Today, we went out to a couple of the village churches. These are the places that you’d never see from a tour bus. Our first stop was Patasi; the church there meets in a one-room schoolhouse — openings cut out in the walls for doors and windows. When we pulled into the village, children started running to meet our car—and they seemed to come from everywhere. As our service started, the kids hung through windows and piled three deep at the doorways—fascinated but silent observers.
When the service began, the music filled the room—a couple of women leading the singing, with their babies tied to their backs—two young men beating out the rhythm on a pair of drums. When I return home, I will definitely miss the fervency of the worship here.
Leon, Dad and I each had a chance to share a few words of encouragement with the believers there. What is beautiful and incredible to me is that though I have never met these people, we are nevertheless part of the same family, and carry the same citizenship – and only because Christ himself has joined us – He himself is our peace. It’s the only gospel that can save, and it’s the only gospel that can truly destroy walls of race and prejudice and hostility. I am so encouraged by that!As we left Patasi, the church members piled our trunk full with pineapples, yucca, oranges, avocadoes, bananas and palm nuts. I was reminded of the Macedonians who in their poverty, abounded in their generosity, giving even beyond their ability.
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