Foreign Soil, Familiar Truths
Saturday evening, 6:30 p.m. We walk up the stairs into the compound where we meet, face mask on (as always), and present “green status” on our country’s COVID-19 tracking app to the man at the door (again, as always). After that, we’re free to enter the place where we gather for worship. That’s the routine every week – or at least it has been the last three that I’ve been here.
Children included, there are maybe 50 people in the congregation. There seem to be several nationalities represented in the room – many more than I’m aware of, I’m sure. Most of us (like myself), are strangers in this land. And it does feel strange sometimes… to live in a place where you don’t even know your own address nor how to go about figuring it out. Most days you just decide it’s simpler to go another day not knowing, and that tends to work just fine. You know how to find your way back home, and that’s what matters at the end of the day, right? But I digress.
There’s a simple worship team up front, and they start the service by welcoming us and inviting us to stand and sing. A keyboard, a bass guitar, (sometimes) an acoustic guitar, and a vocalist, plus the 40- or 50-some-odd voices of those scattered throughout the room – and it’s some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. There’s nothing particularly special about the band (don’t get me wrong – they are talented, but that’s not the point), and there’s nothing extraordinary about the sound system, if you’d even call it that. What is special, though, is the sound of all our voices resounding as one.
O sing, hallelujah!
Our hope springs eternal
O sing, hallelujah!
Now and ever, we confess
Christ, our hope in life and death
I stand and sing until I can’t for fighting back tears. Then I stand and listen, heart overwhelmed in the best possible way. You can hear it in their voices, see it on their faces, and feel it in the room that these people believe what they are singing. It’s not just a song; it’s a declaration – to God, each other, ourselves, and the world. Now and ever, we confess Christ, our hope in life and death. That’s why we’re here. And in God’s sovereignty, we’re here together in this country, this city, this church, proclaiming precious, familiar truths on foreign soil. Surely only through Christ can one feel at home in a room of total strangers! It's His blood that bought us and His love that binds us together in perfect harmony (Col. 3:14). "Family of God" has a deeper, sweeter meaning to me now, and I know this is only the beginning.