Here is the church. Here is the steeple. Open the doors and see all the people.
Acts 17:24
“The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands.”
We spent the month of July in Coffee Bay, South Africa with a slew a ministry opportunities. My team, along with three other teams on our squad, stayed at Bomvu Paradise Backpackers Hostel, living in tents and being lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean, bongo drums and late night bar gatherings of the lodge guests. Surfing and soccer camps filled our days and ministry to backpackers and locals our nights. When Sunday came around, each team split up to go to different churches around the area. Team APEX was sent out to the “village church”.
Days before our first Sunday gathering we went over the hills and through the woods, literally, and then some to pray over the church, the service, and its people. We were led to a peach-colored hut, which stood out among the the vast array of turquoise ones. We prayed for the sick, the children, and walked inside what we understood to be the church and prayed there, too. We sang some songs, had awkward language exchanges, long hugs and high fives, and we were off, looking forward to joining them on Sunday.
Sunday rolls around and our team is ready to enjoy our first African church experience. We report back to the same peach hut as some Xhosa women recognize us and initiate the cultural handshake. More awkward language exchanges, hugs and high fives. The kids arrive in groups of threes, fours and fives. We play some games and silly songs while we wait for the pastor to arrive and church to begin. We sing more songs. No pastor, no adults at all. Another game or two. Still no pastor. Finally, two men and a woman show up in their Sunday’s best. Here we go, time for church. They exchange some words with one of the women who seems to be the grandmother and caretaker of many of the children. And just like that, they are gone again. The remaining women and children look at us as if waiting for something to happen and it hits us.
THIS is church. WE are the leaders. These KIDS are the congregation.
Right there, in the field of goat poop,we had “church.” We did more songs, games and even a skit depicting the story of David and Goliath. Oh, did I mention these kids didn’t speak any English? But we know that our God is not bound by languages. We returned to that village for the next three Sundays.
It is something I’ve always heard, but was truly displayed for me that day in the hills of Coffee Bay: church isn’t a building, it’s the people.
We wasted too much time waiting around for some man in a suit to show up, open the doors to a building and lead us in some worship and teaching. God doesn’t dwell in buildings made by human hands. He dwells within us, He lives in the villages, the mountains, the valleys, the smiles of children, the hands that clap praises to His name.
I don’t know that I ever have or ever will experience church like that again, or ever burn so many calories in a church service. But what I do know is this: we cannot wait around for church to happen. We can’t sit around expecting the poor to come to us, or for the sick, the widow, and the orphan to knock on our door or call and ask for a ride to church. We cannot expect someone else to lead worship or preach a message. We cannot leave it up to organizations and overseas missionaries to take care of the least of these. Christians, we are the body of Christ, His followers, it is our duty to bring kingdom encounters to everyday life, we don’t wait for special lights and music and offering plates at a Sunday service. We were not created to be consumers. We are life-givers.
Go. Render the kingdom.
(And if you’re wondering about the title of this blog, let me tell you that it has been inspired by the name I gave our little village church gathering.)
