A RICH DAY, INDEED....

I like to go to church.

  It keeps me centered and grounded at the same time.  It gives me peace and joy in both my heart and soul.  The music is beautiful and brings the message to heart.   The prayers guide me and remind me of how blessed I am, and my obligation to the world. How can one go a day or a week or more without that assurance?  

I love attending worship in foreign countries.  It's as much a part of the experience as it is the spiritual lift I need at that time.   There are no Presbyterian churches in Panama.  Most, of whom I enquired, had never heard of us.  The country is declared Roman Catholic,

but all readily agree that most of the population are not "religious" and do not attend church.  There are a smattering of Bible churches, "Christian" churches, and a fair amount of Hindus, Buddhists, Latter Day Saints, and Jews.  

I found an historic non denominational church, the Balboa Union Church, which, like the Canal, was formed 100 years ago to serve the diverse population of "Zonians", people living here and working on the canal.  

My Panamanian best friend, Victor, drove me, and the short ride afforded us some time to share our faith.  I will probably never see him again, but this short time was sweet and we go away adding another of God's touches to our lives.  

The service was simple, familiar.  The sanctuary large, airy, windows open to the small hills just outside.  

There is no air conditioning, but the breeze was pleasant.

 All of the small congregation took me in.  As in other Latin American countries, I was an honored guest.   There was Martha May, friendly, talkative, an American living in Panama for 20 years.  There was Miss Connie, a sweet black lady from Barbados.  There was the family from Argentina, she a teacher, he a business man.  There were Spanish speaking attendees, as well.  The service is Bi lingual.  Pastor Schnell is from Germany and is "a bit Lutheran" .   His accented English and Spanish was delightful.  They shepherded me around, introduced me privately and publicly, brought me coffee and bread, and invited me to a small jazz concert to be held that afternoon at the church.  I already had begun to rearrange my afternoon plans...  

The concert was amazing.  A small group of 4, playing together for the first time, practicing, as you will, on us.  There was a strong rhythm guy, drumming Panamanian style on a box, a keyboard , an elec guitar, and a large black guy reminding me of New Orleans or Chicago blues, who blew the heck out of his trumpet.  "In the power of your love", "Joyful, joyful", "How great Thou Art", in a distinct Latin American/blues/jazz style.  Alternately had us stomping and singing along, and listening intently with tears.

Victor (my new best friend..) picked me up, and we spoke again of faith and what moves us and how God can work in lives.  I hurried back to the opening reception for the nurses.  I missed the hors doeurvres, but I was filled in other ways!  

And again, the thought that brings a smile to my face, all this, and I shall probably never pass this way again.  How rich indeed.