But I Do Speak Jesus

I’ve come to the end of my sixth day in Honduras. I’m not really any less awkward than when I got here at attempting to communicate, but what can I say? Yo MUCHO GRINGO?

Tonight we attended a worship service at a local evangelical church here in Santa Rosa. There was absolutely no English spoken by the worship leaders, pastor, or those voicing prayers.

And it was incredibly and disarmingly moving to me.

I’ve always been an advocate for the amazing power of music to cross cultural and language barriers, so to experience it here was tremendous. Honestly, I could have sat and just listened to the young lady that was leading the music without understanding a word she said. It was beautiful.

The music and the lively and enthusiastic singing of the people ministered to my spirit and filled a little of that emptiness that I always feel when I am away from my CalvaryDuncan family. They love Jesus. I could see it in their smiles as they extended their hand to welcome the outsiders. But nothing said it louder than their singing.

I don’t speak Spanish, but I do speak music – particularly music in worship. I worshiped tonight alongside brothers and sisters with whom I could not have a conversation.

It was especially awkward when they recognized us and asked us to stand and called us by name (thanks to our translating friend) and even pointed out that I was a pastor. But it was a sweet and genuine awkwardness.

Then as the pastor got up to speak and the powerpoint on the screen displayed the points and sub-points of his outline, I found myself understanding far more than I expected. With the further help of a friend with some strong translation skills, I rejoiced and affirmed the truth I heard proclaimed.

I was blessed. I was challenged. I was encouraged.

I went to church tonight where I don’t speak their language. And it was amazing.

It was amazing because, while I don’t speak Spanish, I do speak Jesus.

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