Another Sunday

December 23, 2007
(this is slightly out of order)

Warning: Extended blog today. Unique experience which required extra verbiage. Read at your own risk. Its your time so waste if you wish.....

Today we had the privilege to be guests at another local church. It was actually located in a village on the outskirts of town. We had met some of the church members last week at another church where their choir and brass band was performing. During lunch last week they had asked us to worship with them this week. Of course we were flattered and so we finalized the details late this week and met our contact this morning out on the main drag here. I couldn't remember our dude's name but I was hoping to recognize his vehicle or at least him on the street. We did see him, but he was not in the van that we expected. Instead, it was an older Lada. Now those of you up on your Eastern European car makes will know that six adults and a child cannot fit into this car. So our dude decided that he would catch a bus back to the church and allow us to ride with the unknown driver. Any questions? Where is this church? Who will meet us there? Does anybody else speak English? Are you expecting me to speak? When are we coming back? How many liters/gallon does this thing get? Do you think I could sneak one back in my luggage?

Anyway, after about a half hour of riding and very little speaking, we pulled into this village. We were clueless about the church location or what it looked like. I honestly wasn't quite sure what time the service started. But then we saw it - an ornate little building that stood out like a church should, I suppose. The driver let us out and we saw one of the gentlemen that we had met last week at the other church. Turns out that he is the pastor of this church. He is obviously a bi-vocational pastor by the condition of his hands. A very kind man who was very glad to see us. He led us into the church and offered us tea and coffee - a welcoming tradition here. We met some of the sweet little old ladies in the church they just loved on us and hugged on us and told us all sorts of things that we could not understand. We asked D to tell us, but either she did not understand or she was too embarrassed to tell. They ended up figuring out that we had adopted her - I guess the fact that she spoke their language and not ours made it an easy conclusion.

One of the ladies came up and I caught these words - internat, dochka, and Italia. She was tearing up and was obviously troubled. Turns out that she has a grand daughter at D's old orphanage and she had left to go to Italy for the holidays. I'm not sure if she was touched by the fact that we had taken D into our family or if she was missing her grand daughter. Regardless, she was so kind to us and said some of the kindest Roosky that I had ever heard (and yet not understood). Those not familiar with the language should note that it is a hateful language. Someone could be wishing you a wonderful day and if you did not understand them, you would swear that they had just questioned the legitimacy of your birth parents.

Side note: if you fancy a little bling in the ol' grill, this is the place to be. A made the comment that all the babooshkas had great "grills." Indeed, it is hard not to stare. End side note.

So I was expected to speak. Hmmm? Not really prepared for this. Good news is that they have four or five sermons per service, so if I bomb, maybe another brother can pick up the slack. Bad news is that I have to speak again. So they had brought in this lovely young lady to translate my little speech. She also translated the service for us. She did a great job and we will probably never get to thank her sufficiently. Now these people in this fellowship.... recall that we had met a few of them the week before at another fellowship where they were performing - cue harp music. We had eaten lunch in the first shift and they were eating in the second shift. As I was sipping my chai in the lobby, our dude (recall from above) asked if I would sit with them while they ate. Now recall my ant farm reference from previous post. I don't know where G and the kids got off to, but I found myself alone. Anyway they shoehorned me into a small space at the table and then the inquisition began. Now it was not hostile just curious. They all looked at me like I was an alien - I suppose that I am here. They asked all sorts of questions. The most interesting to me was the size of our church fellowship of believers. When I told them about 4000, they asked for a recount. When I stated the same again, they just stared at me in amazement. Then the pastor asked about the size of the choir. I told him that when we had one it was around 200. I didn't dare go into the whole recording of the CD thing although I really wanted to. Anyway, there I was - all alone at one end of the table while all twelve or so of them were staring at me - chicken bones in the bowls and hanging on every translated word of mine. What a weird thing. It was so funny. They have no idea what a looser I am!

So transition back to earlier today - cue harp sound effect again. I told them a little about us and where we come from and why we were here. I told them that they would have to figure which one was adopted. Now they were supposed to laugh at that and they didn't. So I reminded them that they were supposed to laugh - and they didn't. OK, we'll move on now. We read from 1 Cor 6:19. I reminded them that they were the temple of God - the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit. That as they walked through their city or at the factory, field or office that they were the church. I told them the post office story and how they were all "authorized agents" of the kingdom of God. I think it went over well. There was nodding and I even got a slovo-Bog at the end. The third guy gave me a little call back on the post man analogy. I think it went over OK, but I don't think I'll be making the comedy tour here.

So after the service, we were asked to join them for lunch. Only thing was, we were the only ones eating. Mashed potatoes, sausage on bread, pickled tomatoes and eggplant - not too bad, but I was missing the Baptist bird. They must have been Primitive Baptist. Anyway, there we were again on one end of the table and the same 10 or 12 people sitting on the other end staring at us and hanging on every word. Talk about a fish bowl. It was like we were over at a friend's house and they were all waiting for us to finish so that we could go out and play - and that was exactly it! Once we had finished our chai, they asked us to sing for them. When we told them that they were not ready for that they asked us to teach them some American games. Oh, where is Wes Sullivan when you need him! After a couple of unsuccessful suggestions, they came up with their own.

So back to the main room, rearrange the chairs and a game of Ukrainian charades breaks out. Then a clapping concentration game which we all finally gave up on and finally a rendition of Ukrainian musical chairs. This church was very hospitable to us and we enjoyed our time together more than we were expecting. What we discovered was that there were two brothers which served as a foundation for this fellowship. One brother served as pastor while the other handled the duties of worship leader. They both had families and were all talented in many ways, especially musically. Come to find out, 90% of the choir/orchestra was comprised of their family. It sniffed of other fellowships that we have been a part of in the past - not in a bad way. I was looking for similarities and my observation was that these people do life together. Their lives are bound by the blood of Christ and it was refreshing to be allowed to be a part of that for a brief time.

After the winner was declared in our musical chairs, our driver indicated that he would need to take us back and so that was it. We loaded the Lada and we were off.

Guys, I've got to tell you that one of the highlights of any of my travels is the fellowship with other believers in other cultures. It is always so humbling. I always have trouble containing my emotions. I can't help but think of the others of you that are sleeping in your beds. And the fact that we may be unaware that people on the other side of the world are worshipping when we are not.... unaware that the name of Christ is being lifted somewhere by someone... always. Isn't that amazing? So whether is is a dirt floor building in Uganda, a block building in Ecuador, an ornate chapel in Ukraine, or a modern building in the US, worship takes place and it is diverse and similar and wonderful. I highly recommend it.

So we have a bond now with two fellowships here. We know faces and a few names and we look forward to reuniting with these people again - although maybe not in this life.


Blessing to you and yours,

The Grace's