Feeling the Spirit

We arrived in Nairobi twelve hours ago. Our flight from Amman, Jordan was uneventful, though the connection in Cairo was rushed. We were met at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport by Diane’s Aunt Norma and her husband Wayne at 4:00 AM. Norma and Wayne have lived in Kenya on and off for the last four years. Wayne works five weeks on and five weeks off in the oil fields of Kazakhstan, and returns to Kenya to be with Norma, and their children, six of whom are from Kenya. They drove us back to their house, where we had tea, a thirty minute nap, and a shower. Then we headed to church.

Norma and Wayne attend Miracle Restoration Center, a Pentecostal Church located in the Nairobi slum of Sinai known as Lunga Lunga. We drove down dusty dirt roads lined with tin roofed shacks, clogged with people going about their early morning activities. The church is an open concrete building with a tin roof, which opens onto a courtyard shared with children playing, men baking bread, and a stream of raw sewage that you have to step over to enter the church.

The church has bare concrete floors, and is outfitted with plastic patio chairs in neat rows. Everyone was dressed up, with the women in skirts or dresses, and the men in shirts and ties or jackets. We had on our best clothes, but once again, felt under dressed compared to the local people.

Services were in English, with translation to Swahili after each phrase. Bible study, led by Diane’s Aunt Norma, was to start at 9:00 AM, but got started later, as people started to slowly filter into the church on Africa time. Services got underway around 10:30, with the congregation singing, accompanied by a small band, with an excellent guitar player.

One of my favourite parts was when the children got up to dance. Norma and Wayne’s girls Lizzie (8) and Joyce (12), who are members of the church’s children’s dance squad, did African dancing to two songs. Joyce was a soloist dancer for most of the first song, performing with natural ability and charisma far beyond her years. Joyce has malaria. Lizzie and Joyce’s mother died one month ago after a lengthy illness. Their grandfather couldn’t care for them, asked the church to assist, and Norma and Wayne stepped up.

At one point during the service, the pastor’s wife announced Diane and I as special guests, and called us up to the front to speak. Patrick told the congregation that we’d been in Kenya for eight hours, and that we were very glad to be here. Each phrase with translated to Swahili, and people smiled and clapped. It was clear that Diane was expected to speak, but she was overcome with emotion, and just got out one sentence before breaking into tears.

Pastor Laz, a Kenyan, gave a heartfelt sermon, full of passion and conviction. Part way through, the electricity went out, but he and the translator kept right on, speaking louder and with even more conviction. It was a powerful and moving experience.

This was the longest church service we’ve ever attended – it didn’t end until after 2 PM. We were both moved to tears at various points. We have not been saved, but today, in an open-air church in a slum near Nairobi, we felt the Spirit.