Kena Hawkins Newkirk

That fateful Sunday, we also attended was the Burmese Zo Immanuel Church.  The Zo are the hill people of Burma, and they speak one dialect the fifty or so dialects spoken that that region.  The service was in the sanctuary with about forty people in attendance.  At the front of the sanctuary a projector had been set up with a screen shining slides and lyrics for songs.  When I did research later, I found dozens of images of young people singing solo at the microphone and only a few images of young people or children singing as a group.   Moreover, there seemed to be a large number of youth and children in the congregation as active participants.

Throughout worship, half a dozen young children ran laps down the aisle, crossed in front of the worshipers, and then ran back down the side to the back door in what appeared to be a fantastically fun game of chase.  At one point, while the pastor was delivering remarks in between songs, he clothes-lined a small girl and hoisted her onto the stage.  Plopping her down in front of the microphone he gave her some kind of instructions.  Immediately, the girl recited something memorized to the worshipers, possible a Bible verse.

Online, I found more videos of children and youth leading worship.  They have had young girls dance on stage to English worship recordings.  They have also had what appeared to be the entire youth group assembled on stage singing in their native langue like a youth choir.  Every so often, people would sing in English as well.  The use of both English and the native langue, traditional and popular contemporary Christian worship songs points to a kind of cross-cultural worship experience.   This congregation’s plasticity aided it in cultivating a vibrant ministry with youth and children, only to be outmatched by the Burundian service going on right under their feet.

Downstairs, we joined 120 others in the service hosted by the Light Mission Pentecostal

Church from Burundi already underway.  A young woman sat down next when the sermon began anyway and began to translate as best as possible.  Our translator told us that this service typically lasts for about four hours.  We sat amid colorful native dress and western suites as a choir danced and sang in front of us.  Several people craned Smartphone’s in the air to capture the visual.  Loud guitar, rhythmic drums, and keyboard accompanied the well rehearsed young people, and in the congregation could be seen some older women with homemade shakers joining along where they sat.  Most of the dancers were dressed in bright prints and women wore elaborate head wraps.

When the choir concluded, two men in suites approached the pulpit under the blessing of an older gentleman.  The older gentleman was explained to be the real head pastor, but the two younger men would be preaching in his stead that morning.  The sermon was preached in Kerndi and quickly translated into Swahili for the worshipers.  Lines were then summarized rather skillfully by our impromptu translator.  She told us later that many people in the congregation are on standby to be translators since the congregation has begun to attract other African refugees who may not understand Kirundi or Swahili.  Indeed, this was the biggest gathering we had been to that day and the congregation had only been meeting there for three years.  It is true that the rapid growth in Christianity is in the Pentecostal sphere.

The text for the sermon was the Valley of Dry Bones from Ezekiel 28.  The message was one of radical hope and the power of the Holy Spirit.  The theme of the Holy Spirit seemed rather fitting for a Pentecostal congregation.  The pastors said that when you are in the power of the Holy Spirit then people can see God in you.  You can be available and empowered to help other people.  The sermon then touched on 1 Corinthians’ 13:4-8 as the worshipers were reminded that the power of the Spirit is love which will never end.

When the sermon concluded, a rug was brought out from the hall way and laid out in front of the pulpit.  There then came the call to the altar for payer and repentance. The people began to sing and call out in disorganized songs as the musician tried to capture the melody.  A few people came forward and prostrated themselves in front of the pastors and several elders.  They leaders lifted up their hands over those on the floor and began to pray all at once.  The congregation joined in with song and prayer as those bowed on the floor kept their faces low.  The altar call finished and the pastors called for more song and rejoicing.

The choir jumped up and began to dance in a free form style.  People clapped their hands and gathered in the aisle moving around one another with huge smiles and laughter.  Some young men sat in the back observing but not getting too close.  As if to tip us up, shouts of “alleluia” were met quickly with “amen!” so my fiancé and I quickly adjusted to make sure we were taking full advantage of the only part of the language we knew.  After the celebration, there was more preaching and singing filling up roughly four straight hours of worship, but we made are exit fully exhausted from our full day of international worship.

Opportunities for Cross-Cultural and Trans-Cultural engagement between all of the different congregations are being strategically cultivated by Rev. Karen Lyons of the Methodist church.  The two most open congregations are the Eritreans and the Burundians because they have been there the longest.  All of the refugees tend to be a little bit wary of interacting with outsiders, and, in light of current political climate, the struggle for people in Clarkson has become even more challenging.  Rev Lyons makes visits to the other services and has invited them into community partnerships in which the UMC members and participate in open table discussion with refugees to offer support and help them assimilate in to the culture.  On the first Sunday of the month, the Burundians and Eritreans join the traditional service for communion and part of worship.  The non-English speaking choirs perform and some hymns are sung together.  Rev. Lyon calls this service “a glimpse of heaven.”

The arrangement of so many culturally diverse people sharing space has had some challenges; especially when I come to the care of the building and of the children.  Pastor Lyon will sometimes feels led to offer constructive criticism to the other pastors, but she has since agreed with them that no criticism will take place on Sunday.  Sunday is a day of celebration for everyone in the building, and all issues that need to be discussed can happen during the week.  When I attended, every non-English speaking service had children who were running in and out of the service.  I thought it was endearing at the time and possibly just a feature of non-Western culture.  When I spoke with Rev. Lyons, she said that the members of the Methodist church really desire more structure for the children.  They are concerned about the care of the building and the safety of older members and the children themselves.  Rev. Lyons started organizing Sunday school with the congregations, but as soon has her native volunteers turned over control to the refugees the program fell apart.  Nevertheless, children are valued in this diverse, inter-cultural community.  The church hosts a successful Vacation Bible School with nearly all refugee children, and of course the whole building is used for the Fugee Academy during the week.

The diverse and flourishing community of Clarkston United Methodist represents a new way of organizing worship.  In one space there are people praising God with dramatically different stories, backgrounds, and cultures.  Sunday worshiper transcends cultural and civic norms as believers share in an act of people assembly and offer new “expressions of Christian unity across time, space, culture, and confession” (Nairobi Statement).  Rev. Lyon said it best, for it is indeed a glimpse of heaven on earth.

Featured Image by Curtis Compton, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Oct. 9, 2016

The traditional service for Clarkston United Methodist was a gathering of just thirty friends, and the service gave the sense that the glory days of the congregation were behind them.  The pastor was out sick, and there was a supply pastor there to preach. There may have been some concern as to how this church was able to keep the lights on until we were ushered into the other services, each bigger and more vivacious than the last.

We were then escorted behind to a door at the front of the sanctuary where a hall led us to the Eritrean service in the chapel.  The leader of this service was Rev. Dawit Habtemichael who graciously translated some of his sermon so that we were able to keep up.  There were only about 10 people in the small chapel.  The kids were rolling on the floor until the back door was opened and they were shooed out.  He made a very interesting comparison from the older son in the story to the story of Hagar in Genesis 21:8-21.  In the story, Hagar and Ishmael nearly die from thirst until she sees as spring nearby.  Rev. Habtemichael cleverly argued that in case of the older son and Hagar, both people had access to good things but were covered by spiritual blindness so that they could not see what was right in front of them.  He exhorted his small congregation to refrain from complaining and negativity, calling their attention to the blessings right in front of them.  He pointed out the blindness of everyday people who do not take advantage of God’s grace, and he called on the congregation to open their eyes and be joyful.   I was impressed by the pastor’s preaching, and I found out later that he was a published author on the Eritrean worship experience.

The rest of the service was conducted in a familiar fashion until it came time for the closing prayer.  Rev. Habtemichael called on one of the women in the congregation to pray, and we were all given the signal to stand with bowed heads. The woman’s prayer, conducted in her native tongue, ebbed and flowed with volume and passion for a very long time.  It is difficult to say how long she was praying, but it must have been ten minutes. As she concluded the congregation joined her in a satisfying “amen!”

After that service we joined the Nepalese Free Methodist Believers Church worshiping just across the narrow street in a converted house.  As we entered children were gathered with a few young adults in the foyer of the house coloring and playing with toys.  We guided to through the old kitchen to a connecting room which may have been a dining room in a former life.  The space was cramped and congregants sat in folding chairs with men on the left and women on the right.   Most of the women had small triangles of fabric resting atop their heads, and some people had left their shoes at the door.  We found out later that the unstructured care for the children was main shared characteristic of between all refugee services. Two chairs were quickly procured for us at the back where we sat side by side with me awkwardly straddling the men and women’s sides in the middle of a narrow aisle.

The music struck up and the people joined with guitar, drums, tambourine, and keyboard in a selection of unfamiliar but lively melodies.  Their voices has shuddered when they sang in a fashion pointedly Himalayan.  They clapped their hands in 3/4^th time as the music was expressive of a staccato waltz.  The songs were full of movement hinted at their Nepalese Heritage, and one song in particular seemed to conjure up smooth are arm gesticulations and swaying around the room.  Their hands would flit gracefully through the air as they closed their eyes lost in movement.  The display pointed to a deeply spiritual expression of their culture.  For these worshipers, each turn of the wrists represented a connection the Triune God.  Many songs were concluded with a shout of “Alleluia” into the microphone which was met with a chorus of “Alleluia” from the crowd of worshipers.  However, the last few songs did not end in shouts but in an eruption of voices praying and calling out to God hands raised and eyes closed.  These ecstatic cries would go on for several minutes before reaching a crescendo and being concluded.

We sat through the sermon mostly clueless except for when fellow worshipers would give us hints as to what text was being preached.  I gathered at one point that the text was Hebrews 12:1-12.  Every so often, a child would emerge from the back room and wander around looking for attention or candy from one of the women.  At the end of the sermon, some announcement was made concerning us and one other Nepalese woman as visitors.  With no idea what was being said, took the preacher’s body language to mean that we should stand up.  When we did, a few of the young women draped cream colored shawls around our necks.  It was such a moving gift, and we were told (or made to understand) that we were to keep them as a gift from the community.

Bellow is a audio recording from the Nepalese service.

To be continued in another post…

Between Saturday evening and Sunday night, people from a myriad of cultures speaking many languages gather for worship on the campus of Clarkston United Methodist Church.  In 1990, the city of Clarkston, Georgia was selected by the federal government to be one of the few places in America where legal refugees were to be resettled and start their new lives after leaving a refugee camp.   In just a few short years, the community went from having an active chapter of Ku Klux Klan, to being what is considered by many as the most diverse square mile in the country.  

Every person who has been relocated to Clarkston has a unique story, but they all share a kindred struggle to find opportunity and safety in new land.  Most people who resettle in the United States though refugee programs spend an average of seventeen years waiting to be granted asylum in a refugee camp.  Many people marry and have children in the camp while undergoing the vetting process performed by United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) and approval from the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Services (INS).  After they are approved, they must pay their own way or borrow money to travel to their new home where they are hopefully connected to a resettlement agency that helps them learn the culture and set up their new home.  Friends of Refugees in one such organization that helps with the resettlement process.  In the course of their work, they have resettled people from over 100 different ethnic backgrounds.

Many people who come seeking asylum are doctors, engineers, and working professionals, but when they arrive in the US most refugees find work in outlying chicken factories.  They travel to and from the factories each day, but on Sunday many of those factory workers commute to a place of worship in which they can experience a few hours celebrating in their native culture.  They can be authentically themselves and authentically human.

Clarkston United Methodist Church is microcosm of the diversity and complexity that characterizes this little town.  In 2014 the congregation was approached, by a Burundian Pentecostal group asking if they could rent space.  Before this congregation moved out, they were approached by five other congregations requesting space.

For a Candler assignment, I have researched a few of these worshiping communities.  I’ve deiced to also post this research here on this blog in order to give my friends what the head pastor calls, “a glimpse of heaven.”

To be continued in another post…

Two weeks ago, I was amazed to see the students of Northside’s confirmation class encounter God on their retreat to Tiger, Georgia.  Despite a few injuries, the students were able to connect with God through worship, devotions, and practicing the Stations of the Cross.

I had the honor of delivering most of teaching (and most of the candy), in our Saturday class time. The theme for Confirmation is IBAC which stands for “I Believe in the Apostles’ Creed.”  The majority of our discussion in class revolve around the nature creeds and what the Apostle’s Creed means to us.

During the course of our lesson, I stop out students and asked them, what does the term “Apostle’s Creed” really mean?

Credo from which we get the wood creed simply means “I believe” in Latin.  It is the first word in the Latin rendering of the text.  Our students remembered this from our class time, but it’s important to understand that belief is different than knowledge.

As Methodists, we emphasized that people encounter God through reason and experience as well as tradition and the Bible. Knowledge is gained through reason and belief is gained through a real experience of Christ.  When we recite the creed, we are not just talking about information gained through reason. We are articulating an experience of the creed as an ordering principal in our lives because we have encountered Jesus.

There are facts about Jesus and the nature of the world which we can know in our minds, but that does not mean anything unless we have been shaped by an experience of the Godhead. Through experience and reason the person is able to say the creed and mean it from the core of their being.  This is what we mean by belief, and this is what we mean by Credo.

Now what exactly is an Apostle?  At first glance, many would argue that apostle, or aπόστολος in Greek, signifies Jesus’ famous 12 Disciples.  I think this is nearly right, but does not quite capture all the nuances of the word.

You see, the Greek word for “disciple” is mathaytes, μαθητής,  and means something like student or follower.  Jesus had a core group of 12 Disciples that followed him but there were other men and women that learned from his teaching too.  In fact, we are all called to be disciples.  On the other hand, apostle, or aπόστολος  in Greek actually means “one who is sent.”  The idea is that one with the title of “Apostle” had learned enough from their teacher to go away to teach others.

Most of the 12 Disciples are also considered Apostles to various lands.  Thomas famously spread the gospel to India and James spread the Gospel to Spain.  Paul claimed to be the Apostle just to Gentiles or non-Jewish people, and in Romans 16:7 he refers to a woman name Junia as an Apostle as well.

The Latin word for Apostles is Missio , and it is where we derive the English term “mission” and “missionary.” Through this tradition Christianity has identified other Apostles in the ministry of St. Patrick in Ireland and St. Boniface among the Germans. 

We we say the Apostle’s Creed in church, we are saying that we believe in the ministry and message of those sent before us.  We set our hearts on a teaching that people have risked life and limb to deliver to us.  We identify with their passion for Christ and the Gospel, and we recognize that if ministry of Jesus to be done then people must be sent.

We are all sent each week from our places of worship into the word to be missionaries.  The benediction of the preacher sends us forth with a message which we have set our hearts upon, and which we agree needs to be shared.  We are charged each week to show the world that God offers forgiveness for sins, resurrection for the body, and the life everlasting.  And when we share that messages, we participate in apostleship too.

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” (Acts 1:8 ESV)

Greetings from Vladivostok, Russia.

We are 14 hours ahead here at Russia’s most Eastern port city (9,288 Kilometers from Moscow). It is a fascinating location, and I thought I’d write a little about my experience, and why I wanted to travel to this almost unpronounceable place.

Historically, the Russian people view themselves as the inheritors of Byzantium Christianity, the Eastern portion of the Roman empire which survived in Constantinople. In Russia, this kind of Christianity is known is Russian Orthodoxy and is a very elaborate and beautiful branch of the Christian faith.

However, under the Communist regimen, religion here became illegal, and all people were essentially atheist. “Onion domed” churches were demolished, believers were harassed, and clergy were persecuted.

In 1990, religion became legal once more, and there was a huge boom of interest in things related to faith. It was as if an entire generation had been raised in the dark until someone decided to simply turn on the lights. People were hungry and curious for God. I’ve been told that during the 90s a few small flyers for a church meeting could draw 300 visitors.

This isn’t the case anymore. In fact, though 80% of the nation identify as Russian Orthodox, less than 5% attend worship at least once a year. For the most part, Russia is no longer atheist, it is secularist. The newest generation did not grow up under communism but under the increasing influence and distraction of capitalism. Loyalty to Russian Orthodoxy is really just a manifestation of patriotism, and the nation is in a bigger crisis of faith than ever before.

I had a desire to come to Russia because I am convinced that this is an area of the world in dire need of Spiritual support. There are people that struggle with hunger and shelter. There are nations at war. There are neighborhoods in turmoil.

Yet, I have come to believe it is the kind of people that I have met here in Vladivostok who need the “the Communion of Saints.” When I look out across the Pacific Ocean, I can’t help but think that Vladivostok is the “ends of the Earth” Jesus was talking about when he sent out his disciples Acts 1:8. The end of the Earth can be a lonely place. There are not many practicing Christians here in Russia, and the people here are tempted to feel discouraged and to lose hope.

I have met many first generation Christians here, and I have been so amazed by their testimonies. Each one came to the church for an ordinary reason: for English lessons or social events or simply because a friend kept inviting them. However, once they encountered Jesus they were transformed. I have seen many native Russian people moved to tears telling the story of how they became believers of Jesus Christ.

The church here is very young. The first wave of missionaries that came in the 90s has started to recede, and the churches are trying to move towards self sufficiency. The people are so thankful for any guidance we can give them. I have been asked the most basic questions about Christianity, and I am humbled that I can be of service.

I’m grateful that God has given me the opportunity to serve the Kingdom and my brothers and sisters here in Russia. Whenever we pray “Your Kingdom Come” it can feel like an unfulfilled longing, like an empty hope. Yet, I know that God’s Kingdom is growing here in Russia. Good News is being preached in a once oppressive land, and here Good News is desperately needed.

Before you lay down tonight, before you close your eyes, please remember this place. Please, pray for Russia, that God may reign in the hearts of all the Russian people.

Amen.