Power Miracle Evangelical Chapel

Yesterday I was invited by Lydia, a woman who works for my landlord, to attend Sunday service at Power Miracle Evangelical Chapel International (PMCI).  I had attended a Presbyterian and Lutheran service in Tanzania, but this was my first time at a Ghanaian Church and an Evangelical service in general.  I know very little about what distinguishes Evangelicals from other Christian denominations-only what I’ve seen from the Mega-Church televangelism from the American South- but this experience certainly fit that stereotype. 

Enter the choir and a rousing rendition of a song with only a handful of words.  Jeeeeeeeeesussssss.  Oh Jeeeeeeeeesus.  Oh. Jeeeeeeesus Christ is bo-hhhhhhh-rn.  The song went on like that for another 10 minutes.  The Reverend then asked all those who were attending their first service at PMCI to make themselves known.  Lydia, a real stickler, forced me to stand up.  As the only white person in a crowd of about 400 Ghanaians I did not go unnoticed.  Everyone in my section then eagerly shook my hand to welcome me to the Chapel before the service resumed. 

The morning continued with few more songs, and a reproduction of Jesus healing the sick by a youth group, before the Reverend Prophet Michael Mensah entered the stage.  Amidst the roars and wails from the crowd Reverend Prophet Mensah made his way to the podium.  With the ability to go from a hush to a howl in an instant, and all the voice fluctuations for dramatic effect in between, Reverend Prophet Mensah had the stage presence of a celebrity singer.  As he began his sermon, the Reverend, seemingly so captivated by his own words, tossed his suit jacket aside and exposed his enormous belly and sweat soaked undershirt.  Now, dodging back and forth across the stage, pausing perfectly in time with the music ensemble behind him, the Reverend Prophet brought his voice to an almost uncontrollable pitch as the crowd of people heaved ‘Amens’ at every one of his pauses.  He then invited people to begin their personal prayers.  Personal prayer is possibly the most public part of the service as people pace around furiously, swinging their hands in the air, screaming to the sky while making every possible facial expression and contortion.  After the personal prayer was over the Reverend Prophet took it upon himself to single me out for not being enthusiastic enough and urged me ‘to copy the actions of those beside me’.

Next came deliverance.  R.P. invited people to approach the stage ‘to be healed’.  Wailing women rushed the stage, spastically flinging their limbs about, into the arms of R.P.  R.P. then grabbed each person’s face, poured water over their heads, and threw them back into the waiting arms of two of his assistants.  This happened three or four times with each person as R.P. would run back and forth screaming at the top of his lungs, launching the participants onto their back heels.  Then a man came to the stage with a limp.  R.P., having identified the problem, placed a bandage around his calf, roughly palmed the man’s face, and then threw him backwards, declaring him healed. 

It was now past 11.30am and I had been in Power Miracle Chapel for over 3 hours and the service was showing no sign of wrapping up.  Not being able to endure any more of the deliverance spectacle I made up an excuse to Lydia about needing to be at work for some meeting and I made a quiet exit. 

There was a lot to the Evangelical service that was quite pleasing to be a part of.  When it’s time for the collection, people assemble in two conga lines and dance their way to the front of the stage, sometimes twirling as they make their donation into the heaping box.  The energy and rhythm of the choir and musicians was also fun to observe.  However, I found the experience, particularly the healing and deliverance portion of the service, very bizarre.  Watching this leap of faith- that a man with a loud voice, large palms, and a cup of water can heal what ails you- was watching the theatre of the absurd. 

I wrote in an earlier entry that I had no resentment toward organized religion in Ghana.  However, I admit that lately it is beginning to wear on me.  To me, when religion is at its best, when it makes sense to me, is when it is at its more personal and most humble.  Yet I find Christian Churches in Ghana are always trying to proselytize- never satisfied with their numbers, always needing to convert, to conscript, needing more to be ‘awakened’. This seems to me why Evangelism focuses so much on the presentation of their message- the incredible spectacle of it all- and less on the message itself.  The Reverend Prophet’s comment to me during the service, ‘that I be more enthusiastic’, is an example.  Who prays enthusiastically!?!?!?  It’s as if these neo-missionaries view the strength of Christianity not in its history or doctrines, but in its numbers.  The service had much less to do with the teachings and morals of the Bible than it did with seeming to enlist people in a gigantic recruitment drive.  For a religion with the most adherents in the world, Christianity seems very insecure.