Day 18

Sunday again.

 Guest writer: Mike

A somewhat typical Sunday... except that we got a later start than usual and so arrived at church after most of the worship / music time was over. With the weather being as  cold as it is, we take a taxi to the center of town these days, rather than walk the 2-1/2 kilometers.

When arriving at church, we set up Solomiya's stroller in the downstairs lobby and walk upstairs to the second floor. When arriving late, the third floor (where the band is and where the sermon is given) is already packed, so the "overflow" area on the second floor is a much more comfortable space. Generally, Solomiya enjoys herself, listening to the singing and music and checking out all of the people. At some point, though, she begins to get a little noisy and Annie brings her downstairs to the lobby. Then, it's off for a ride around town for Annie and Solomiya, while Mike stays upstairs and wonders who will approach him, to see if he would like translation of the sermon from Russian into English. Usually, this duty falls to our friends Volodya, Yura or Viktor, depending who happens to be sitting nearby. A special treat is when one of the assistant pastors, Oleh, preaches; he always speaks in Ukrainian and Mike can understand much of what's being said without a translator.

It's recently come to our attention that the translation has become a distraction to some members of the congregation. I can understand this, as sometimes we sit in a place where people can hear us if they are easily distracted. So what does this mean? Do we just give up and say "we'll just have to skip the sermon, or sit through it without understanding anything until the day comes that we understand Russian completely"? Do we move to a church where they preach in Ukrainian? That is tempting, as we have many friends (including the pastor) at another church in town where the service is conducted entirely in Ukrainian.

In the end, harboring hurt feelings or contemplating running away are mere distractions - however strong - from the reason why we decided to join New Testament Church in the first place: the people. From the moment we decided in 2008 to begin the long process of moving to Uzhhorod, we felt that one item God had already taken care of for us was the choice of a new "church home". Since Mike's first visit in 2003, we had developed a number of wonderful relationships with people from New Testament, including its senior pastor, who had preached at our church in New York on more than one occasion. As we came to the very edge of our move, in early 2012, a couple of our dearest Ukrainian friends advised us not to rush into joining New Testament, simply on the basis of having so many friends there. "You need to find the church that's the right fit for you, where you know for sure that God wants you to be", they cautioned, "and you have to accept that it may be at an entirely different church. Attend a few different churches before you make a decision. Then, when you decide, put down roots and commit yourself to the pastor and the congregation". Wise words indeed, which we took to heart, even as we got ourselves dressed and ready for our first Sunday as residents of Uzhhorod back in January. On that day, we agreed that we would attend New Testament that day, simply as a means of re-connecting with many dear friends. However, a strange thing happened as we spent a wonderful three hours in church, hugging old friends, being greeted warmly by Pastor Volodya and worshipping God: we realized that this is where we belonged. We didn't say it then and there, but when we got back home and debriefed, we both realized that the Holy Spirit had stirred something inside us and that we had both "independently" come to the same conclusion; there was no further searching to do.

 Now, ten months later, when we really think and pray about it, we land at the same conclusion: New Testament Church is where we belong. And this is simply because being a member of a church is more than just being served on Sunday or even being comfortable on Sunday; it is a matter of maintaining a committed and faithful heart in a relationship with people who really love you and whom you love. It is about "making every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace" (Ephesians 4:3). More than once, the Holy Spirit has stirred my heart during Sunday worship to remember that being part of a congregation is not just going to church so you can hear good preaching; it's sharing a common bond of love for God and commitment to one another. We have felt nothing but love from our church family from day one, despite our frequent inability to say (or understand) more than a word or two from many of them. And this love has spilled out beyond the walls of the church and the mere three hours which comprise a typical Sunday service. We are loved by our church family and we commit to love back, translation or not. And we know this from our own relationship with God, whom we often do not understand, but who we know loves us deeply and whose relationship with us grows ever deeper each time we commit to love Him back and never give up loving Him and serving Him for the sake of our own comfort or ease or convenience. Love commits; love endures; love believes the best.

 And now, until such time as a set of discreet headphones becomes available, so that we can listen to a translation made from a quiet corner of the church, we make do. Today, that meant pleading with the ushers to let Mike and Yura sit in the church's downstairs cafe (normally cordoned off during the service) so that a translation could take place that would be heard by no congregants and not disturb their receiving of the Word. And it worked out fine!

In the end, it's our responsibility as new residents of our adopted home country to keep pressing on with our language studies, so that one day - by God's grace - we will need no translation at all :-)