DAY 9

Yawn!  Stretch!  We had slept in a little and this felt wonderful!  Now we needed to get moving, as we had about a 45 minute drive to the Gila River Indian Reservation for Sunday School at 10 am.  We dressed much like for our own worship service back home-jeans, polo shirt/capris and nice top.  Following the brief directions from the pastor’s wife, who are also staff at the Southwest Indian Ministries Center, we were actually the first ones to arrive at the church.

Rather than wait in the parking lot for others to arrive, we decided to drive around the reservation a little.  We drove further south on the main road and turned right onto paved roads.  The housing was similar to Canadian First Nations’ housing:  nearly identical frame houses.  The main differences were that Arizona homes rarely have basements (slab foundations) and they all have an attached carport.  The houses in this village area were fenced, some had a dog sleeping in the morning sunshine, and most had furniture and toys in the yards.  We saw one or two that were boarded up and abandoned.  Because the roads were paved, this neighbourhood looked more urban than reserve-like.

We headed back and again saw the church parking lot empty.  So we wandered up by the casino, which was right on the line where the town of Laveen and the Gila River Rez bordered each other.  The beautifully paved, winding roadway was lined with cactus plants and palm trees and a neatly groomed boulevard separated the two lanes.  After nearly two miles, we arrived at a vast parking lot with signs indicating shaded parking in a parkade.  It was early on a Sunday morning, so things were quiet at the casino.  We turned around, thinking it was nearly 10 o’clock, and figured the pastor and his wife would be there by now.

Just as we turned in to the Siloam Indian Baptist Church graveled parking lot, Steve and Debbie were hauling items into the church building.  They smiled and greeted us.  Debbie had chatted with us the day or two before and remembered we thought we would join them for worship.  But she hadn’t mentioned it to her husband.  So Pastor Steve shook our hands and said, “Now , I know you look familiar and I should know you from somewhere…”  We laughed and explained who we were and we followed Steve into the church. 

It was a slab building, cool on the inside with stucco walls.  The modern chairs were set out in rows.  Native print curtains covered the windows.  What struck me was the magenta/deep lilac concrete floor!  It suited the southwest environment and was certainly more appealing than our standard grey painted floors.  We chatted briefly with the Cartwrights as they set up and then a few people came in. 

Only half a dozen adults were there for Sunday School and about that many kids went in a back room with a set of parents who taught the children.  The church van was broken down so not as many children were there this particular Sunday.  We sat scattered about the sanctuary, while an older Native woman seated herself on a stool behind a music stand and arranged her book and papers.

Someone opened in prayer and Priscilla began reading the lesson.  It was on the Prodigal Son, but she emphasized that it was also about the Older Son.  They both had issues.  The real heart of the story is about the Father’s love and willingness to receive His loved ones when they return.  Priscilla shared some thoughts and examples from her own life and the community around them. Several in the class took turns reading the Scripture from the lesson book.   A couple people came in the doors for the worship service and soon Priscilla closed the Sunday School lesson.  The service would start shortly after the Sunday School.  We got up from our seats and greeted people, shaking hands much like the Cree or Saulteaux would do back home.

Three men arranged themselves in chairs at the front of the church, with guitars and music stands.  Pastor Steve was one of the guitarists. Priscilla sat with them holding a gourd shaker instrument.  The gentleman who had taught the kids’ Sunday School class stood at the podium and welcomed everyone.  By this time, one of the women had handed out song books to about 20 or 25 people who were now seated in the congregation.

Everyone sat as we sang two old familiar hymns.  Then Mike gave the announcements and a few others piped up with announcements of their own for the week.  One of the boys passed around a Native woven basket to take up the offering.  Then it was prayer request time.  A few spoke up with prayer needs and Debbie, the pastor’s wife, wrote them down and then prayed for them all.  Next,  Mike led in the “sharing” time, where if anyone had a testimony, a Scripture or a song to request or sing as a special number, they could share it with the church family. 

Walter and I both commented to each other how this felt much like a sharing Sunday out at the Jacob Bear Fellowship near Broadview, Saskatchewan.  The hymns and old choruses were almost identical to the songbooks that our fellow-missionaries, Brig and Chris would use in their services.  It was a cool atmosphere as most of the sharing was very open and real.  This portion of the worship time lasted almost an hour and was a core part of the event.  (The pastor told us later that this is similar to how a wake service at a funeral would be structured.)

Pastor Steve came down to the front, not to stand at the podium but to sit on the stool and used the music stand for his notes and Bible.  He preached a simple yet practical message from Psalm 1.  It was such a blessing to hear this man’s heart for the Scriptures and his love for his flock as he shared the application of being in God’s Word and not being led away or astray by the influences of the ungodly and the unhealthy.  He must have finished preaching about 1 pm but we weren’t really checking the time.  We were just enjoying the experience.

We chatted with a few folks and sort of waited around while the Steve and Debbie said their good-byes and tidied up the sanctuary.  Then we asked if they had lunch plans and agreed to meet at the nearby “Jack in the Box” for a quick meal before they went on to their afternoon/evening commitments.  We heard their stories and their plans for the next year.  We could relate to so much of their challenges and their joys.  We agreed to be “friends” on Facebook so we could keep in touch.

It was already after 3 pm and we meandered our way back to Peoria.  

We hoped to find a place to get an oil change but none were open on Sundays.  The day was another warm and calm one and we could have taken a walk but instead, we vegged in our suite until I needed to eat.  We didn’t have much except breakfast type foods so we went out to hunt.  As much as we tried to eat somewhat healthy, we gave in to the “In ‘N’ Out Burger” place nearby and I splurged on fries and a chocolate milkshake.  It tasted great!  Another beautiful day in Phoenix and we had a whole week ahead of us to enjoy!