blahblahblah, praisethelord? hallelujahamen.

Last Sunday I went with Kojo and his family to church. The particular congregation I visited is a pentecostal charismatic church called the Jesus Generation Sancutuary Church in Accra, and my experiences there were... loooong. The Sunday service runs from 8 am to 1 pm. All you fellow English majors out there, you did indeed do the math correctly. Yeah, that's five hours. Luckily for me, we showed up an hour late and left an hour early, so I was only there for a brief total of three hours.

Most of the service was in Twi, and even the scriptural readings were in Twi translation. However, every phrase ended with a Praise the Lord? Literally every two seconds I was guarenteed at least that much English. But what I did pick out was something about marriage and the dangers of modernity and women's rights and the devil as an evil deceiver. Somehow I'm sure all those topics were related. Kojo later told me that a portion of the message was about making up with your parents if you have any disputes with them, and that it was too bad that part was in Twi. Yeah, I guess God didn't care about me enough to zap a translation of that in English on the wall or something. Oh well.

Before I got there, I was expecting a congregation of maybe 50 members. Turns out the place was packed with at least 350 people. I spoke with one of the pastors afterwards who told me that they church is one of Accra's biggest, with three services each week and a total of 1,000 members. There are also branches in other cities in Ghana, and even a sister church in Poland. Or was it Holland?

I thought the service would be a lot more charismatic than it was. Everything was really tame and Western. Sort of like a New Hope, based in Honolulu, for those of you who know the church. There were even ushers in the aisle and greeters at the door. Different gospel choir groups sang and each group had elaborate costumes for each performance. However, the talent level was... not so high. Or maybe the sound system equipment just sucked horribly. The singers were very, um, enthusiastic, though. I'll have to admit that at least.

There were two collections. One at the beginning of the service and one toward the end. Rather than passing a basket through the pews, however, everyone marches up in rows to the front and deposits their cedis. Talk about pressure! Every single person got up and went to the front, but I noticed that most of the people didn't actually drop anything into the collection basket. They make fists and walk up and pretend to put something in. But nevertheless, I'm sure the church manages to make enough anyway, judging from the several Mercedes-Benz parked in the VIP stalls just outside the main doors.

The service facilities were anything but ritzy, though. Everything took place in a makeshift warehouse. The services are divided into different groups, one for little kids, one for youths under the age of 17, and finally the adult service. Overall, I'm glad I went. But I don't think I would do it again if I had the choice, unless I somehow acquire the desire to halt time completely. It was the longest Sunday of my life.

Check out some church photos and other random shots here.