Let me tell ya a little something…The Presbyterians in Mozambique know how to get down! 2/24

Yesterday morning as I sat at the kitchen table, I stared at the world map on our wall, noticing that the African continent is literally the most colorful in the world (mostly due to the colonial legacies when the Western powers just to decided to divide it up, but that’s another story). I couldn’t help but wonder, is there something more to that? Could it be because they do in fact have some of the most colorful, richest cultures in the world?

Soon after this thought, I walked the five minutes to the local Presbyterian Church, trying to time it so I’d arrive early, but not too early because you all know how uncomfortable it is to feel all eyes on you in the pew when you are the obvious newcomer. My goal was to minimize this time, but failing miserably and in true Gracey-time, I instead got to slip in with a few others through the back because the service had already started. This worked to my best interest because I altogether managed to avoid the waiting period when you inevitably think to yourself, “It would have been easier to stay at home.” But then again, a little discomfort isn’t always bad for me..

I had finally motivated myself to make it to church because it is a huge part of Mozambican culture, (everyone goes!) and while I’m here I intend to experience it fully. The service lasted two hours and was entirely in Changana, the local dialect. However, that didn’t matter much because most of the service was dancing and singing, more universal languages.

First, a group of around 20 young adults in their twenties danced their way up to stage singing a song about going to the promise land tomorrow, in English. The song was a pleasant surprise, entertaining because it was sung with a Bob Marley-like accent, and the energy was incredibly rejuvenating.

Next, the Big Mommas (if you will) bounded onto the stage belting “Amazing Grace” in Changana. If there were ever a choir I was meant to belong to, it would be the Big Momma Choir because although most of them were a little off key, it didn’t matter because they were praising with all they had just the same. They were dancing, and clapping, and having a good ol’ time…

Finally, most of the church sauntered onstage and at this point the church was really celebrating. I sat, watching them smile their toothless grins, some dressed in Western suits and others in traditional capulana dresses, swaying as one, and I imagine this scene was the image of the Body of Christ Paul envisioned. Here are a people oppressed by poverty and AIDs, yet their spirit did not seem crushed at all. Quite the contrary, just like that cheesy worship songs says, I think they could sing of His love forever…

I left feeling uplifted by their energy and inspired by their faith. Maybe I was not worshiping with the most educated people in the world, but that didn’t mean I didn’t stand to learn something from them. Oh, and, maybe there is something more as to why that map of Africa is so colorful on my wall. At least I like to think so based on these experiences.