Sweet Sunday

 One look up that "road", I think drained all the blood out of my face. We had been invited by Pastor Tanaposi, whose overseer is our friend Pastor Banda. I was to preach, and Phyllis hopefully, was going to get the opportunity to speak with the women of the church. But first we had to carefully navigate our way up what looked like a washed out river bed.

 Slowly, less than 5 kilometers per hour! That's an assumption, as looking down at the speedometer was not even an option; eyes glued to the path ahead, sizing up every rock, and the huge gullies recently carved out by the torrential rains of early summer. A couple of times it appeared the only way to keep the car from falling off and into the deeply sunken shoulder was to painstakingly straddle both sides of this quite narrow rock bed. Just enough of a balance to the left that we couldn't fall off to the right, and the same to the right so we wouldn't tumble leftward.

 Each time we would roll over a jagged rock without scraping bottom, we would both breathe a great sigh of relief. Up to the top, and a left turn onto an otherwise very rough road that somehow took on the appearance of a super highway, at least in its diminishing effect on the fear factor. Finally there, and out of the car, Phyllis repeated to Pastor Tanaposi what I had just told her; "George's sermon is going to be titled 'Fear Not'". He got it, and we all laughed.

He's a young, energetic man, just back from a two day, and two night crusade he had preached, and on about three hours sleep, was ready to greet his large, lively congregation, who would be packed into a little church, about 1/4 the size of a building suitable for an American's comfort level. Nobody, however seemed the least bit interested in complaining. They were there to worship the Lord enthusiastically through song, and dance, drums and clapping. If there's one thing I've learned about African worship, it is this: perhaps because they lack the fancy instruments we take for granted in Western churches, their voices become their finely tuned instruments, creating harmonies that would pleasantly surprise any accomplished voice instructor; nothing short of angelic.
    
Pastor Tanaposi shared a bit about the crusade he had just finished, and was excited to inform us that first of all, seven Muslims had gotten saved, among them their leader who at first resisted his very presence. He would be making regular trips back there over the coming months, and by the end of a half a year have a church established, and a pastor set in place to lead this brand new congregation. Now that's a model for church growth!
    
Unique for such an out of the way place, the service was in both Chichewa, and English. His head deacon/translator, (sorry I didn't catch his name), quite tall for Malawi, about 6' 4" with a deep, deep voice, and the most beautifully animated facial expressions I think I have ever seen. He was the guy who would stand out in the choir of a huge concert hall, if you were in the third balcony. The only difference was he stood about three feet from me the entire service. Gentle of speech, and delightfully friendly, I look forward to meeting him again, when I will most certainly get his name.
    
Pastor Tanaposi had explained to us the burden of his heart for the young people of Malawi, many of whom were throwing their lives away on alcohol and sexual immorality, but from the mix of young and old within this congregation one could truly sense his was not just idle talk. The youth had a very active role during the service with a beautiful choir of their own, and it was explained to us that they are very involved in evangelistic outreach toward the young people of the surrounding communities.
    
After the adult choir, which was as rich and gifted as the youth, I was invited up to speak.The Lord had given me Romans 12:2 to both encourage, and challenge us all to not allow the world to lock us into conformity with it, but to be transformed by His Spirit, and then allow our transformed life to be so attractive with the power and the love of God, that many of whose lives we touch will be themselves transformed. The word I spoke was very well received. At the conclusion of the service, Pastor Tanaposi had both Phyllis and me come up, and together the three of us laid hands on , and prayed blessing over each mamber of the congregation.
    
Just before that however, Phyllis got to share regarding her ministry among the poor women of the remote villages, where she teaches hygiene, sanitation, and safe childbirth, along with the Gospel, and of the villages of Kainga and Pahuwa, where she was invited last week to teach after we had completed well repairs in both communities bringing relief to well over 400 families. One young woman named Deborah, who is also the church treasurer, heard Phyllis mention her need for a woman to translate for her came up and said she would be happy to work with her in this ministry. They'll have the opportunity to work together first at her home church, as Phyllis was also invited to teach the women there on a Saturday in the near future.
    
At the end, we were called up front to receive a gift from the congregation. They handed us a large, heavy package, double bagged in heavy plastic sacks, individually tied at the top. We then walked outside, and as is the tradition in many churches here, we shook hands, one by one with every man, woman, and child in the congregation, and headed home curious as to what our gift was. I have seen live chickens, feet tied together for slaughter looking fairly sedate as they were possibly trying to contemplate their fate. I've never killed and cleaned a chicken in my life, and wasn't interested in beginning this day. To our relief, the first opportunity we had we opened the bags and looked inside to find three 1 kilogram bags of white rice, and a couple large bunches of bananas.
    
So rich, and this beautiful day was only half over!