Going to the Chapel

Day 7 –

This was the day we got to experience our first church service in Kenya. We had gotten into the country exactly a week before so this was another of our “firsts”. Our whole team was split into smaller groups (to not overwhelm the church) and sent to different churches around Ngong so we could walk. I was in a group with Japheth and we headed to a church that about a quarter of a mile outside of town. We walked in when the first service (that was in English) ended and were escorted to our seats by an excited usher. Again, we were welcomed wholeheartedly and treated special. The next service started which was going to be in Swahili but I was surprised to see that they had brought up a translator especially for us. Wow. They cared enough for our physical needs but also for our spiritual needs as well. How can you not feel special in that situation?
     The choir got up and led the congregation in worship (mostly call & response format). They had an electric keyboard turned up pretty loudly and a very good drummer pounding out exciting rhythms. Then a group of kids got up to sing a song together which warmed my heart; they kept changing keys and the piano player had to keep adjusting the key to match. Japheth leaned over and pointed that out to me and we giggled as the children went back to their seats. The pastor got up and started his sermon. I was struggling to keep my eyes open as were my other teammates and some were actually asleep. Apparently, jetlag was still upon us. Japheth, with a grin, nudged me and told me that I should wake them up or the ushers would; it was disrespectful to fall asleep during church. Some things do cross cultures. My Kenyan friend also told me that one of the ushers jobs was to make sure people stayed awake during the service, “That’s so funny”, he voiced. I laughed as I poked those who were not aware. The service ended with prayer and the hymn “Tis so Sweet to Trust in Jesus” in Kiswahili. I noticed that many churches would start prayer with a worship song and then everyone prays out loud until the leader ends it with a loud voice in closing. It was a surprising way of congregational prayer, but I instantly appreciated how I was able to hear the raised voices to our God and participate in it myself. Powerful, I tell you.
     After the service, we introduced ourselves to the congregation. Introductions and greeting are very important in Kenyan culture because of their emphasis on relationships. Here was my greeting every time I was asked to give one:

Bwana Asifiwe!/Praise the Lord! (sometimes twice)
Jina languni, Missy/My name is Missy
(insert where I am from)
Nakupenda Yesu/ I love Jesus.

     Then we were whisked away to the Bishop’s office for chai and mandazi (delicious pastry), greeting people as we went. We visited a while and had some good conversation – meaning, Japheth talked mostly and periodically told one of us to say something. We were still a little cautious so that we wouldn’t offend anyone. I was very impressed with the Bishop and church in general – it reminded me of my church back home; small and strives to live only for God. It was a new concept to my mind that people half way around the world who live in a completely different culture love the same God I do. I was in awe. Really. What an awesome revelation! Before we walked back, we visited a teen Sunday school room to greet them and encourage them. They all giggled as we spoke, but listened intently.
     We walked back to the Senta, ate lunch, and shared what our group experienced at church with the rest. The rest of the day was spent listening to Nams talk about cultural sensitivity with us so we would go into our assignments with some background. The last thing he told us: offend as many Kenyans as you can, say you are sorry, and learn from it. Of course he was not completely serious, but the idea was that we shouldn’t be so afraid to offend that we wouldn’t experience culture or gain deep relationships. Later, I fully understood what he meant.
     My mind was racing with questions and uncertainty. Trusting God was a feat for me, but with loving friends around me, I was learning to give it all away. My heart was captured by Kenya already – I hadn’t gotten homesick yet but I was ready for it once the time came. Good friends from school that had been on the same trip in the past had made me a redlining bag. Redlining was a key term that meant closing yourself up to the culture, to learning, to making relationships, and being homesick/depressed wanting to get out. I was so curious to know the contents (it was given to me in May) because I was told it would help me with redlining. We would see!
That next day we were to find out our assignments and partners. I was very ready for my curiosity to be fed.