A Typical Sunday
My Sundays are becoming
routine. That is not to say they are
boring. On the contrary, it is probably
the best day of the week. Here is a
typical day, as experienced on April 30, 2017.
I have an alarm that goes off at
6:00 every morning, but I normally ignore it.
A 7:00 alarms follows that on Sundays.
Today, I was awake before 7:00, checking Facebook and posting my daily
blog. Yesterday there was a tornado that
struck Canton, Texas, my next-door neighbor city in Texas. Several friends live there and work in
Kaufman, but praise God, all seem to be safe.
Today was a sunny day. My short walk to Starbucks at 9:00 was
blessed with sunshine, a gentle breeze, and the pink toborochis of my
neighborhood. The two best I have ever
seen are on my street.
Starbucks has become one of the
places in my circle, the places that are familiar, like home. One of the girls who waits on me knows my
name and knows what I will probably order.
I know Starbucks has some detractors among Christian Americans, but is
drinking coffee made by unbelievers really a sin? They make great coffee. To me, the naming of their sizes is quirky
and I like quirky. Maybe they don’t say
Merry Christmas, but most of America doesn’t either; probably your Starbucks
replacement doesn’t either, but you haven’t noticed that yet. I like the coffee. I like how close it is. I like the peaceful ambience.
From Starbucks, I get a taxi to church. Sometimes I must wait 5 or 10 minutes to find
one. Avenida Velarde is not so busy on
Sundays. Today I waited a mere minute or
two. Usually I pay about 25 Bs. ($3.50)
to go to church. A year ago, I thought
these guys all take crazy different routes, but now I am seeing they take about
10 different routes, that vary only slightly.
Several try to avoid the Ramada Market.
Others want to stay away from not being able to take left turns on the
Second Ring. And some want to avoid the
corner of the Doble Via and the Fourth Ring.
They all can make it in about 20 minutes most Sundays.
I often have nice conversations
with the drivers. It usually starts with
“wow it is sure hot lately,” or “what did you think about the rain last week?” That leads to enough talking that they decide
I am not Bolivian and being asked why I am here and what I think about
Bolivia. I learn a lot from these guys. They are almost always kind and encourage me
to see their country.
When I arrive at church I am
greeted by at least a dozen. I know
Jhonny from the Learning Center and Debbie, the pastor’s wife/my former
student. Other than that, I don’t remember
many of the names. One of the young men,
Gustavo, started calling me dad about a month ago. I get one of my best hugs during my entire
week from him each Sunday.
The worship part of the service
begins before everyone arrives, so they arrive to worship. Twenty might be there when it begins and one
hundred and fifty before the pastor begins his sermon. It always begins with a very energetic time
of praise, everybody clapping, and the young men who lead worship, Noel, Gustavo,
and William, dancing. Many of the young
men dance. I can imagine being here 35
years ago and dancing during this worship service.
They always transition into
worship songs that lead me into the presence of God. Today’s two songs that melted me were Anciano
de Dias (Ancient of Days) and Agnus Dei.
The second is one we have sung at Bristol. I don’t remember the words in English, but I
can’t get through it without tears in my eyes.
There is a break before the
sermon. The offering is collected, but
different than the way you imagine in the States. If you have an offering, you go to the front
and put it in the offering basket; they don’t come to you. Erika shared the announcements. There is so much going on at this church,
every single day, that they must do this.
When she was done with the announcements, she led the congregation in
reading the verse of Pastor Percy’s sermon, 2 Chronicles 12:14.
“He did evil because he had not
set his heart on seeking the Lord.”
The man who did evil was
Rehoboam, the son of Solomon, the son of David.
All scripture applies to us as well.
It doesn’t matter what family you were born into, even one like
his. If you do not set your heart on
seeking the Lord, you will stumble. You
will fall. You will choose evil.
You can tell if a church is
mature or not by what is being taught on Sunday mornings. An immature church is stuck in the idea of
giving altar calls. The preacher assumes
the people listening are lost, so he must lead them to salvation. That is what his sermons center upon. The pastor of a mature church will teach
believers how to become stronger Christians.
Strong Christians reach out to their communities, the people in their
circle. There is not the altar call calling
the lost to the kingdom, because the pastor knows he is teaching
believers. He calls them into a deeper
walk with God and more intimacy with the Holy Spirit.
I like Berea because it is just
such a church, like my home church in Bristol.
I feel inspired to walk closer to God.
I take a taxi home, often the
exact reverse of what I took getting there, meaning I spend about $7 on my
taxis each Sunday morning.
To stick to my routine, I go to Chicken
Kingdom, two blocks from my house. It is
a chain, but I think better than KFC. I
get a combo of 4 pieces of chicken, fries, and soda for $7. I usually have two pieces for lunch, save the
breast to make chicken salad for another meal, and have the drumstick and fries
for a third meal. I think 3 meals for $7
is a pretty good bargain. And it tastes great!
So that is my typical Sunday. Tell me about yours.
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