The First Nigerian Church Service

By Pastor Steve Nute

The Reggae style beat and tones of “O Merri Wo” with echoes of Harry Bellefonte faded to silence as I got up to deliver my first sermon to an African congregation.

This sermon was the culmination of a very lively service. I really enjoyed the exuberant singing and clapping. I remember peeking to my right during one of the many prayers to see Doc’s reaction. The whole group prayed aloud together in response to a specific request. This was repeated for many requests, from the war in the gulf to the crusades that would begin that evening.

The Holy Ghost Band played and offered several special numbers that set the audience swaying and clapping. There was a lot of audience response during their songs.

I began my sermon by parading the newfound string of Igbo words made available to me by Ephraim’s children. I even got laughter as I mimicked he rooster’s cry of “ONYOCHA” and used Karen Y…s explanation of the Nigerian goats even speaking Igbo. They always greeted us with the classic Igbo welcome of Na.

The text was Psalm 139, and the topic dealt with God’s omnipotence, omnipresence and omniscience. The idea was to show that not only is God all of these in the grandiose scheme, but to note David’s personal observations on the subject. We rejoiced that not only is God omniscient, but he knows ME. Not only that, but He is able to do something personally for me with His omnipotence and finally, wherever I go, God already is. Oh if only I had read and heeded those thoughts as we entered this country.

I had finished preaching and God had allowed the word to go out in His strength. Now it was time to go home and prepare for the evening meeting, the first city-wide crusade of Awka in which we were to participate. I prayed that God would have His way and add His blessing to these meetings, thereby producing much fruit.

Lying on my bed recalling the morning service, I nearly chuckled out loud remembering the offering time. The plate does not go to the people, but he people go to the plate. Lines are formed and, with a musical cadence, the people march, shuffle and dance to the three-legged offering box. Tom says that the more elaborate the dance, the less money is given. That is only a jest, but to see these poor people give is no laughing matter. They have so little, yet they keep on giving and giving.

With the dazzle of brightly colored clothing and smiling happy faces filling my mind, I drop off to sleep. Soon enough I will be called upon to climb up on that platform and present the simple gospel message that this city needs. It is with a sense of great unworthiness that I face this task, but I also know that the prayers of a great many people are being offered to God on my behalf.
Dear Lord, take these feeble lips and help them to proclaim great truth in simple form, and clear. Anoint my mouth of clay to glorify thy name and draw these folk to thee when they shall hear.
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