Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Sunday Worship

Dr Sammy, as we affectionately call him, asked me to preach on Sunday. This was a singular honor given that I have very little knowledge of the culture. Rule #1: don't use any basketball illustrations.

I preached on the Parable of the Prodigal Son, which I told them was an awful title since there are two sons and both of them are terribly lost. And this is the third in a series of three parables which Jesus tells to the Pharisees and scribes when they are scandalized that he is hanging out with sinners. (Of course, I didn't say, "hanging out.") And in each parable there is great rejoicing when the lost is found.

The service started early with lively African praise music. Hard to miss with all the windows open. As team members arrived we were escorted to the front row, which was a bit embarrassing. (Back at home I much prefer to sit towards the back among the people.) But I was still able to see folks worshipping from my slot front and center; half the church came up front and started dancing. The Norwegian gene is obviously missing from the Turkana gene pool. There was dancing and jumping and clapping and ululating all to the glory of God and joy at being in his presence and in the presence of his people. A whole new take for Steve-Martinesque Americans on "in your presence there is fullness of joy."

The offering was an interesting affair, also. A huge wicker basket was set out. Dalmas, the on-site director, told the correspondence about giving to the Lord. He joked that if they had nothing to give, they could give themselves; the basket was plenty big! Then everyone (well, almost everyone) danced toward the front as the music played) and put their offering in. I've been looking for new ideas to take back to Stoughton.

I preached for an hour and a half. Sammy had told me to preach for 45 minutes which would double with the interpreter. Anything less than 60-90 minutes and they would feel shortchanged. So I gave them half of what they were used to. There is a hunger for the Word of God; no one raced out early for a Packer's game.