Today I was part of a joint worship service between the Greek Evangelical Church (GEC) and Trinity Christian Community Fellowship (TCCF). These two churches, as well as the Larnaca Community Church, are some of (if not the only) Christian evangelical churches in Larnaca, and so do many things together. There is an inter-church youth group comprised of young people from all (and sometimes none) of these churches, and the enthusiasm and warmth and camaraderie seen in all these liaisons is indeed a beautiful thing. When denominations are few, things are simplified. Long drawn-out theological discussions on minute matters seem to dwindle away, and in their place come real, direct, Jesus-focused conversation and actions. It is of course not impossible for this to happen elsewhere; but in much of the worlds I have experienced, there are so many churches and so many denominations that things of little import (things that are not 'issues of salvation') grow larger and larger until they can overwhelm the things of great import.
The joint service today was a beautiful thing. The beauty I particularly experienced was in the joint singing. Those who spoke Greek, sang in Greek; those who spoke English, in English. The tune was the same, and the cadence of the words roughly similar (so that some singers were not drawing out words whilst others were moving on to the next line), but the Greek words to me were almost intelligible, and I'm sure that this experience was the same in reverse for some of the Greek-only speakers. At first I sang very quietly, not feeling very confident in singing at my usual volume when all those in the row next to me were singing strongly in another language, and there was no one sitting to my right. I felt a little alone, and on the spot. But as the singing went on, and we sang additional psalms, I began to realise that the point, as always with worship, was not about me. In one sense I am made to be beautifully irrelevant. If my singing is, in my own mind, particularly tuneful, it is changed by the voices around me. As well, if I am not singing so well, or don't know the tune, or am struggling in some way, the voices around lift me up, lift us all up to a glorified whole. I cannot be proud of my singing, for it is swallowed up in the group and the languages; and I cannot also be ashamed and put down my own singing (or sing less or not at all), because I have the help and encouragement of the believers surrounding me with their joy and their worship. Singing praise to God then becomes a truly unified experience, and 'reminiscent' of heaven, if I can use that word to explain my feelings of what I long for and hope that heaven will be. There, we will have no languages, no barriers, no Tower of Babel to prevent us. There will be no need for translation, and I will miss nothing. We will be wholly one in Christ, and we will be gloriously unimportant as we praise, because all our attention and focus and desire will be for the One in Whose honour we sing.
There were other beauties, too. The sermon was preached in sections, almost in fits and spurts, with every sentence or so translated into Greek. I loved the opportunity to actually think about each sentence preached, and have time to write down the thoughts that came. During the prayer time everyone was encouraged to pray "in the language of their preference", and the heartfelt prayers that I could not understand reminded me of the God who understands all and misses nothing. I was tempted to distraction, too, during the times of translation, or during the children's service when there was no translation (as all the children knew Greek), but when in my own language have I ever been undistracted? Even in an entirely English service I am constantly thinking of this or that thing, constantly struggling to bring my thoughts back.
Until the next world, we bear with these frailties and challenges. But there is great beauty in the unity we can have even down here, in the singing, the prayer, the kindness of those who suddenly notice that a joke has been told in Greek and they quickly translate it for others. (There was even an instance of Greek being translated into Greek, since for some dual-speakers it is hard to distinguish in the mind which language has just been spoken!)
Later this evening I went down to the Larnaca Community Church, where a roomful of young people had gathered to sing and praise together, give testimonies, and share what God had done in their lives. It was a very similar experience: concurrent singing, translated speakers, and a hall filled with people who were going to praise God together no matter what the challenges.
May you enjoy the beauty of worship today, wherever in the world you are.
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