Worship Resources


SERMON

AFRICA Sunday, May 18, 2003 Easter 5/B
Sermon Preached by Pastor Cheryl Mathison at SPDLC, Plymouth, MN

I have so much to tell you; I don’t know where to begin.

I have just returned from a 17-day mission trip to Africa.

There were ten of us traveling together; 4 from St. Philip.

We were in Kenya, Madagascar, and Tanzania.

We were kept really busy—with almost every minute filled, there was barely enough time to journal.

Besides traveling between destinations,

· We visited the sites of the church building St. Philip funded in Mananjary, Madagascar,
the church roof the youth of St. Philip funded in the village of Naberera, Tanzania
and, the hospital St. Philip is supporting in Orkesumet, Tanzania.
· We met the pastors of the churches, the medical director of the hospital, the Bishop of Tanzania, who preached here recently, and, shook hands with literally hundreds of warm and welcoming Lutherans.
· AND, we worshipped with the people of Mananjary and of Ankatsu, in Madagascar
and, with the people of Tanzania in a marathon service beginning at 9 am, Sunday morning, and still going strong at 1:30 pm.

(In case you are wondering how a simple Lutheran worship service can take over 4 hours: let me explain: the procession formed at 9 am; we were in it, but near the end. The procession began to move at around 9:10 and we were finally seated in the church just shortly before 10 am...and then the 9am service began)

Well, that’s my short list of highlights . . .

I could easily go on and on . . . there is so much!

Yet, when I think back over the last 17 days and all of the things that we saw and did and experienced, there is one event that I find myself coming back to as the defining moment of the trip.

It took place near the end of our trip and it was the part of the trip that I was least looking forward to. The day began with a 6-hour drive through very remote terrain
to a tiny village out in the middle of nowhere.

The road, if you can even call it that, for, by our standards, it wouldn’t even qualify as a trail, the road was alternately extremely dusty, and then wet and muddy. What was consistent the entire distance, however, was that it was littered with potholes, making the ride pretty uncomfortable.

There were lots of forks in the road; though, they were hardly distinguishable from any other part of the road. To my amazement, even without road signs or a compass or any land marks, our drivers seemed to know—instinctively, perhaps? —where and when to turn.

It was a beautiful sunny day when we traveled. The dust was thick I was in the second car . . . think about it. The heat was intense and we traveled at least half the way with the windows rolled up because of the tse tse flies. The land rover was equipped with air conditioning, thank goodness, however, the driver never turned it on with out being asked. He didn’t seem to mind—or even notice—how hot it was!

Five hours into the trip, as the driver started to slow his pace, we began to hear the faint sounds of voices...were they singing? Another turn, and suddenly, as if out of nowhere, literally, we were in the small Maasai village of Naberera.

We were hot, dusty, tired, and some of us, more than a little bit nauseas, as we crawled out of the cars and into the presence of the people. They were hundreds of them; men, women and children; all dressed in their Sunday best, singing, dancing and clapping their hands. They surrounded us with sound even as they surrounded us with themselves.

Without benefit of a clock to tell the hour or a phone to call to say: we’re almost there,
I was impressed with their readiness to greet us. I also wondered how long they had been waiting. What I didn’t wonder about though, was the fact that this welcome was orchestrated. They had practiced. They had rehearsed.

We were ushered into a straight line in the shade... They kept saying to us: African Sun too hot for you! (One young boy seeing Jessi Suomala, our middle school leader, exclaimed: “White!” I thought to myself: and she has a great tan! You should see her in January!)

Once lined up in the shade, the villagers filed past us shaking our hands and speaking words of welcome. Every now and again, an English “Welcome” was slipped in for us.

We walked a short distance to the church. It is under construction. It is a pretty impressive large roundish brick structure about 1/3 complete. The architect, a Lutheran from Bavaria, was there to show the plans for its completion.

Standing in the tiny patch of shade inside the open air church, the pastor invited the people to make the presentation of gifts. Each of us received a hand-beaded Maasai cross...I am wearing mine today. They placed it over our necks. I was so close to tears I could hardly utter thank you.

Then, it was our turn. Jessi presented the money raised by the young people of St. Philip for the roof. If there were any dry eyes before, there certainly weren’t now. They were so appreciative and grateful and moved. It was as intimate a moment as strangers ever share.

We were invited to stay for a “snack”. We moved into a small house where three women met us at the door. One held a basin and pitcher of warm water, another, a small bowl of powdered soap, and the third, a towel. We washed our hands before snack.

Inside the small room, we sat in mismatched wooden chairs around a large wooden table. Every chair had on its back, an embroidered cloth. It was really quite elegant. And get this: all the dishes matched. Here we are in this little remote village. No running water
No electricity. Huts made of mud and sticks. And they have matching dishes to serve 20!

I can’t even begin to imagine where they got them.

Our snack consisted of rice, roasted goat, potatoes, carrots, and bottled water and bottled pop.

Near the end of the snack, it was announced that in celebration of our coming (notice they said, in celebration of our coming and not of our gift) they had slaughtered a goat and were about to ceremonially present to us the goat’s neck...mmmm. It came on a plate with a fork and a knife and was passed quickly from one to another on our team.
Several brave souls tried it concluding: It doesn’t taste anything like chicken!

All the while we were eating inside with the leadership of the church, everyone else was circled around the building we were in singing through the entire meal. It was remarkable.

This event stands out as the defining moment of the trip for me for a couple of reasons.
First of all, I was overwhelmed by their grace expressed in the manner in which they received us. They prepared for us. They waited for us. They were ready when we came.
They made us feel welcome. They sang and danced for us. They were sensitive to our every need from shade to hand washing to bottled water and pop. It was clear, they knew who they were receiving and they received us with grace.

But more than that, what made it so defining for me, was that in that moment we who came to give were transformed into recipients. To be sure, we brought a gift. But, there is no doubt in my mind, that they sacrificed to give to us first. They gave without holding back; and all just because we came.

There is a dance between giving and receiving ~ and sometimes it’s not clear who is doing the leading. While the giver may think he/she is the lead, in fact, as it turns out,
the posture of receiving may be more suited for the lead.

St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians (9:11 – 15)

11You will be made rich in every way
so that you can be generous on every occasion,
and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.

12This service that you perform is not only supplying the needs of God's people
but is also overflowing in many expressions of thanks to God.

13Because of the service by which you have proved yourselves, men will praise God
for the obedience that accompanies your confession of the gospel of Christ,
and for your generosity in sharing with them and with everyone else.

14And in their prayers for you their hearts will go out to you,
because of the surpassing grace God has given you.

15Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!

I can read that passage in two ways:
One: with us, the mission team, a congregation with a heart for mission as the givers ~ and, I am encouraged by its message.

OR,
I can read it with the people in Kenya, Madagascar, and Tanzania as the givers
and then the passage surely takes on a whole new meaning, and I am transformed by the word.

May you be also. AMEN.