Zulu Pentecostal Worship Service

Yesterday began with a LONG ride to church … 120+ kilometers…approximately 75 miles.We left at 8:00 in the morning for 9:30 worship. And I thought my ride to Sawyer for 30 minutes was a long ride –grin.It was a humid day and the sun was low enough that the humidity interfered with the beautiful vistas…but it didn’t keep us from enjoying the rolling agricultural lands where we saw fields and fields of sugarcane.It’s amazing how the city ends and the rural area begins with just a hill or two separating them.The homes in the rural areas of Africa are not pretty.They are a picture of the extreme poverty that the African people lived in under apartheid.Changing laws does not change economies for those who have nothing. Homes are pieced together with found things…a sheet of drywall…a piece of tin…leftover material…mud…anything that will fill a hole to keep the wind out of the inside of the building.Many of the “better” homes are cinderblock homes. Through the eyes of an American, the poverty seems painful.But through the eyes of the homeowner, there is great pride in being able to provide a place for their family.

I prayed along the way for the service we were about to experience.I had expressed to Marcie that I wanted to experience a “true” African worship service.I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the worship services of Marcie’s Evangelical church with the "coloured" people of Durban. In South Africa, blacks and coloureds are not the same people. Marcie had tried to prepare us for what we might see during this pentecostal service…people “slain in the spirit”…demons being cast out.She told us to expect a very loud service…and punctuated that remark by carrying earplugs to church (smile).

Mandini is a typical rural African community.There were “modern” shops, but the parking lots were littered with thrown together “farmers market” booths…literally slats of wood hammered haphazardly and crookedly and not really sure how to describe it.I would be frightened to buy food from such a place.But fresh produce lay spread out on shelves and pallets.Under a tent-covered area of a large parking lot there were “stores” available…belts, purses, etc.We passed through the shopping area on a deeply rutted, somewhat paved road and turned into the area where we would worship on a dirt road between tiny abodes and residences.The ground was covered in garbage, abandoned and stripped vehicles, broken glass and dead winter grasses.It was a humbling experience to know that people live like this while so many of us live in homes that would be considered great luxury to these dear people.

Our church “facility” was an unfinished home that has been loaned to the young pastor to help build a church.Nkululeko Ngomane, a graduate of DBC, planted this church in this unreached community…a community that till now has been full of witchcraft, satanic worship and demon possession.Nkululeko is in his 20’s, married to the beautiful and talented Andile. Folks…what’s happening here is my idea of a miracle.They meet inside 4walls built of cinderblock with a bright orange, corrugated tin roof.The church members bring their plastic chairs in on Sunday morning and set up for worship.The front of the building has been covered with bright orange and pink sheets, draped beautifully to add to the “ambience” of a worship building. When we arrived, a young lady was leading several children in singing a chorus to the familiar tune of “Alleluia”. We walked in and were directed to sit on the front row on the left…yep, the very same seats we sit on in our home church!I was a little nervous because there were two stacked speakers directly in front of me.We tried to carefully take pictures throughout the service without disturbing the worship experience.

The young lady leading music was replaced by three beautiful young teenage girls that were apparently the praise and worship team.They were dressed in beautiful white dresses or skirts with yellow/gold sweaters and shirts. I was curious because they all seemed to be wearing “designer” heels.It was obvious that Sunday was a day they took special care in their appearance. The girls sang in beautiful harmony. But as they were singing a young man came in and set up a keyboard.He removed one of the speakers in front of me, giving me a better view.But then he hooked up the other speaker and handed two of the three singers cordless microphones.I realized at this point there was electricity in the building.I had not noticed electric poles as we’d entered the community so this surprised me.I’m not sure how to write about the level of sound that then filled the room. The young man on the keyboard reminded me of an organist at a professional baseball game.The music reverberated through my whole body. Beautiful, strong praise music. People had slowly continued to enter the room after we had arrived for worship.Each chorus seemed to last for five or six minutes, repeated over a dozen times.Each section of choruses was followed with prayer.All the members of the church pray out loud at the same time.I would say some were speaking in tongues…but it’s hard to tell when you’re in a worship service spoken in another language. (weak smile).There were at least five or six song sessions followed by prayer each time.About halfway through this process, I think the pastor realized that we were sitting directly in front of the speaker.They asked us to move to the opposite side of the room and sit in a row that had been set up behind the special chairs for the pastor, his wife and that morning’s special speaker.Their chairs were covered beautifully in white slipcovers with ribbons across them.It was much more “comfortable” worshipping on that side of the church.

You may wonder how one worships in a totally foreign language environment.I heard the word“nKulunKulu” several times.This word literally means “Great God, Great God”. I heard the word “thanda” several times which I knew means “love”. I heard the word “sibonga” during the praise choruses, a word that means “thank you”.It was enough to know that we were among worshippers who were praising the Creator God and father of our Savior Jesus…and my heart settled in to worship in a way I’d never done before.

The Bible was read by the pastor from the NIV…and then he asked one of the young women on the praise team to read it in Zulu.An offering was taken and it was a pleasure to be able to share with the small church. At this point I realized the room had to be filling behind us.People were still entering the building, and many were outside.There was another room at the back, outside where we’d entered, and several women were busy preparing a meal in that room.I heard the pastor share that they had four months, till November, to raise money for a bigger place to worship because they’d already outgrown this meeting place.Folks…in my world…that’s miraculous.We later realized that over 60 people were in a worship meeting that had only started 10 months ago.Sixty people rescued from the darkness of witchcraft and satan worship!I was really blessed by the joy I experienced during the music portion of the service.I found myself wondering if “stuff” gets in the way of our worship.These beautiful people had so little…really almost nothing…and so they seemed to throw their energy into loving and praising the Lord. Those who have heard Dan and I sing will be astounded to know that you could not have heard us in this small room. Not just because of the speakers and microphones…but because the people were joyously expressing their praise and worship in song.How my heart has ached for this kind of uninhibited, unpredictable, inexpressible kind of worship and joy.I know I’ll have to go home and work to “fit in” when everything within me is telling me that this is what true worship…worship in Spirit and truth…looks and feels like.When and where did we get the idea that worship should be “respectful of those around us.”Worship is supposed to be total abandonment to God…and that’s what I saw and felt in the room yesterday.It didn’t inhibit my ability to worship and praise.It excited my spirit!

I thought the sermon would be a bit of a let-down after the excitement of the music portion of the service…but the best was yet to come.Mlungisi Ndlobu, a former student at DBC and friend of Nkululeko’s, preached the morning service.Shortly into the service, Nkululeko realized that we were “missing” the message since it was being preached in Zulu, so he grabbed a microphone and started translating. It was amazing to watch what happened at the point.It was as if the two men of God were exciting and inspiring each other.I almost felt like I was watching cheerleaders…cheerleaders for God.Mlungisi was preaching from Proverbs 3:5 and helping the people to understand why they cannot lean on their own understanding and must trust the Lord. Each sentence of the sermon seemed to excite Nkululeko and he responded with the same body language and fervor. They got excited.The preached over and over, “Trust in the Lord”.They expected God’s Word to do the convicting…not their words.It was exhilarating and exciting to hear the church members responding with “Amen” and “Praise the Lord”.

Of course, I’d be remiss if I didn’t make you aware that a building full of people in the warm African sun can heat up uncomfortably. The pastor saw Marcie and I fanning ourselves at one point and offered all three of us bottles of Eish2O…a carbonated fruit water drink.It was very warm in the building…but it wasn’t warm enough to be distracting. The heat almost felt like excitement, if that’s possible.

The service closed with the visiting pastor spelling names, and people walked forward in response to the names he spelled.He explained that he did not know these people, but then he shared a word of prophecy with each.I remember one of the beautiful young girls he called from the praise team.Her name was Zodeka and he told her that God had shown him that she would worship the Lord in ways she’d never before experienced. He then called people forward and a couple were “slain in the spirit”…to my untrained eyes this involved falling straight backwards to be caught by someone and lowered to the floor where they lay for a while.One young man apparently had a demon inside of him and the pastor ordered the demon to leave.Marcie said later that the service was very“tame” compared to some she’d been in where the demons left amid “screams” from the demon.I have to say that I’m glad I was protected from such a scene.

One of the difficulties of trying to enjoy a service like this is that a white-haired man and two blonde-haired women, all with white skin, do not “blend in”.From the moment we arrived there seemed to be a ripple, not only in the church but in the community.We’ve felt this in other places too.Truth be told, it’s uncomfortable and embarrassing.They make a big deal out of our presence in their meetings.We bring an “international” feel to whatever event might be happening, and we are treated almost like I expect movie stars or American sports heroes are treated.I don’t know how to explain to them that I’m just me…nothing special.And it hurts me when I think about the country I live in.We don’t treat our visitors with this kind of respect.We treat them as 2^nd class to who we are.Shame on us! The people of South Africa have so warmly welcomed us and enjoyed our company.I just want to be one of them…to fit in…to see them doing “their thing” and join them in it.

After the worship service I stepped outside to “cool down”(in the hot African sun…it had warmed up quite a bit once we moved away from the ocean). I had my camera around my neck and the next thing I knew I was surrounded by a group of beautiful children.It’s so hard to express the joy of those children coming to me…a complete stranger…different color skin…and immediately wanting to be near me.I decided I needed to take pictures and show them what they looked like, but they crowded so close I couldn’t do it.So I handed the camera to Dan, who had followed me out, and asked him to try.The children were a little shy at first…getting them to truly smile wasn’t easy. But once we showed them the pictures of themselves, the smiles and cuteness and poses broke out.How fun it was to fellowship with the children for a few minutes.

We were invited back into the building where a table had been set up and we were to be guests of honor with the pastors and young men who had led in worship.A beautiful net had been spread over a fully-loaded table of goodies…breyani, beef curry, delicious fried chicken (tasted like the best Louisiana has to offer), butternut squash, beetroot, potato salad, a tomato/onion salad, tossed salad.It was a feast!All of the church members were still seated in their chairs and had been served meals in Styrofoam-covered plates and were eating already.I was overwhelmed by the generosity of a people who have so little and yet share so abundantly!Marcie has explained to us that it is important whenever company visits that they be treated to something special.That’s why we are offered tea and biscuits (cookies) everywhere we go.Americans could learn a few lessons from South Africans when it comes to hospitality.

After lunch, Marcie wanted to visit a young girl she had befriended with her mission team from the college had worked here back in June.Her home was only a short distance from the church and Marcie explained, as we walked to the house, that the girl’s brother had been stabbed to death this past Friday.We stepped into a house of mourning.Mom, grandmom and a couple of friends were seated on mats on the floor to our left. Friends were seated in chairs along the wall on the right.Across the room a beautiful blanket hung on a wall, and below it was a mat with a pillow and clothing that had belonged to the 27-yr-old.We sat quietly with the family for a while.They talked in Zulu with their friends, obviously explaining what had happened.At one point the mother unwrapped some newspaper and pulled out the large kitchen knife that had killed her son.After several minutes sitting in silence, Marcie asked if we could pray with the family and we left the building mourning for this young life that was apparently ended for no reason…other than the fact that evil persists everywhere.We returned to an oven of a car…the temps were now in the mid 80’s and dusty and still.As we left the housing area we saw a “flock” of chicks race across the road and three goats dining in garbage (one was very heavy with child/children). A missed turn took us through a “nicer” area of homes, but we eventually found our way back to the highway.The trip home felt so long because we were very tired at this point.We stopped for some ice cream on the way (have you tried a “Magnum” yet?If not…go for it.)We got back home about 4:00 and Marcie crashed and slept for the rest of the day.Dan also took a nap while I was transferring pictures of the day to my computer.

“Trust in the Lord with ALL your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”This verse today has“attacked” my heart and soul.You see, I very much feel drawn to South Africa, but everything in me… every bit of logic I have…says that service in South Africa as full-time commitment would be impossible.What do I do with that?Is it enough to go home and look for“support” for South Africa?Is it enough to provide scholarships for young men and women being trained to “make disciples” of the South Africans?Of is that verse that says, “Go ye therefore…” a command from God’s Word to my heart?I have children and grandchildren and friends in America!I might make friends in South Africa…but I want my children and grandchildren near.And then a dear friend posts a verse this week that has also pricked my heart and soul since seeing it:Luke 14:26 “ If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple.”Am I letting my responsibilities as mother and grandmother keep me from making a full-time commitment to God?I’ve also not talked to Dan about any of this…I’ve been hoping and praying that he would say something about God working on his heart about this without feeling like he’s “copying” me or letting me lead in this endeavor.I know that God would not give me this “call” without giving Dan the same “call”.I know that Dan has loved it here and enjoyed the “experience” as much as I have…but is he feeling “called”?

I’m trying so hard NOT to lean on my own understanding.I know that God’s ways are NOT our ways.If His ways were my way this wouldn’t even be a problem.How can I possibly be falling in love with another nation when I love the nation of the United States so much?How can I want to leave my home full of freedom to live in a land that still struggles to overcome intense prejudice and hatred?Why would my heart desire to come to a nation fraught with crime and AIDs and disinformation?

I know why!I have met these people.I have seen their hearts and their hunger for the Lord. I’ve felt their warmth.I’ve seen their need for love and acceptance.I’ve seen their pride in their heritage…a good pride.I’ve seen their poor and downtrodden.And I’ve seen them through God’s eyes…children He loves with all His heart and children He wants in His kingdom.

I’m not sure why I argue with God.I’ve done it before in my life…and He always wins.I’ve failed Him… I’ve dragged His perfect name through the mud of my life…I’ve disobeyed Him…I’ve ignored His Word… I’ve done everything I can to keep from doing what I believe He called me to do so very, very long ago when I was only 10 years old.I knew then that He would send me some day.I had hoped all my short-term mission trips would count for sending…but I no longer know if that’s “enough”.

Pray for me!

Pray for me.