Lessons from a three-hour church service

It's sometimes said that culture is like a river. To fully appreciate its flow, you need to get in it. I had the privilege of putting this into practice recently when I visited a church with a predominantly Nigerian membership.

Rather than observing from a distance, I got to swim in the stream of their worship. It highlighted several ways in which my own multi-ethnic church values certain things differently. This doesn't automatically mean either set of practices is better or worse. But the customs reveal the creeds underneath. Experiencing the differences first-hand helped me sense what was going on under the surface.

Time

I walked into the main gathering space a few minutes before the start. It was already busy: loud with conversation and a passionate band rehearsal. My own church often fills up after the service has started like a slowly rising tide. It turned out they had also been in discipleship classes for an hour before.

The service itself was three hours long. It wasn't that timings were delayed or individual items dragged on. Twice during the sermon (which came about two hours in), the pastor mentioned that "in the interest of time" he wouldn't dwell on certain points. But no one seemed frustrated. There was no mass exodus at the end either. Instead, most pulled their chairs into circles and began to share and pray. This was their usual pattern.

What seemed to go without being said was that Sunday was a time to be together and to be with God in the same space. This wasn't a spiritual petrol station but a spiritual piazza. Creating rich relationships meant using a wealth of time.

Welcome

Welcoming newcomers was a high priority. Every newcomer was asked to stand and was given a round of applause. The pastor remarked how important names were. A roving mic appeared, giving each visitor an opportunity to say their name and something about themselves. Then everyone shook every visitor's hand.

During the service, drinks orders were taken - including for fresh coffee - and brought to our seat. Later an usher presented us with a tote bag containing a book written by the denominational leader and a water bottle.

What went without being said was that welcome involved being seen and named by the whole community. This was considered too important to be left to chance. In other contexts, visitors might feel exposed in such a church. In this context, being smiled at and directed to a seat would not have constituted adequate welcome. Perhaps this ties in with being part of a group culture – where what is most valuable is what is acknowledged together.

Honour

The service was punctuated with specific people being mentioned by name, praised, and prayed for. The pastor would call on various members of the leadership team to pray for them.

On this occasion, young people who had finished school were honoured. Some were discerning next steps, some taking on apprenticeships, others going to university. A video montage catalogued their life journeys from toddlers to teens. All were acknowledged, along with their parents. The power of public affirmation was palpable.

At the end we formed a tunnel - as I have sometimes seen at weddings - and all the young people went through and were literally sent out of the church.

The progression through the tunnel visualised a theme that clearly ran through church life: newcomers progressed through various courses covering Membership, Foundations, Discipleship, Ministry, and Leadership. Progressing through each stage felt like a mini opportunity to graduate and be recognised.

It struck me that the 50 youth members in the congregation had a visible and respected pathway to leadership on display week by week. I can be slow to allow people to exercise gifts, inadvertently adopting a posture of suspicion more than celebration.

Stepping into the cultural 'river' of another church

Time, hospitality and honour are not values exclusive to Nigerian culture, but their expression is culturally specific.

The point is not that one approach is automatically more spiritual. But when one group sees its culture as normal, another may feel it is unusual and therefore unwelcoming or even hostile.

For example, the speed and individualism of my own church culture could easily feel cold to a visitor from a more communal background.

Stepping into the cultural river of another church helps me see my own water. It challenges my assumptions and makes me reflect on whether what goes without being said in my context could be said better. In our case: is our desire to make visitors feel "comfortable" preventing them from feeling truly "seen"?

For most of us this won't mean discarding our own stories but considering how to add new chapters. It's not about diverting the river of our own tradition, but about allowing it to become a wider, deeper river, enriched by the waters of others. Where might stepping into a new river take you? What might you discover about the river you call home?