.
I will carry these people in my heart forever. Not because of the kwacha they gave us, but because of the love in every handshake following the service. Not because they looked at us with awe in their eyes, but because through their eyes I saw the purity of their hearts.
Disclaimer: The kwacha given to us has gone to providing for the women’s retreats we are holding for the students we are working with.
