Raising our family amidst poverty

                Today was Sunday and we were at our local Indigenous church.  As we walked into church it was obvious today was going to be another hot one.  The gathered congregation sat on an assortment of plastic chairs.  Looking around, there was a stark difference to what you would find in most church buildings in the US. 

                The floor is rough cement. The walls are not quite finished.  There are no “comforts”: no bathrooms, no foyer to hang out in, no carpeted area to let your kids crawl.  There is no nursery, no coffee area or comfy seats.  Just a small group of believers in a big cement building trying to do church.

                The prayers and songs are heartfelt if not quite in key.  People listen carefully to the Bible reading and teaching, trying to tune out the noise of the toddlers running circles around the room, and ignore the dog that has wandered in.

                It is obvious that this congregation does not live in the land of “abundance”. Part of the service is given to talking about how much money has been raised towards building bathrooms for the church, and how much more is needed. Ideas and plans are thrown around.  No one has enough money to just make it happen.  Most of them are probably not sure how they are going to eat for the rest of the week.

                Before we knew it, it was time for Sunday school, and I joined Lina, who teaches the class, as we traipsed over to the house next door, where we hold the class.  After singing a fun song about the walls of Jericho falling down (complete with marching in a circle) we sit down for the story. Afterwards each child is given a page of white paper and asked to draw something from the story. They sit on the floor as we have no tables or chairs for them.  The kids are reminded not to wrinkle their paper; there aren’t enough to give out a second sheet.  There isn’t a budget for snacks or any other extras, so after they are finally done drawing and coloring, the kids are released to go play outside while the adults finish their service.

                When we moved here I wondered how my kids would see things differently attending a church like this, and having neighbors and friends who were in need.  There are certainly some negative things about it.  Not having bathrooms in the church is certainly difficult at times.  And I grieved the girls not getting to take part in a Sunday school program like they would have in the US.  Usually I am the only Sunday school teacher they hear from.  And don’t even get me started about the constant threat of lice.

                But what are the positive lessons we can go away with?

                My kids will know that the outward things are not really necessary to worship God. They have observed a group of believers serving God with what little they have, with joy worshipping God in the midst of their poverty.

                My kids will know the joy of sharing with those who are truly in need. They know that poverty is not just something that happens far away. They learn to be thankful for the things we have, and to share what we have with others.

                They get to see us making a difference “on the front lines,” as it were.  Sharing the gospel is something we do all the time, not just talk about during devotional times. It’s not just something that we memorize a verse about.