Disclaimer: Although I am currently serving with Mercy Ships, everything communicated here strictly reflects my personal opinions and is neither reviewed nor endorsed by Mercy Ships. Opinions, conclusions and other information expressed here do not necessarily reflect the views of Mercy Ships.
Life in Africa has been quite the adventure so far. I have been in busy markets bustling with hundreds if not thousands of shoppers and vendors, played soccer with orphaned boys, assisted nearly-blind-from-cataracts patients stand in line for a vision screening in a prenatal clinic, visited former patients staying at a converted polio hospital awaiting follow up appointments on the dock next to the ship, and cared for many patients who have suffered from disabling accidents or born with crippling malformations of their hands or feet. You gain a completely new understanding and appreciation for life when you see how others have lived. I have learned a lot about life here in the Congo. More on that later, but I wanted to focus on church for the time being.
It was my first Sunday on the ship and I wanted to go to church. Ever since I got off of working nights and every other weekend, I have found new life and energy by going to church every Sunday. Church is where I get spiritually filled, encouraged, and have my faith challenged in a good way. My home for quite a few years now has been at Rockford First. I remember going away to college and having to start all over with finding a new church after I had already invested so much into this church. It took me a while to find the right place. Once I did, I was really excited to go every Sunday. Now that I am in Africa, I knew that I was going to have an exceptional challenge on my hands in finding a church home.
Like I was saying, it was my first Sunday on the ship and I wanted to go to church. There is an activity desk in the cafe which contains seven or eight binders with various activities going on throughout the week such as bible studies, outreaches, volunteer opportunities, and crew activities. I pulled out one of the binders and found that there was a section dedicated to churches in the community. As I flipped through, I found a church just for me. There was an Assemblies of God church in town and they provided a translator for the service if there were English speakers in the crowd. So I signed up.
Sunday morning I entered the cafe and gathered with the other church goers. We packed ourselves into the land rovers and drove out to the church. The ride, as all rides in land rovers, was as smooth as gravel. I was rocked and thrown in the back seat. You really get to know someone when you are packed tightly in the back of a land rover. We plowed through puddles the size of my living room on more than one occasion. Wet season was here and it was not planning on leaving any time soon. We turned corners, cruised through roundabouts, and jumped curbs. Eventually, we turned a corner onto a crater filled alleyway and proceeded forward. A few hundred meters more and we had arrived at the church.
I was so excited to go to church. I was even more excited to go to church in Africa. We exited the landie near another puddle in the street. I barely noticed it because my attention was drawn to the music pouring out from the building. It was nothing like I had ever heard before, but it somehow made me feel invited. We walked in through the main entrance and were greeted with hand shakes and smiles. Then someone escorted us to our seats. I felt like I was at home. Even though I was thousands of miles away from my home in the states, I was at home.
The building was very nice inside. I was impressed to say the least. There were the essentials to any big church here at this one: lots of seating, a balcony, a big stage, a worship band with new instruments, a sound board complete with techs to run it, a projector, a video camera, and plenty of fans to move the air which can become stagnate if left to sit for any extended amount of time. We clapped our hands and sang along. When I say ‘sang along,’ what I mean is I made sounds which sounded like the words they were saying. The songs were in French for most of the time. I believe there was one in Lingala; or was it Kituba? At this point, I had no idea. All I knew was that I felt welcomed at a church I was brand new to. I like that about my church back home, Rockford First. Even though it may seem like a big place, it is one of the most inviting places you will go to in the area.
The way the service was laid out was different from the way it is back home. First we had a lot of praise and worship songs. Some I had recognized and was able to sing along with them in English. Then we sat down and someone went up to present something. It was all in French. What I pulled from it was that this was a time of prayer for the church. They asked everyone to agree in prayer throughout the week at specific times for certain needs such as family and the church. Painted on the wall in the church is 1 Thessalonians 5:17 “Pray without ceasing.” Some versions say “pray continually.” A list of needs and requests were put up on the screen. So we started praying. We prayed for every need that was put up on the screen. This was such a powerful moment. We as the Church were praying for not only the church we were a part of, but for missionaries and churches all over the world. We came together as one unified body, from so many different backgrounds, and prayed to God. I was overwhelmed by the whole thing.
After prayer the translator joined the group on stage and began to interpret what was being said into English. They then had anyone who celebrated a birthday or anniversary to stand up so people could congratulate them. Then they had all of the first time visitors stand up. My whole row stood up and we were greeted by dozens of church members of all ages. I thought that was the coolest thing. We were made to feel very welcome.
Announcements wrapped up the first part of the service and the speaker introduced the pastor who would be speaking today. A tall slender gentleman took the stage. He was dressed in a suit coat and trendy rectangular glasses. From here, the message began. The pastor spoke on three enemies of faith. He camped on one specific enemy: Time. It was a very powerful message about the power of time and its potential to rob us of our faith. The pastor finished with an altar call for anyone who feels as though they were waiting for God to move in their life. I loved the whole thing. It was a great message with an important takeaway on faith and God’s timing.
Service ended and they asked that all of the first time visitors stay after for a few minutes. The English speaking visitors went to a building next door where we were served a healthy dose of Fanta and Coke. The translator from the service came in followed by one of the pastors from the church. He thanked us for coming and we were more than happy to return the gratitude. We had a short question and answer time and then left in our land rovers to head home.
Church is not something that happens in one city to one community. Christ made it so that the Church, with a capital C, would be functioning in every community all over the world. By having me visit another church in another country, Christ was teaching me a lesson in unity. I did not expect to feel so at home in such a distant country. We were all believers from all parts of the world worshiping under one roof to one God. My spirit was so happy to be there in that moment. I thank God for this opportunity and for every future opportunity I have at returning to this church. No matter how far away you are from home, God will always make a way, provide for you, and meet you where you are at. You can never run away from God. In this instance I was running with God on this adventure and He provided something I needed dearly: a church I could call home while I am here in the Congo.
