Church

Church in Zambia is very different than that of the US. 

For starters, the Tonga do not jump into their fancy cars and drive to church. Most people walk, a few bike. 

We had a 30 minute walk through the bush, passing by various clusters of dwellings and people eager to wave at and greet us. 

The church building itself was located in the center of a clearing in a field, with the grass at least 2 or 3 feet taller than our heads.  The mud hut had a pointed straw roof and two rows of small wooden benches. There were cobwebs in the corners and we stood on a dirt floor. 

As we came upon the church, I expected us to be the first arrivals, as it was ghostly quiet. But as we walked in, we were greeted by silent smiles. No one talked loudly, but rather in whispers and hushed tones. It seemed they were being quiet out of reverence for the coming service. I learned after the service that the men sat on the left side, women on the right. Oops. 

Everyone was dressed in their best garb. Some men wore button up shirts, black pants, and worn dress shoes. Others wore ragged t-shirts (obviously made in the US) and jeans. The women wore their cleanest dresses or skirts. 

The 2 pastors, who happened to be brothers, had us visitors introduce ourselves by saying our name and where we were from. They were incredibly gracious and welcoming towards us.  

Jako then led a bible study on Moses, which was interpreted in Tonga by one of the brothers. I quickly noticed that church here was interactive. Questions were asked; the congregation more participants than audience. 

After a lady came and read off the week's announcements, a man sitting behind me stood up and gave a sermon. 

I don't believe he prepared what he was to say, but rather spoke on the spot about Jesus healing the blind man. He delivered with passion and authority, so quickly that the translator had a challenge keeping up. 

Another lady, a house mom from the orphanage, then led the congregation, of no more than 10 adults and 7 kids, in a final song. There were no instruments, just the sound of our voices weaved in with the winds winding through the grass beyond the mud walls.  The Tonga sing loud and powerful. They do not plan what they will sing or how many verses they will sing; they decide these matters as the spirit leads. 

After the song concluded, the pastor instructed us visitors to exit first and form a greeting line. Everyone then came and shook our hands, Tonga style, and once again welcomed us. The 2 pastors stuck around to talk to us. After the 1-2 hour service, We then started the 30 minute walk back to main camp.