Church is Church no matter where you are.
Worship is worship, no matter the language.
Love is love, no matter anything else.
I learned this message as the past two Sunday’s I have attended different Churches here in Costa Rica.
Today, I went to an Evangelical Church called Vision De Multitudes. I walked into the Church and my jaw dropped. The space was gigantic and full of color, it was unlike any Church I had ever attended before. The service began with an hour of praise and worship. The speakers boomed, the crowd jumped and sang at the top of our lungs, the singer amazed us all; I felt like I was at a concert!
At first, I was intimated, I didn’t know how to join in and I was too scared to attempt to sing in Spanish. However, about half way into the first song, all of those feelings disappeared. I joined the crowd and sang at the top of my lungs, even when I couldn’t pronounce the words I read on the screen exactly right, I clapped my hands, and swayed along with the music.
Then I realized: God speaks every language, love knows no language. I put my whole heart into praising and soon I found myself translating the words I was singing, which forced me to really think about the words I was proclaiming.
Today’s worship session, in a foreign language, in a foreign Church, in a foreign country, was one of the best worship sessions I have ever experienced.
I noticed that so often I can become so comfortable in my praise and worship that I don’t even think about the words I’m singing, they simply roll of my tongue and I forget the weight these words carry. But today, I had to focus my whole mind on the words I was singing (the ones I could translate anyway) and I felt the presence of the Lord, I felt His embrace and His peace in my soul.
Last Sunday, I had a similar experience as I attended a Catholic Church called Nuestra Señora del Pilar. This Church didn’t feel foreign to me, it felt like home. It was absolutely gorgeous. The walls were lined with stunning stained glass, the simple altar was lined with gold, the walls behind it were filled with the most detailed paintings.
I was reminded of how universal the Catholic Church truly is. Even though I couldn’t understand the words being said, I knew exactly what was going on. The parts of the Mass remained, the presence of the Lord was there and undeniable. I received the Eucharist and was filled with love for my faith and for my religion. I under estimated how much I missed the structure and tradition of a Catholic Mass. There’s no better way to describe it than feeling like I was home because . . .
Church is Church no matter where you are.
Worship is worship, no matter the language.
Love is love, no matter anything else.
