2 March 2019

I looked up at the large lightbulbs above our heads and wished they'd used the electricity flowing to those lights to power some ceiling fans instead. The pastor was saying something in French about following Jesus first and all the other concerns in life being secondary, but I was distracted by the sweat gathering on my skin and trickling down until it met my shirt. I found that by letting the sweat build up a bit and then fanning a breeze toward it with the handheld fan, I could find a few moments of relief. I shifted in my seat on the backless wooden bench, searching for a more comfortable position. During the offertory, the choir stood and sang, swaying, stepping, and clapping as they harmonized and kept in time with the beats from the drum set behind them--their only instrumental accompaniment. The priority seemed to be the rhythm more than the pitch. Everyone was in step, moving as one, but even the one leading them--singing out the first notes solo before the rest of the choir joined--fell flat on a few notes, and the others enthusiastically contributed harmony that didn't seem to match any conventional chords that I was used to hearing. They sang loudly, danced, and clapped in rhythm, and sometimes carried the tune.

If you come from a Western conservative evangelical church, with air-conditioning in the summer and central heating in the winter, padded pews, organ accompaniment, and choir directors who expect soloists and everyone else in the choir to be on pitch, while the choir members and everyone in the congregation stand or sit stationary--maybe sometimes daring to lift a hand or two here or there--then in more ways than one, church here might be a little bit uncomfortable. If you can figure out the sweat-fan balance, focus enough on understanding the French words of the sermon to hear the message, and catch a bit of the rhythm that unites the music, then it's still church, still a group of people gathering under the premise that God is here in his house and we're here to worship him.

A little discomfort might make us think that this isn't right, that if I'm not comfortable then God must not be comfortable with this either. Or a little discomfort can remind us to reflect on the essential parts and the purpose of this gathering we call church and appreciate how in our varying cultures we can still accomplish that purpose.

Anyway, continuous air-conditioning can't beat the relief of a second-hand breeze wafting across sweat-dappled skin after several minutes of stagnant hot air. So come and join us for church during hot season!