Church ... one of those words that evokes feelings for most people. Be it good or bad. Going to church weekly does not make you a Christian, neither does not going make you a non-believer. Either way there are always those that go and those that do not. I have friends and family that do not go because they were "forced" or indoctrinated whilst growing up; got the Bible shoved down their throats and thus feeling fed up with the whole thing. I, on the other hand, had limited exposure to church and the bible growing up. One of the only things I ever remember as a child was that my mother bought me a children's bible with beautiful drawings when I was 12. We hardly ever went to church, other than weddings and funerals. Also sometimes when my mom's brother sang in the choir on special occasions.
Then we moved to the suburbs in standard six (grade 8). Church was around the corner and it was expected to go. After living in a residential hotel in central Pretoria for years, we suddenly had to fit in with the 'burbs. Quite an adjustment, the only child of a divorced mother in an area where "proper" families reigned. To this day one of the girls that befriended me there, is still a part of my life. (Thank you Louise.) The irony is that the "proper" families had issues all of their own. In fact, I think I had it more "together" than any of those youngsters. I had already seen and experienced things way beyond my years. I digress. Church. I tried to fit in. I didn't. I didn't believe. In fact, one day after attending another painful Sunday school session, I told my mom I am not going back. So much of fake and show was too much for me. I kept my word and never went back (then).
As life progressed though, so did my beliefs. The minister two weeks ago put it so nicely again when he talked about the holy sacrament of being baptised. Some people have an epithany and are reborn at a specific space and time. Others, like me, have a gradual enlightenment through various events or people. A soft glow that eventually turns into a fire. You only need one spark to burn down a house. Or some tiny thing that can break down walls that have been erected around your heart.
At university I finally felt "ready" to take the step of going through cathecism. This was after long sessions of pastor Ed at Hatfield Christian church (may he rest in peace). I turned to our local Dutch Reformed church. That was where I met Ds. Piet. (His son also became a minister and married one of school friends.) Ds Piet put both my mother and I through an adult version of the cathecism that I renounced years before. And I was baptised. My choice, my decision. An outward agreement and pledge that I believe. Yes. I believe.
Why is it important today? Why is it important to go to church? For me it is simply the kinship of fellow believers. You can pray by yourself, you can read or study the bible by yourself, but being among people that share a common belief, it makes you feel like you belong. It gives structure to your life. A safe haven. A place where you can turn to where you know you will be welcome. Irrespective of your background or how you came to be there. That is the reason why one of the first things I did in Zambia was to find a church. I am lucky, I have a church locally where I can be served in my mother tongue. Not all of my expatriate South African friends are that lucky. We are doubly blessed, because when we do not want to travel the 50 Odd kilometres to the Afrikaans church, we go to the Fellowship where the praise and worship is a joy. The formal vs the informal, best of both worlds. Small steps into making a life in Zambia.
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