A WARNING TO MYSELF ABOUT DOING CHURCH

After sharing with her amidst plenty of laughter, reflection, praise and caution, a sister and friend suggested I write this personal experience down because it spoke to her, and she felt it was worth sharing.

Her suggestion struck a chord so here I am.

As the title clearly suggests, this is a clear case of allowed, encouraged, and advocated ‘ME FIRST’ approach. Here goes.

I guess you could call it one of the fall-outs of the Covid era. I had been mostly doing church online for so long that I felt a need to do physical church this blessed Sunday. Since my friend who usually picked me for service was indisposed, and I was far away from my known environment, I decided to visit one of the churches I had noticed near where I was staying to see if any worked for me. Since I am an avid and enthusiastic ‘Church tourist’, I was really looking forward to the experience.

But I had a challenge. I would have to walk there and this would take me at least some fifteen minutes. So many questions came to mind. If I had to walk, I would definitely need to put on comfortable shoes. This was easy. As a senior citizen, it had to be my sneakers. First problem solved.

Next was what to wear. Comfort was again a priority. But of course I could not wear my usual exercise gear. However, I knew I would be sweating considerably since it was a humid summer day.

I decided on a boubou, you know, the free African robe that women wear often in Africa in order to allow lots of fresh air ventilate their bodies.

I think the idea of standing out as a foreigner might have crossed my mind, but, hey, that was exactly what I was. And in more ways than one. I figured it might even make things easier for me just in case I hurt some sensibilities with my sneakers. They would understand and forgive me more easily that way.

So, off I went, wearing a face cap to protect me from the sun.

As if by rote, a car was just driving into the parking lot of the first church I thought I’d check out. If it worked for me, I would start attending regularly instead of making my friend drive such a long way to pick me and drop me.

As the driver stepped out of the car, I noticed that she was an even more senior citizen than me and that she had a mask on. That was when I remembered I didn’t take a mask along! Yes, I had take my two vaccination shot and all, but if they were wearing a mask, then I had to as well. But I wanted information on their worship hours, since there was no sign to inform interested parties. So I thought I’d just approach her, observing the necessary social distance, to get that information.

While doing so, I remembered I had brought the scarf to the boubou along to cover my head when I entered the church. To make her even more comfortable, I decided to use the scarf to cover my mouth and nose.

So while vaguely aware of what a strange picture I might have presented, I nevertheless approached her… and that was when it happened.

I think I was already laughing to myself a bit before I spoke, because of her wary reaction as I approached. Immediately I noticed this, I quickly tried to allay her fears by shouting out my question:

“May I know when the Sunday worship service starts here please?”

I might have been speaking Greek. I smiled behind my scarf. Was it really that bad? There was an awkward pause until another woman of about the same age, also masked, alighted from the car.

When too had that wary look but managed to murmur something vague and inaudible, in reply to my repeated question. I got the impression she thought I was coming to beg and wanted me to understand she was not in the mood for all that.

Still wondering whether I should pursue my enquiries on worship hours or not, I noticed the two women were trying to set up a wheel chair, and the front passenger door opened at the same time.

And elderly man struggled to get down from the front passenger side of the car. It was obvious the wheelchair was for him. He it was who responded to me with a smile and answered my question clearly.

By the time, I had of course decided that this was not where I would be worshiping that day. I thanked him with a smile, really grateful for his obvious attempt to make up for the two ladies’ lapses, even as I walked away from them. While I was a bit disappointed at such a reception, I wondered to myself if my appearance was really that bad.

As I moved towards the next church — there were four side by side — I noticed a Church signboard in the French language, however, it only provided the contact information of the pastor. I stopped to copy it reasoning that since it was in a language foreign the nation, which incidentally I was comfortable in, they were probably more receptive to strangers.

As I did so, another car drove into the parking lot of the next church. I assumed this must be the church in question. As the car occupants alighted form the car, I noticed they were not wearing masks. Perhaps the Lord was leading my steps, I thought. Okay, let’s see how this goes.

This time of course, I didn’t have to cover my nose and mouth so perhaps I made a less frightening figure. There was a man welcoming the new arrivals at the door. This was more like it, I thought. They were greeting each other effusively in English.

I approached them with a similar question. “When does worship service start here please?”

I didn’t notice any wary looks here… or maybe I had steeled myself to its effect. But the only thing that concerned me was that they were all dressed to the hilt in pure contrast to the way I was dressed.

This time though, my question was answered promptly and clearly: “It’s starting right now.” even as they walked into the church auditorium. Slightly hesitant, I followed thinking: Well it looks like God already prepared me for this. Turned out He did… in a manner of speaking, that is.

I was greeted casually, no doubt by the church greeter standing by the door. My first and immediate concern was the whoosh of cool air that hit me directly on the face. I am not too fond of conditioned air. So I immediately tried to identify where the air conditioner vent was so I could sit where I could avoid its direct force. Fortunately, apart form the two couples that cam in just before me, the small church auditorium was practically empty.

I though I had found a good position at the back but shortly after I sat down, I realized it might not be. However, I planned to grin and bear it until I saw the open toilet door to my left. Looked like I was going to had to grin even wider. Fortunately, shortly after the service started, the people who had been sitting beside me move a row forward and I could shift my position leftwards, for whatever it was worth. I still only had to look to my left to see the toilet!

But I must remember to share with you my impression when service started. This time I was forced to restrain the instinctive whoah! That almost escaped from my mouth because of the high volume of the loudspeaker. I did mention that it was a small auditorium, didn’t I? However, the loudspeaker was clearly not small in capacity, if in size, as I could not see it. Otherwise, it must have been the capacity of the ordinary-looking microphone (which I could see) that was being used.

I recall sighing dejectedly and reflecting, slightly disoriented, that my church was after all not the only one that loved power sound (my polite was of saying noise). In my mind, I had already decided that this was going to be my last visit here, although I quickly cautioned myself when I remembered that less than thirty minutes earlier the thought had flitted through my mind that just might be where God wanted me right now. The two ladies’ dutiful handshakes were certainly a great improvement on the colder reception I had received at the other church. More grinning and bearing to do, apparently. Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit… self control is a fruit of the Spirit…

As the man who turned out to be the worship leader mounted the pulpit and started urging us effusively and loudly to praise God, I remember thinking that he looked very much like TD Jakes ( I was later to discover that almost all the adult men there were TD Jakes look-alikes!). Few though we were, the response of the majority ( and by that I mean everyone but myself) was overwhelming. It occurred to me that this might be the first time they were meeting physically since the Covid virus brought social distancing measures with it over a year ago. Even if this was highly unlikely, since social distancing restrictions had been relaxed for at least a couple of months before then, it was the only explanation I could come up with to justify such excitement.

Even as I thought to myself, somewhat amused, that the TV comedies that mocked African-American churches actually had a basis for their representation, I still felt kind of awkward that I simply could no flow with it. No, not even if I was in an environment of people I was used to, and had not seen for years. But that was my problem, not theirs, I thought.

As the praise worship continued, other members of the church would troop in, and each time, these two women who had come in the same time as me interrupt their oud and effusive praise, cross the auditorium towards the new entrants, and welcomed them with lots of tight hugs and enquiries about their welfare, which seemed pretty obvious to me.

My discomfort increased but I grinned and bore it even as it occurred to me that this was their turf and not mine. Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit… Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit…

All this continued for a while and finally, to my great pleasure, I heard the announcement for people to step forward to share their testimonies. I love hearing testimonies and waited eagerly. I was not disappointed.

The first person, one of the two ladies mentioned earlier, came forward to share her testimony of healing. It was nice. The type I have heard often. We all applauded the lord for His goodness. That part was easy for me.

The second lady came forward. I confess I cannot quite recall what she shared but I can guarantee you that this also ended with an applause. Another younger lady who had come in a bit later than us came forward to share a testimony that touched me considerably.

It would appear that there had been a strain in her relationship with her mother for a while and had shared her concerns with the other ladies who had prayed along with her for God to intervene. From her account, God di in a marvelous way. Her mother called her from the blues, apologized to her for how she had treated her and wanted to come visit with her siblings! You could see her joy brimming over. Knowing hos complicated family relationship could turn, I rejoiced with her from the depth of my heart, even if you might not believe me judging by its contrast with the wildly loud rejoicing around me.

Finally, another very well dressed middle aged lady shared her testimony. According to her, barely a month earlier she had come to in a pool of her own blood after she had fainted. She was rushed to the hospital where she had been diagnosed for an ailment that would ordinarily require her taking some pills for the rest of her life. It turned out that she not only recovered from that sickness in a short time, but after her first follow-up check-up, her doctor took her off the drugs because she had recovered fully!!! Now, how about that for testifying to a great, powerful, loving God! In spite of my doubts, He was here, even here! So, although I still could not compete, my applause at the end of this testimony was more enthusiastic than ever.

This lasted for a while until some announcements were being made. By the way, people were still streaming in all this while, and the two ladies were still doing their thing. At some point, for some reason, I was the only one who had nobody sitting beside me. I’ve experienced this many times before when I travel bu public transport in foreign lands even if I always caution myself not to be too sensitive about it.

One of the two women was so ‘filled’ that she kept shouting and screaming even louder than the man with the microphone, so much so that it was difficult to decipher what was being said from the pulpit! I think I might have glanced a bit too often in her direction every time she did this, and she noticed it. I cannot quite confirm, but I think she gave me a bad eye at some point. I remember thinking “Uh oh!” But then again, maybe I imagined it and it was my own discomfort getting the better of me.

Then we were enjoined to get up on our feet to praise God…

That was okay with me.. I will praise the Lord at all times… I could definitely relate with this. And since we were all originally from the race of ‘soul’ I knew I could flow with the congregation… somewhat.

And I was correct. A probably popular chorus praising God. Same three sentences over and over again to the same melody. I learnt it easily although I regret to say I have forgotten it now.

The singing stopped after a while but the music metamorphosed into an instrumental jazz. Everybody started dancing. Mmmh! I thought. Figured that had to be something unexpected again. I seized this opportunity to look around at the now almost-full auditorium.. It struck me that the calmest people in the house, apart from myself, that is, were that younger men playing the instruments, and the mask-clad children sitting down somewhat indifferent to what was going on! The thought” Roles reversed! Flitted through my mind. At least in most churches I have attended in my life, this was the case. Mmmm…

Since the dancing seemed to be going on for longer than I could handle, I sat down at this point, and was relieved to note that a few other congregants had already done so.

And the dancing to the jazz number continued until there were only three… of the four ladies who gave testimonies. Okay. Maybe this was the ‘ritual’ here. Soon, the the two lady ‘greeters’ as I now understood them to be, gave up and only the lady who testified last was left on the floor.

And of course, this afforded me the opportunity to check her out. She was very well dressed. She was flowing with the jazz instrumental. She danced, and she danced, and I thought, with that testimony she shared, she certainly had lots of reasons to dance! It was a pleasure to behold, I thought with a smile.

And she danced, and danced, and danced, and my thoughts wandered. It was now reminding me of ‘owanbe’ parties that socialites frequented in Lagos. Only they did not call her name. But the band was sure playing for her alone by now. And she displayed some amazing steps as she continued to dance.

With nothing else to do, I checked out her feet and was stunned. If the narrow heels of her shoes were less than nine inches high, I’d be very surprised! And there she was, making those moves. And she was not exactly a spring chicken. And she danced, and she danced.

Then I got a bit scared when it occurred to me that perhaps the lady wanted to give God a reason for yet another testimony. I mean, the most healthy young lady should hesitate to go for so long on such heels! And there she was…

Well, she eventually stopped.. or was it the band that stopped? I don’t’ quite recall. I looked around, figuring that I had seen the highlights and it was time for me to exit. But I felt a bit awkward about leaving since almost everyone would see me. So well, I grinned and bore it for another five to ten minutes. Self-control is the fruit of the Spirit… self-control is the fruit of the Spirit…

By the special grace of God, another group of people entered the auditorium shortly after that. Almost all the seats had been filled, and I felt convinced in my mind that I was probably occupying someone’s favourite seat. Now I had a good, ‘holy’ reason to leave. I got up and walked out. Nobody bothered to see me out. What relief!!

As I walked away, I reflected on how strange it was I should feel such relief leaving a church. Then my mind swung to the contrasting experiences of my visits so far.

I thought I would just go home now. But as I walked back, I noticed I had actually skipped a church because there had been no one there when I was passing the first time. The name showed it was the church with the sign in French. I enquired of the ‘rasta-man’ getting into a car with his children if this was the church. He confirmed it was quite pleasantly. I guess with our ‘strange’ appearance, we had something in common so it was easy for him to accept me as I was. Interesting.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. I had come this far, and I was not going to back out now. Since this was a mainline church I felt a bit more confident that this time I was not going to get any big surprise here. I walked in. I was right… up to a point. Yes, it was more the kind of atmosphere I was used to although very sparsely occupied.

Almost all the congregants, including a child, turned around to stare at me. Understandable since my phone rang as soon as I opened the door. Was this an omen? I quickly stepped back. It was a very important call. If I had still been in the other church, I certainly would not have heard it ring. To be fair to myself, I generally switch off my phone when I enter a church. My only excuse was therefore that in my unsettled state, I forgot to do so. And stepped out at the right time. Nice to know God is always in control, right?

I finished speaking to the caller and thought: Never say never. You’ve come this far. You might as finish what you started. I stepped back into the church again. A few more heads turned, ad in particular, that of a child to whom I made faces and we smiled.

Finally, I settled down to listen to what was being taught during what seemed to me to be ‘Sunday School’, by an elderly lady on the pulpit.

I listened, and I listened…. Why was it I could hear some French words, and yet not understand what they were saying? Then it dawned on me. They were speaking Creole!!

Well, at that point, I figured my mission had been fully accomplished. I sighed as I slipped outside, much more discretely this time, since I was sitting right at the back of the auditorium.

But the experience did not leave me. I felt it was a whole lesson about doing church… or not.

My initial reflections centred mostly about lessons they needed to learn. We are often like that, aren’t we? Eager to remove the speck from our neighbour’s eye while the log was still lodged in ours. This thought made me generously concede the fact that I must have been a strange irreverent sight’. And that thought made me laugh. Which partly explains why I was able to share it in such a light-hearted manner with my friend.

But surprise of all surprise, it was the point of my meditation during my morning devotion the following day. How do I behave towards strangers when I am in my church ‘comfort zone’? I wasn’t very sure. So I made it a point of prayer that day, and promised to consciously do better in future.

It was comforting to hear another friend I shared the experience with the following day, point out that the Lord might have dealt with them also the way He had dealt with me on the matter. I hope so. I pray so. I trust so. After all, the gates of hell cannot prevail against the Church. Amen!

THE END