The people face forward, sitting silently in plastic chairs. A man rises from his seat and militaristically makes his way to the front of the room. He sings.
From the front to the back, a basket weaves through the people in the plastic chairs and they place small amounts of money in it. It's at this point on Sunday morning that I'm invited to share my story. I am supposed to share about how I came to know God and came to be in a small church in a mountain village in northern Thailand.
But all morning I have been distracted by what I'd seen last night.
I rise to speak.
***
We were invited to a party the night before. We were invited to a party by an 80-year-old woman.
This woman was the first Christian in her village, and she has held steadfastly to her faith even as some of her friends and family have alienated her. Now she finds herself the center of a new and thriving community. On Saturday nights, the Christians in her village gather to cook what they call the pizza of their village.
We walk into the dirt-floor, thatched-roof house and are welcomed by bows and the bustle of people moving out of their seats and to the kitchen so that we can sit and they can serve us water. The pastor arrives with a guitar, and he and the youth sing for us. Then our group sings for him. Then the pastor shares about what God has been revealing to him through the Word during the week.
After about half an hour, we move outside to grill the "pizza." It's sticky rice with sugar. Everyone who isn't cooking is huddled around the fire, rubbing their hands together in the warmth and sinking further into their scarves and toboggans. We move back inside to eat, but most of the villagers remain in the cold. From inside the thin walls, we can hear them laughing and we can hear the songs they're singing and the conversations they're having — even though we don't understand a word of it.
It isn't until we are climbing into the truck that I realize what we've left.
***
I tell the group of less than 20 part of my story. But mostly I share with them about the importance of family. I have two families at home, but I've left them both to meet more of my family around the world — my brothers and sisters in Christ.
I tell them that God looks at us and sees us as brothers and sisters if we share the same faith, and that I feel the same way.
After I'm through, another man rises to speak. He clutches his Bible, quotes verses and cracks a few jokes. The people nod; the children nod off. The pastor sits. The first man rises again and sings one more song. The people rise. The people leave the Church building.
But when did they really have Church: Sunday morning or Saturday night?
