The worship space of Rwamagana Lutheran Church |
Going to church in Rwanda is pretty much just like going to church in Minnesota.
Another thing I am learning is how to dance. I like to think I’ve always had pretty sweet
dance moves, but when it comes to church I have often opted for the moves of my
Scandinavian elders – the “stand still and look pretty serious” move. And there’s nothing wrong with this. I have
worshiped fully and deeply this way. I
have been moved by the Holy Spirit in this stillness. But here in Rwandan I get to bear witness to
the liveliness of a congregation that lets the Holy Spirit move them
literally. The beat of the drum and the
syncopation of the lilting Kinyarwanda verses alone are enough to get anyone up
and off the pew – add the Holy Spirit to that and it’s a pretty good time. (We have even broken out into a mid-service conga line on more than one occasion.)
These sounds of worship are hard to contain within the
walls of the churches. When I walk to
church, the streets are busier than any other time of the week. Sunday mornings are the closest thing
Rwamagana has to a rush hour. The streets
are full of men in suits and women in brightly colored dresses coming and
going from church. I can hear the drums
or choirs of various churches as I pass.
And as I approach my church, I can usually hear it before I see it. Our choir is smaller than most but their
strong voices still echo under the tin roof and spill out onto the hillside.
Churchgoers wander into our worship space slowly as the
choir sings. The sign outside says that
the service begins at 9:00 but, true to African time, the service usually gets
going around 10:15. Although my
neighbors don’t seem to be in a rush to get to church, they are also never in a
rush to leave. Most services are two
hours long at the very least and I have been to some that lasted six. But no one seems to mind. No one is anxious to get home and start their
yard work or watch the big football game.
Sundays, here in Rwanda, are for church.
I must confess that I miss the worship experiences that I
grew up with more deeply and intensely than I expected to. Although I am learning to celebrate, give
thanks, and worship in new ways; the worship that I grew up with will always be
part of me and feed my soul in a way that nothing else can quite match. But I am lucky because part of me is also
being taken over by Rwanda, it’s people and it’s traditions. And I get to take all that back with me (all the
traditions, not all the people… although that would be fun.) My faith and my capacity for worship will
forever be stronger because of the mornings I have spent at Rwamagana Lutheran
Church. And my life will be perpetually
blessed by these people who have an attitude of gratitude worthy of dance.
This video is not one of the full-fledged dance parties I
was talking about but it still has a pretty sweet beat.