The Awkward, Beautiful Mess

Last night our local Thai church celebrated their 13th anniversary. Even though we have begun to worship elsewhere on Sunday mornings (to have worship/fellowship in our own language), we still feel deeply connected and find our lives intertwined outside of Sunday worship. As we cooked food and prepared for the celebration, we were excited and honored to join the festivities.

Unfortunately I injured myself shortly before the party and had to arrive late on crutches. Sixty people were crowded cross-legged on the floor of the living room where the church normally meets. Seeing my disability, a friend graciously offered me a chair near the door looking over the group.

I sat wondering how to position myself. How do I not get in the way of the worship team? Or not block the entrance? Or not point the bottom of my foot at the whole church—an action in Thai culture akin to using the middle finger?! A chair in a sardine-packed room is a place for the honored. Why should I sit there?

As the celebration progressed, I felt the full messiness, awkwardness, and beauty that accompanies so much of cross-cultural ministry.

MESSY because I’m attempting to sing along with the Thai script I see projected on the wall. I can only keep up with half of the fast-paced, complex words. 

AWKWARD because I am functioning in a culture that is not fully my own. I don’t always know how to respond to the dozens of culturally awkward situations we find ourselves in every week.

But mostly BEAUTIFUL because in this moment of worship, our hearts are united by the Holy Spirit’s undeniable presence. Tears of joy run down my face, seeing tangible reminders of all God has done. Nobody is concerned if his jubilantly-loud voice is not in perfect pitch. No one is judging my fumbled lyrics. When my words are lacking, my heart is still singing.

Some days I see fruit in ministry. Other days I just pray no one trips over my own weaknesses. That’s when God reminds me that weakness is ok. I was never meant to be the focus of the work anyway. God is. And was. And will be long after I am gone. My job is just to be available. It is a privilege to join in a tiny piece of the great work that He is doing here. May God use our beautiful, awkward messes.