Love Speaks Korean
I had dinner tonight with a Korean family who have been attending my church. It was a wonderful and interesting time. I'll have to admit some of the food was a bit different. For instance, the fish on my plate stared at me with fried eyes. Various cuts of meat were cooked upon a grill stationed in the middle of the table. I was shown how to place the meat upon leaves of romaine lettuce, doctor it with various spices, wrap it tightly and put the whole ball of food into the mouth at one time. And I struggled mightily with the chop sticks, usually ending up having to speer the pieces of food. My new friends seemed to watch intently as Deb and I tried to respectfully dine. Perhaps they were piqued by our crude table manners, but I think they were immersed in making sure we enjoyed our meals. And we did!
The young couple spoke very little English, although they seemed to understand most of what I had to say. A matronly lady was the hostess. She has a beautiful home, immaculately clean, with white carpets upon which you would dare not wear shoes. As we dined, she told me why she has been coming to my church. Her son was having troubles. He somehow programmed his GPS unit to find a church, and it somehow directed him to my little church. Apparently, this was the first non-Korean church she has attended. And they have continued to come- Sunday mornings and nights, Wednesday evenings. We continued to talk for a good bit. Much of what they had to say I found difficult to understand, and I am sure they struggled similarly with me. But all was enjoyable. When it was time to go, the custom was not handshakes and hugs, but a smile and slight bow of deference/reverence to one another. I've never done so before, but it seemed rather appropriate at the time.
I grew up in a small town whose only cultural diversity was black and white, and we did not handle that very well. Now I find myself in a melting pot of cultures. My church is a bit of the same mixture. Tomorrow I'll go to Rosa's shop for a haircut. She is a friend who periodically attends my church with her two children. She is from San Salvadore. Next week I'm leaving for a week of vacation. Winston will preach for me. He is an active church member and respected friend, from Jamaica. And when I have computer needs, I go to Albert. He has a computer shop and a restaurant. He and his wife are from Taiwan. I baptized them several years ago. We've done a pretty good job of just being a church; not worrying too much about nationalities or skin colors.
Seven years ago, at another church, Mr. Phil sat down to try to “talk some sense into me”. He told me it just was not appropriate for blacks and whites to dine at the same table. The same with church, he said.I was so taken aback I did not know what to say, except to shake my head and reply sadly, “I feel sorry for you.”
I wonder what Phil would think about me now?
I know why these folks keep coming to my church. It sure is not because of the dynamic preaching. They probably do not understand much of what I have to say. They come because they know they are loved. They want to spend time with me because they sense that I like them. And I am convinced that is a good thing. For most of my life, I have been conditioned to believe that my job is to preach and administrate. And that was wrong. Now, I am convinced, my job is to love people. Is not that the best kind of preaching?
I guess Phil would not like all of this. By I'll bet Jesus would smile and say, "Pass the sushi, please." And I'd rather have dinner with Jesus, than Phil.
