Driving to our second church service of the day, I'm sitting in the front of the van thinking about how tired I am and hoping that I will be able to gain energy before I have to preach the second of the three messages I'm going to give today.
On our way to the church we up an 85 year old woman to come with us to the church, as I see her walking from her house, slowly taking steps up the rocky driveway, she smiles and suddenly I don't feel quiet as tired.
We meet in a small room of a very old apartment complex, there are six people in attendance outside of our team, and all but one must be over the age of 75. It is around 2pm and everyone in the room looks like they are ready for a nap, though it would seem those from the church are tired for different reasons than myself and the rest of the team. For us we have spent the past ten and half months traveling the world, living out of a pack, and having the opportunity to see God work in amazing ways in and through us. For these ladies and one gentlemen, it is safe to say they have seen a lot more than I have, living in a country that was formally controlled by the Soviet Union. Perhaps being married, having children, grandchildren, and then losing some of those loved ones along the way. Working on farms or in small shops all of their lives, perhaps never even leaving the confines of Moldova if so most likely only venturing to the surrounding countries of Ukraine and Romania.
I preach on the Lord's Supper, and though this is something that growing up in the church you always know about, I've found that it has become more of a ritual or a tradition than anything else. Sure I grew up knowing that the bread represents the body of Christ that was broken for the sins of man, and that the wine represents the blood of Christ that was the perfect sacrifice that gives us the opportunity for true forgiveness.
Yet as we took the bread and wine together, this time something seemed different, and suddenly I realized that it all comes down to this. That I would not be sitting in a church in a village in Moldova, and that I would have not traveled the world in the way that I have, had it not been for Christ. The gospel of Jesus is the only reason that anything that I've done over the past 11 months truly matters, everything good and beautiful that I have seen and experienced along the way has been connected to that in some way.
The simple moments I've experienced the past 11 months all make up for something truly remarkable.
This month one of those moments was picking cherries from a tree in an elderly couples back yard and then enjoying a meal together, sharing stories with each other, and singing songs and hymns together.
There are countless moments that I can recall throughout the past 11 months, some are full of joy, and others are heart breaking, but all of them have made this journey worth it and have given me a new perspective on life. The best part is that the end of this journey simply means the start to a new one, full of it's own moments of joy, beauty, hardships, and trials. I think more than anytime before I'm ready for it.
