Let me tell you about a little something called church in Africa. I’ve heard rumors. Rumors of crazy loud worship, dancing, yelling, excitement, and an unwritten rule that the service must last at the very least 3 hours. Well, take it from a girl in Nakuru, Kenya – the rumors are true.
Yes, today I sat through my first African church service. And it rocked. my. world.
Let me set the scene. After a short drive through a local slum, our contact Esther pulls into a grassy lot with a small mud caked building in the back. After we get out, she informs us that actually we will be splitting up between three different churches. So Kate and I are the lucky ones to stay behind on our own to experience this church in the Rondo slums. Upon entering into the church, they escort us to the front row and service begins.
Now when I woke up this morning, one of my prayers had been for the Spirit to show up and move through church today. WOW, did He ever. The service started with praise and worship. I wish I had it recorded to share with you all, but it wouldn’t do it justice anyway. There were no instruments, just voices. It was so pure and so straight from the heart. There were no light shows or fancy speaker systems or screens with words on it, just simple phrases that were shouted out in beautiful harmony to declare glory to the King. Power and strength and passion was behind every voice. Wow. You just can’t imagine. There is something about being able to throw your head back and lift your voice as loud as it can go to shout/sing declarations to our Father. Freedom. That’s what it is.
As praise and worship continued, they brought out the drums. Another Africa stereotype that turns out to be true and awesome. Because with the drums came the dancing. Lots of clapping, lots of jumping around, lots of waving hands, lots of running, lots of swinging arms. Freedom. At first, my little conservative American Christian self was a little shy. I loved watching the men and women around me getting into it, because I could see and even feel their joy. But that wasn’t how I was used to worshipping the Lord. I can tell you, though, that it didn’t take long for me to be jealous of their worship. It wasn’t enough just to watch them anymore. I wanted to sing and dance like that before the Lord. So I closed my eyes and let myself feel the beat of the drum and sway back and forth with a bit more force. Although it took a bit to coax myself out of all the “safe” movements, by the fourth or fifth song I found myself throwing my hands in the air and getting a little crazy. FREEDOM. Before I knew it, I was laughing. Laughing! In worship. Because I was filled with so much joy and weightlessness before my God. It felt good. No, better than good. It felt beautiful. It felt Spirit-filled. It felt right. FREEDOM!
After worship, more people than I can remember to count got up and shared testimonies or words that God had put on their heart. This included a LOT of “praise the Lord” and “hallelujah” yelling, and just excitement in general. And I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming, but next thing I know, they’ve pulled Kate and I up there to share a word ourselves. After Kate shared about how much freedom was in their church, I shared a smidge of my testimony and just talked about the joy we find in God and how much they are loved by their Creator. Somehow, I didn’t get nervous. It’s kind of hard to feel fear or nerves when after almost every line you say, the congregation gives an enthusiastic yell. At multiple points, there were even men jumping out of their seats and pumping their fists in the air. Talk about getting pumped up. It. Was. Awesome. FREEDOM!!
There were so many different speakers throughout church that I’m still not completely sure which one was the actual Pastor and which speech was the designated sermon. But throughout church, there were many encouraging words spoken to us. They kept mentioning how we had left our friends and family to come to Kenya. Which is true, but it was also cool to be able to acknowledge to them that although yes, I left my family that it is connected to me by the blood that is in my veins and that was very hard, I was in exchange being welcomed by my family that is united by the blood of Jesus that covers all of us. They liked that. I do, too. But back to their words of encouragement. They told us that we were the first white people to come to their church, and how it was such an honor, and that they knew that God had given us a package to give to them. Being in this Spirit filled church, that almost seemed humorous. What did I have to offer them? But the truth is, we all have something to offer each other when we are allowing God to work through us. So at the end of the service, when they asked us to speak once again, I got up there with more boldness. I declared that no matter where we are or where we come from, day in and day out we are called to claim the victory that Jesus won for us on the cross. We are called to do it with faith like that of a lion – strong, courageous, fierce, and relentlessly chasing after our Lord. We are ALL called to bring the Kingdom and live in, you guessed it, FREEDOM!!!
After 5 hours…yes, FIVE HOURS of church, we headed back out. It is amazing to me to see so many people gather together and not mind about the time. Could you imagine a five hour church service back in the States? People would flip out. But not here. They legitimately LOVE to praise the Lord. They get excited to share His work in their lives. They love to be together as a community and set their eyes on high. I tell you what, we have a lot we could learn from this church that I went to today.
They kept telling us. Be free. Be welcome. And not only did I feel welcomed, but I felt free. Truly free. I could sing, I could yell, I could dance with passion without fearing judgment. All in honor of my King. I think I’m going to like Africa (again). FREEDOM!!!!
