After years of reading articles, wondering what it must be like to listen to a sermon in Tok Pisin while visiting a local village, and after months of planning, you are finally in Papua New Guinea. Sitting on a bench in church during Friday night fellowship, the Tok Pisin song is familiar enough for you to recognize, and you begin singing the English equivalent in your head. You are grateful that the person in the row ahead of you owns a very worn hymnal in Tok Pisin, allowing you to read over their shoulder and sing in their language.
Tok Pisin, the trade language, is somewhat easy to learn, especially if you have a background in English, Spanish, French or German. As you listen, you recognize that Tok Pisin has enough similarities to English that you feel fairly confident that you will be able to follow the main points of the service, although the details may be lost on you.
The song leader announces, “The next song is ‘My God Loves Me.’” She sings the first phrase, counts “One, Two, Sing,” then begins.
Around you, most of the people join in. As you know this song, too, you join as you enjoy praising your loving Creator with these precious people. Partway through, you suddenly find that your voice is the only one that is on the correct pitch; everyone else has used a different interval than you have ever heard this song sung before. You quickly correct yourself to join the group and listen even more carefully to everyone around you.
The next person to stand in front announces, “It’s Bible quiz time! This question is for the children. ‘I am an old woman, but I became pregnant with a child.’”
As your mind begins naming quite a few women in the Bible, wondering which one he is referring to, a child in the front row says, “Sarah!”
“You are right!” the leader says, then proceeds with a significantly harder question for the adults.
Looking around, you shift forward in your seat, only to feel the bench shift and tip under you. The bench, which has no back, is made from the side of a hand-carved canoe that is no longer water-worthy yet makes for a sturdy seat. Unfortunately, the bench began tipping because it was nailed to a post that was no longer firmly in the ground. The rest of the people sharing the bench perfectly regain their balance—they are used to rocking and tipping in canoes—and are not offended at you nearly dumping them over onto the sandy and damp red clay ground.
“It’s time for offering,” a young woman says from the front, then begins singing “Kina na toea yu holim” (“The dollars and cents you have in your possession”), a song about how it is God, not ourselves, that rightfully owns everything, and we should be faithful stewards. You fish into your pocket for a bill that you carry to the front of the sanctuary and place it on the table beside the beautiful flower arrangement, carefully picking up a coin left by someone before you and putting it on top of the bill to keep it from flying away.
You continue looking around, careful not to tip your bench again. The front rows are filled with children and youth, with smaller children seated among the adults surrounding you, along with over a dozen women and half that many men, most of whom are fanning themselves to combat the heat, humidity and buzzing insects flying about. You see nine uniform shirts from Adventist Youth, Adventist Community Service and Pathfinder Camporees—all well-worn. You begin questioning your dark blue pants, light blue button-up shirt, sneakers and socks. They had seemed so casual as you planned your Sabbath wardrobe, but now you feel overdressed.
The main speaker stands. “Our verse today is Matthew 7:24. ‘Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.’”
You listen as the speaker shares: “When we are obedient and practice our faith, we can withstand wind, rain and floods. But we must be obedient: pray, listen to God and trust and worship Him, and read the Bible and not just carry it to church!”
You smile at his fitting illustration, recognizing how wind, rain and floods can seriously impact a family living in a house on stilts that has water under it, sometimes for weeks at a time.
After the main presentation, everyone stands to sing, “I Will Serve Thee Because I Love Thee.” You join, following carefully to stay on pitch.
After prayer, you notice people file out one row at a time, starting in the front. Then several church leaders who have lingered also follow suit. As you stand up and begin to exit, one of these leaders motions to you to come up to the front of the sanctuary. The rest of the church leaders join.
Two elders, a deacon, a nurse, the Sabbath school superintendent and a deaconess stand with you in the front. The elder who is presenting tomorrow’s sermon steps to the center as everyone else holds hands at chest height in a circle around him. “We are dedicating tomorrow’s service and speaker to God. I will pray first, then you pray,” an elder beside you explains.
You bow your head and listen as the elder lifts the congregation and speaker up to God.
When it is your turn, you begin hesitantly in Tok Pisin, “Dear Heavenly Father” . . . then, relief floods you as you remember that God hears and understands in every language. These people firmly believe this, and they know that it is best to speak to God clearly, not with halting speech and poor grammar. So you switch to your mother tongue for the prayer, lifting the speaker, congregation and community before Christ. When you finish, you add, “In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Everyone raises and lowers their hands at the same time, carrying your hands with theirs. As eyes open, you see that everyone is smiling as they systematically shake each other’s hand. You join in, smiling as you feel very included in the group.
Afterward, you walk back up the hill to the house. Clouds are gathering and growing in the northeast with a promise of rain tonight. Tropical birds loudly discuss the evening’s plans while frogs and crickets add their voices. You listen to the community at the river; their language sounds more like whooping music than words and carries well across the water. After a brief equatorial sunset, the Sabbath begins, and you are at peace with God.
