Sunday, June 19, 2011
Today was a great Sunday. The weather gave us a break from the heat with showers throughout the day. There were nice breezes and less humid air in between the showers.
The day began with breakfast at Arnold’s house, as usual. It was a heavy meal and I don’t usually each much breakfast. However, I took the advice of Jim, my roomie and “tour guide.” Jim said, “Eat well, church lasts a long time here and you don’t know when you’ll be eating again.”
I just realized I’ve not introduced Jim to you yet, allow me to correct that post haste!
Jim Fasould is an American from Chicago who has been serving as a missionary in Barcelona, Spain for over 40 years. He will be 70 years old in December but can run circles around most folk. He is energetic and gregariously friendly. He is the founder of the Spanish Bible Institute & Theological Seminary in Barcelona, and he and his wife have served that community together for almost all of their married lives. In fact, Jim and Carolyn celebrated 46 years of marriage today via cell phone. He is here helping the seminary organize their operations. He has been working with them to write job descriptions, org charts, policies, and procedures. He has quite the mind for organizing things, and works on his computer tirelessly.
Jim and I are sharing a two bedroom duplex, and we’ve had great conversations during our down time. He is a good bit more conservative that I am theologically, which makes sense because he comes out of the independent Bible Church tradition in Illinois. But my core belief and practice is that I will partner with any Christian who is willing to work with me, and so our conversations and efforts here at the seminary seem to be mutually edifying. I brought the bug spray he forgot, and he’s got the ibuprofen stash that I forgot (and have desperately needed to break the headaches I’ve had from no caffeine). He's truly an enjoyable guy and we're making for pretty good roommates, at least from my perspective. My snoring doesn't bother me, but I dont' know if it bothers him.
So back to my notes on the day.
On the way out the door we met our neighbors in the duplex. They arrived on Friday night and they are from Western Canada. They are doing mission work in Ghana on behalf of the Church of the Nazarene, and their work is branching out into Liberia. The Dorothy Pryor Baptist Compound is used to host missionaries such as them, so they are staying here while they work in the Nazarene churches nearby. John, their group leader, was on the porch this morning and in a brief conversation I learned that they train pastors and lay leaders to be more effective in ministry.
The drive to Salem Baptist Church was through Monrovia, my first really good look at the city. I’ll be posting pictures as soon as I get back (the internet connection is too slow here to spend hours posting photos that will take just a few minutes from home. Again – infrastructure). The city is like any third world metropolitan area. It has a high density of population, and the accompanying trash and filth that goes with lots of people packed into one area.
Road conditions range from good to horrible. At one point on the road we slowed down to maneuver through some giant pot holes (mortar hit??) that stretched the width of the road. Each of the holes were 1-2 feet deep and filled with muddy rain water. In the middle of the street three men were shouting for drivers to give them money saying, “Give us the money, we will fix the road when we get enough money for materials.” Those same guys have been there for years, I’m told, and the wads of cash they collect don’t seem to be enough to fix the road!
Salem Baptist Church, where I preached this morning, is one of the historic congregations of Liberia. It is located in Brewerville and it’s the home church of Olivia Hill, wife of Arnold Hill, the LBTS president. Today was Women’s Day, and all the women wore yellow. It was quite a stunning sight from the pulpit, I must admit, to see all those dark skinned women dressed in delicate and vibrant yellows. I get the feeling God noticed them, too, not just because of their eye-catching yellow dresses and hats, but also because of the passionate worship they offered. Among the men and the women there was dancing, singing, clapping, shouts of joyous praise, and, I believe, the wails of release of pent up frustration and disappointment. I don’t think it was manufactured and I do think the Spirit of God was present.
I envy these folk in at least one regard: they are able to let it all out in worship. This reserved white guy hung in there clapping and singing the songs I knew. I even managed to pull off a reasonably impassioned sermon to match their expectations. But I suppose that, at the end of the day, I’m somewhat stoic in my worship. There is likely a subtler point here that I debate taking the risk to reflect on here fully.
I’ll say this much: I’m not sure my faith is deep enough to worship with their zeal and passion. Maybe it’s the years of intellectualization of my religion. Perhaps it’s part of the waning and waxing of my intimacy with God. We say that baptism is an outer expression of an inward grace, so maybe worship is an outer expression of the inner workings of belief. If that’s so, then the inner workings of my belief need some tinkering.
A holy nap followed worship today, then dinner as usual at Arnold and Olivia’s house. Monday holds a day of working with the writers, editing their stuff, and seeing where we stand for work on Tuesday.
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