All over the globe we have been traversing. From country to country and church to church to church.
Some churches along our journey had to be discreet. One in Morocco met quietly in a home for a few hours, with singing and praise that was then banned by the landlord for being Christian and not Muslim. The Church was taken in for questioning, but they were still imitating Christ, and still following the commands, “Love God, love people.”
I noticed their hunger to share as they gave me advice on how to bring up Jesus to Muslim strangers on busses.
We met in a giant church service in Paris; headsets as translators. Wealthy, in the heart of the City of Love, but the church outside of the four walls? We saw rarely. So could you call it the church? Or was the church the one or two of the thousands of attendees who showed up at the refugee camps and around the city. With such a big opportunity to share the gospel, where were those to share?
They seemed comfortable.
We went to a small young adult gathering in Cyprus.
Students from all over the world came to this house, with the food and candles set up, much like American small groups. There was such a curious nature in these students, a desire to ask questions.
We went to eat afterwards and I listened as a guy from Afghanistan told me that he had a difficult time believing in God at first because someone told him God was like a father, and if that was the case, he wanted nothing to do with Him. His own father named him and his siblings…almost all boys, “A1, A2, A3, A4” and he was A6. But he told me excitedly how He came to know jesus despite cultural implications, and persecution, through a professor at his university in Cyprus.
Another girl, from Iraq, shared how she had come to know Jesus after He revealed Himself to her seeking sister. Then her brother went to church and encountered Jesus for himself. Then she and her mother, who was a dedicated Quran educator, became followers . Only just a year ago, the father of the household became a believer and now their whole family knew the Messiah! She told me how they hid books of the Bible in taxis because sharing the gospel was illegal in her country. When they ordered new and old testaments they asked for “big” or “small” cookies over the phone. It was so secretive but they were bursting with a desire to make Jesus known one way or another; her mother still lives there and she said she worries because her mom will go up to anyone and start sharing with them about what Jesus did in their life, which is life threatening.
There was this impulse to share their stories, their testimonies.
Then we came to a newly formed international church in Batumi.
And a Georgian church.
These were more western churches, with music, a message, and chatting afterwards. But what I saw in the long term missionaries was the church community Jesus desires for us… eating together, praying and worshipping together, having fun, and doing day to day life together. They worked hard in their community to love the unseen, the women in trafficking, and the poor and broken.
They had a desire to make His name known.
And we lived inside a Jordan church.
Every month each person from their missionary workers would have over thirty Syrian house visits. And they meet with these families every month, for years. Day and night, the church was going, loving, and representing Christ. A large cross on the front of the gate faced the Muslim communities streets. Everyone around knew, the “church” and they held an upstanding reputation with the community for being generous, kind, and loving. It was a genuine community. Doesn’t mean it was perfect, but it was following Holy Spirit.
They never tired of sharing.
But then there were those who came for Sunday morning and were unseen the rest of the week… they came to be fed and left early.
Comfortable.
Spain…El Camino.
You see lots of buildings, lots of religious iconography.
Dry.
But along the way we saw one or two members who were finding ways to represent Christ. One lovely man gave us free apples and let us use the restroom when we got to the church early for a place to stay. I went into this small, humble building, and looked around and immediately was surrounded by the peace of God. You could pick up a list of beatitudes and remind oneself about the simple things in life. It was a sanctuary.
They were in tune with Jesus.
Doesn’t matter what denomination, what culture, what traditions, what practices or methods, the common thread in these churches was whether the church had a desire to go out and love others as they love God.
The church must go out. It must always be loving people. It must be reaching or doing something. If it’s stagnant, it’s not the church.
If I’ve learned anything this last month it’s that God WANTS to give me the hunger to share. He wants to encourage me to wake up and not shut up about Him. He wants me to feel so overwhelmingly loved, that I can’t contain my joy. He wants me to be compelled to share.
If we’ve been fed, the only way to continue growing is to put His truth into action and learn.
I love the different churches around the world, and the unity that sprouts forth. You can go anywhere and immediately have a family. But the ones that were most radical, were the most inspirational. I’ve been asking God for a hunger or thirst to know Him more and more. And that this would get stronger everyday. I pray that I’d never grow stagnant, and that I would be compelled to share Him each day, like the girl from Iraq. Like the people in Jordan sharing with Syrian refugee families everyday. Like the missionary family from Australia sharing with people they meet in Georgia. Like the people in Armenia who care for disabled orphans and drug addicts. I pray to hunger for God so I can be hungry to share with those He loves more and more. I am inspired by seeing the church in action around the world, but sad seeing the complacent church around the world. So many opportunities surround us, and we get to grab them and make Him known :)! Thanks for reading !
