Church Universal

Several weeks ago I introduced my own short-term African mission experience. Today's sermon on the "one holy catholic and apostolic church" inspired me to continue my story. Unlike Amanda, my Africa sojourn didn't involve very much relationship-building with the native people of Nampula. We interacted with them, especially the children who would watch us work, but our main mission was to do construction and free up Dr. Woodrow to continue working with the people. I think it was an effective use of resources - after all, he lived there building relationships, and he spoke the language. Even so, I wish I had been able to make Mozambican friends as Amanda has made Karimojong ones.

Some of the most special times we had, though, were worshipping in African churches. I think we visited a total of five different churches; they were all different, but they all left me in awe at how universal our God and gospel is. My favorite worship service was at a little tiny church made of bamboo poles and mud. As we drove up in our big truck, all of the church members stood outside singing and clapping to greet us. They had hung pink flowers from the ceiling as a special touch. The men sat on low benches on the right side of the room, and we women and the children sat on the ground on the left side. Everyone knelt for prayer. The zeal of these people was evident, especially in their singing. Several members (male and female) stood in the front with drums and tambourines and led the music. They used lots of call and response, and the distinct African harmony. I can remember sitting there wishing I had a tape recorder, because it was so beautiful!

They celebrated the Lord's Supper while we were there -- it was a little awkward for us, because they passed a communal cup (and frankly, we didn't know what was in it...it wasn't wine!). I don't think any of us drank out of it, but we were indeed feasting at the Lord's table with them anyway. They were a warm and gracious arm of the body of Christ.

At another Nampula church I learned a lesson that has never left me. The worship leader stopped the congregation in the middle of a hymn and said, "Stop. You are not singing with all your heart to your King. Start again and sing to Him!" That bold word, so unthinkable in a western worship service, became the theme of my mission team. As we dug foundations in the rock hard earth, we would remind each other, "Do this with your whole heart-- you are pick-axing for the King!" And I have tried to apply that lesson to many other areas of my life since.