not a typical Sunday...

We ventured out this morning to attend a local Baptist church. We started worship with several songs. Some I knew and could sing a long with (in English) and others I could make out the words by reading them on the screen. But I could feel the spirit among these people. I'm not too sure what all was being said, but at one point during the singing we turned to 2 Timothy 4:1-8 (well at least I think that is where we were suppose to go. If not, God meant for me to read these words.)

You can whip out your Bible and read the whole passage, but verses 2-5 says: proclaim the message, persist in it whether convenient or not; rebuke, correct and encourage with great patience and teaching. For the time will come when they will not tolerate sound doctrine, but according to their own desires, will accumulate teachers for themselves because they have an itch to hear something new. They will turn away from hearing the truth and will turn aside to myths. But as for you, keep a clear head about everything, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.

I sat there and thought "wow! how appropriate." But God kinda has a knack for showing me these things at the right time. I began to think how there are so few churches here in the SS area. How the 2 girls I met with last week couldn't even stand going to church a couple of times a year. At how these people had put so much effort and time into the Carnaval this weekend. And how truly lost they are. I prayed for that small church to become the light in the area. For these Spanish to shine out in their communities, their jobs, and beyond. And I prayed that this ministry I am helping will be able to do His work, to spread the real truth.

As the service moved forward, we jumped to several different scriptures, most of which I didn't catch. I was terribly reminded at just how little Spanish I really do know. And at about an hour into the sermon, my brain could no longer function at trying its hardest to try to understand the slightest bit information. So, I sat there thinking poor Katie has no idea what's going on. And during our week of orientation they simulated a 'service' in different languages. At the time, Katie and I weren't that concerned as we were headed to an English speaking country. But alas, here we sat a month later listening to Spanish. While I couldn't understand the sermon, or over 1/2 the service, there was a beauty in the people. You could see their hearts and feel their joy. Never have I had so many people come up and greet me. But all I could muster was "My name is Jennifer" and "Si" to are you from the United States. It's at these moments I so desperately wish I could speak their language fluently. But alas, I can't. So we gave cheek kisses (where the cheek's touch) to each other and said goodbye.

While I can appreciate their service and feel the spirit among other believers, I still miss service in my own language. It's a downfall to being on the field, and one we were fore warned about in orientation. I miss gathering with friends and having discussions on Biblical matters. I miss gathering and singing worship songs. (Which we got to do in Paris one afternoon, and it so blessed my spirit.) While I wasn't happy with where I was back home, I find myself longing for a community of faith. So for now, I'll continue to listen to David Crowder, Hillsong, and have my own little worship service here in my room.