No, I'm not talking about my family tree. I'm talkin' church. My congregation blows me away. With regular attendance of about thirty people there are at least twelve nationalities represented. Twelve! That's a lot. Today though, really made me happy.
Opening prayer said in Greek by a Belgian. Sacrament prayers said in two different languages. Greek and English. We sang hymns all sacrament meeting. The Chinese girl told us about her favorite "shong," I Am a Child of God. Got to one hymn that confused the pianist. She only knew it in Finnish. Not like that affected her playing, but she likes to sing along as well. The closing hymn was chosen by a Pakistani, an American conducted the music, and the closing hymn was said in Chinese. (I think...) Then we had a potluck. Chili, Portugese lasagna, and Chinese dumplings were just a few of the options available.
What I am loving the most about this congregation is that I really have to learn to listen to the Spirit. Sometimes a speaker's accent is so thick, I can't understand the words. But I get what they are trying to say. It really shouldn't anymore, but it amazes me how universal the gospel is. No matter where I go, the gospel is the same. Same sacrament prayers, same structure to the meetings, same good people, same Spirit.
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