church

I have been going to two of the churches in town, alternating between them in no particular pattern. The first church I went to because the ADP manager invited me was started by a Korean missionary, Kwang. His three kids are great, the boys 15 and 13, and the daughter 9—one time I lent them a 500+ page book and apparently the fought over it the whole week but had both managed to finish it within 5 days. The majority of the people in attendance seem to be of the middle-aged and up group. The music is led by the missionary’s wife on an acoustic guitar and the songs are chosen as people call out the number of the song that they want to sing, then the guy at the projector scrambles to find the right one. Overall I think the service is rather consistent with the age group, toned down but reverent, filled with people sharing their testimonies to God’s work in their life.
Today I went to the other church, which is led by a Dutch missionary, Hanneke. She is about 6’4” with a disarming smile and speaks a myriad of languages, one time she started speaking to me in French only to realize her mistake a few minutes later because of the confused look I wore on my face. This church I feel is made up of a younger crowd. The worship is lively and there are even drums. You can see the energy and passionate hearts of people as they lose themselves in veneration. Like the other church, a great deal of time is given for people to share their praises, blessings, and struggles. A strength I believe in both of the churches, something that is often lost in the bigger churches I have been to.
Something exciting happened today and I heard a testimony that was pretty cool. In the middle of the service an elderly man and his wife came in and sat down next to me. A few minutes later they moved up to the front row, sitting next to a young guy wearing a red jacket and sporting a mullet. I figured they moved up there because his hearing wasn’t too good as soon after whoever was speaking decided to bust out the microphone. I learned at the end of the service that the elderly man was the young man’s grandfather and had decided to give his life over to Jesus. The grandson announced it to the rest of us, and you could see the real joy in his eyes.
Hanneke gave me a backdrop of history that gave insight and brought to life the testimony of this family. Apparently when the grandson was a young boy, his father who was a Lama (Buddhist monk) had done summoned and invoked everything he knew in his faith to try and cure his son who was severely ill. Finally, desperate, he prayed to “God of heaven” to heal his son and his prayer was answered. When he was on his death bed, he called to his son and pulled out from under his bed a book he had hidden for years. He handed it to his son saying, “this is the true book of the true God—the God of heaven.” This is what led his son to Christ. A Lama, secretly worships Jesus and gives his son a Bible in his last moments, ultimately leading to his own father being saved after his death. What a testimony!