We're having all kinds of new experiences here. Like shopping for a church. Most of you have probably searched for a church before. The pastor's family doesn't usually have this experience. In fact, the last time Dave and I went church shopping was during seminary days in Columbia, SC.
[insert going back in time sound effect]
We walked into this big church and must have been cutting it close to starting time because we recall the sanctuary being quite full. Thankfully there were some empty rows toward the front right. We found our seats and the service began. There was a strange greet-the-visitors time when everyone else remained standing while the new people sat down. I just remember everyone towering over us speaking very loudly, "NICE TO HAVE YA'LL JOIN US TODAY". It all made sense when the sign language interpreter took her seat to face our section during the sermon...
[returning to present day]
The first few weeks here we went to Grace International Church. Great community with fellowship groups from Iran, The Philippines and Nigeria. It's a wonderfully diverse congregation. Our first Sunday Emma and I were already invited for dinner from a British diplomat's family while Dave was back in the states for meetings. What a nice welcome! The sermons are translated into German. The pastor lives below us, and we've enjoyed getting to know his family.
The easy thing would be to keep going back. But we want to branch out. To fully engage in this new opportunity to see what church opportunities there are for us. To see where we can serve and fellowship.
This morning we visited the local Antiochan Syrian Orthodox Church at the invitation of our landlord. What a fantastic experience. Hard to communicate it, so let me use a poem and some pictures to try.
Church from an Old World in My New Country
Incense and smoke sting nostrils and eyes
Boys chant scripture
Mentoring of old to young
Passing on the candle light
Holding hands, touching face, kissing Scripture
Community fellowship
Aramaic Arabic Turkish German
Notes on iPhone to speak an ancient language
Worship Jesus without words
I especially liked how the priest faced the altar most of the service.
The focus was on the cross and the Bible.
We lit our candles three times during the service, passing the light along generation to generation.
The liturgy is all in Aramaic, the language of Jesus. The church has classes on Saturdays to teach the children the language, as no one speaks it anymore. The screen had the words all in Aramaic, Arabic, German and Turkish. Darn, no English. I was thankful for the pictures that showed when I was supposed to stand, and when I was supposed to sit.
At the end of the service there was a procession of the Word and the cross.
Atilla, our landlord, showed up about halfway through the service. He laughed at us that we came for the whole thing. He said he doesn't know Aramaic, so he comes to hear the brief message (which is shared in Aramaiac, then Arabic, then Turkish) and say his prayers. Atilla then invited us to stay with his family for a special lunch they were having for the children. It was so delicious. He told us about how he met his wife (arranged by his parents) and how God changed his heart. It was such a moving story I cried and embarrassed Emma.
