Worshiping at the Apostolic Faith Mission

So far this contextual study program has been challenging on many fronts. It’s very tiring for me to always remember names, names that are difficult to pronounce and have no English parallel. It has also been tiring to have to be the initiator of conversations. My little introverted self is being stretched, but perhaps in a good way.

From the first week I had the intention of visiting an inculturated church – a church that incorporates forms of uniquely African religion with Christianity. To do this I had to step well outside the Anglican Church into something called the Apostolic Faith Mission. Imagine for a moment a Pentecostal church with its simple doctrinal preaching mixed with an African Tribal Priest (think of the priest from The Lion King.) There were, as well, repetitive rhythmic call-response hymns and associated movement that was not quite dancing, but more than swaying. In many ways it was fun, in other ways it was quite foreign and I felt very clumsy even though I earned a compliment for trying.

There were probably about twelve of us gathered (a rather significant number for something known as an Apostolic mission) in a building that was little more than a lean-to shack built from looked to be a mixture of cardboard and corrugated metal. It was located in the Grahamstown Township, also known as a “location”. This is a euphemistic word reclaimed from Apartheid when black Africans were removed and relocated to these areas.

The preaching rose in great crescendos while the pastor moved about with a cane that was thumped against the floor as punctuation to his point and usually followed by a trail of amens or alleluias. The entire sermon if strung end to end lasted about an hour and a half. Two texts were used: Psalm 8 and Matthew 26 (I was never really sure what verses were used). The text was used only to illuminate doctrine. There was no experiential preaching here or even textual interpretation. As best I can recall the entire sermon was on salvation, lots of references to the “blood of Jesus”. There was little hope placed in this world and everything good was for the life to come.

The men, all two of us, sat on one side of the room while the women were on the other side (dressed with heads covered and many in the Mother’s Guild dresses which look like a white Salvation Army uniform with a blue sash). The priest wore a similar uniform to the Mother’s Guild, but his jacket resembled a doctor’s white lab coat over which he wore a blue sash like a deacon’s stole and carried the previously mentioned cane or in this case a short metal rod.

To close the service the priest brought in the “healing water” that was somehow revealed to the prophetess and founder of the church (I still need to research this, but it sounds a lot like Joseph Smith). We each drank the healing water and were anointed and blessed by the priest after which people danced and vocalized when moved by the spirit. All of this only took three hours. Oh, and did I mention that the whole thing was in Xhosa, the priest was kind enough to occasionally translate for me giving the whole experience a very personal touch.

Overall, it was certainly outside of my experience, and if I was in the States I would have ran as far and as fast as I could. But I gave it a chance here in Africa and I have to admit there is something enticing about it. But don’t worry; I have no intention of making anyone dance in the spirit in my ministry.

-Dean