Morning dawns hot and humid. Just like every morning in Southeast Asia. Unless it’s raining. In which case it’s hot, wet and humid. Today is sunny, and the lens of my phone is fogged.
There’s a theological discussion occurring on the front porch when I make my way out with tea to wake up and prepare for the day ahead. Is the Israel of news reports today the same thing as the Israel of the Old Testament? Important questions to ask, and Pastor Roeske deftly talks about theology and term definitions and other important elements of the question. And then it’s time to get ready. I’m not entirely sure what for, but it’s Reformation Sunday and for the Lutheran members of the mountain tribes of Mindanao, this is a big deal.
Twenty four congregations, give or take, will assemble together in San Roque for Reformation worship today. First there is a parade through the town.
And while it starts fairly defined in two lines, one for men and one for women, as we meander the 300 yards or so back and forth through town, the sun and conversation and waving to friends and neighbors shuffles the lines a bit, relaxes them. Everyone is more than ready to head back to the open air gymnasium where somewhere close to 500 people will eventually gather to receive the gifts of God in Word and Sacrament. I have been given the honor of preaching for this occasion, translated by Pastor Roeske. Pastor Jello and Pastor Michael are co-officiants in charge of Holy Communion. Both graduated from Lutheran Theological Seminary in Baguio, Philippines. I am happy for their matriculation, but sad it occurred before I started teaching there. I would have enjoyed interacting with them in classes.
What do you tell a crowd of 500 people you’ve never met before on Reformation Sunday? Men and women and children whose lives are so vastly different from your own you can’t even begin to wrap your head around it? Who speak a different language? Satan whispers the obstacles are so immense. What’s the point? What’s the use?
So you block out Satan and give them Jesus. Over and over again. Jesus first. Jesus only. And then you sit down and let those who do speak the language and share a culture and history with them place the body and blood of Jesus in their mouths.
It’s not rocket science. It’s the Gospel. It’s more than enough. It always has been. It always will be.
And since that’s the case, we can enjoy lunch afterwards. Along with singing competitions and performances. Bible quizzes. Bible passage look-up quizzes. And of course basketball. And yes, for the first time in probably 25 years I was blessed to help out in a game of full-court basketball in 90+ degree heat and 90%+ humidity wearing two shirts, one of which is at least four sizes too small for me. I’m sure there is photographic evidence of this travesty but blessedly I don’t have any on my phone and therefore will not subject you to it.
But it was fun nonetheless.
At the end I joined in some volleyball practice with some of the youngsters, something a bit more in my wheelhouse and I could do a reasonable job of redeeming my former athletic abilities. And then it was nearly dark. Time to go home. Time for a nap. Time to reflect on a Reformation Sunday unlike any I’ve ever known or likely ever will. On the goodness and grace of God the Father in Jesus Christ that touches even these remote villages the world knows nothing about. On the fact that even I can be a part of this grace, and the joy of meeting a few more of the people I pray to share eternity with. Not because of my sermon but because of the brutal realities of sin and the cross and blood shed and a God-man buried and then broken free of death forever.
More than enough for one day. Sleep is a blessing. Tomorrow the teaching begins.
The Nelson Family Indonesia 