I knew holidays on the Race were going to be different. I would be in different countries with different people and different cultures. Upon learning that I would be in Côte d’Ivoire, Africa for Easter, I got so excited. I was ready to see what celebrating the resurrection of Jesus would look like in Africa and I walked away knowing one thing new, we need to dance more in church.
I grew up white, suburban, and catholic which means that the only times I moved on Sunday mornings was to sit, stand, kneel, and occasionally clap off beat. That was my normal. Then I moved to Mississippi and started going to a Methodist church and I attended a contemporary service. There was a little more movement there and again, that became my new normal. But these normals nothing compared to the normal I experienced here in Africa.
We walked into church at 9:20 in the morning and the service has already started with worship and praise. We were motioned to our seats that had been reserved for us in front and settled in (in front of a big fan, thank you Jesus). The worship and prayer was in French but even without understanding the language, I knew there something different about their worship. As the band picked up, people started getting restless in their seats and before too long everyone was up and out of their seats and on the move. Jumping up and screaming praises to God and dancing along with the music. A conga line started in one area of the church and before you knew it, it began making its way around the church pulling in people along the way. We were some of those people. We made eye contact with members of the dance line and the next thing we knew, we were a part of it as well. At first I froze, uncomfortable with what was happening. But then I decided to leave those fears in my seat and dance and celebrate that Jesus defeated the grave. If there as ever a time to dance and shout in church, Easter Sunday is such a time.
We made a few laps of the church laughing and dancing the whole time before we made it back to our seats. After I sat back down, I took a moment to think about what just happened and I couldn’t help but smile. The room was filled with such an explainable joy that the only answer had to be Jesus. And good grief, doesn’t Jesus deserve it?! Doesn’t He deserve to be celebrated in such a way that we can’t help but dance? That we can’t help but sing? That we can’t help but praise Him in a way that people start to wonder what is different about us? Why can’t church be that place?
It’s time we start dancing when we feel happy and joyful. It’s time to start singing when we feel like singing. It’s time to throw Jesus the party He deserves. I am done allowing Sunday morning church services to be a time where I just sit and listen. I am done hiding my joy in the Lord because the room is too quiet. It’s time to dance and sing and tell Jesus how much we love Him and how death has no power over Him or any of us. It’s time to join a conga line in an African church on Easter morning.
