Sundays in Zambia - Church

This post originally appeared in November 2009. 

I decided to save the story of my airplane trip to Zambia for another day (maybe someone will have a meme about terribly traumatic travel experiences & I’ll tell it then). Suffice it to say that there were canceled flights, icy airports, lost luggage, coin operated showers, and sleeping on top of carry-on bags involved. I thought that perhaps you might be wondering when is she ever going to post some pictures of Zambia? Is this, or is this not, supposed to be a Sunday in Zambia? Okay, okay, here you go!

One of the first things I had to do once I arrived (other than learn my actual job & borrow clothes from my house-mate Rebecca until my luggage arrived) was to find a church. I know! I was amazed that I wouldn’t be able to sleep in on Sundays too! I visited a lot of different churches, or maybe two. There was the bigger congregation where the pastor was one of the missionaries. It had a lot of diversity – missionary families and Zambians. But it reminded me too much of the churches back home. I wanted something different. And there was the church where Rebecca taught Sunday School – a tiny concrete block with a dirt floor. There was a lot of joy in that church, but they didn’t really need me.

I ended up going to the small informal Bible study that the campus ministry missionary had for the University of Zambia students. They wanted me to play piano. I was adequate not too bad TERRIBLE. And I wasn’t very good at teaching or leading Bible studies either. Really, what I was good at, was my job. Witnessing & what one would consider to be traditional mission work? Not so much. I’ve always wondered what strange magic made the Foreign Mission Board pick me for this work. Perhaps that magic was God.

I didn’t take any pictures at the student center (what the heck!), so here are some pictures from the church where Rebecca taught.