This might be a shorter blog entry, but I thought it was worth its own post. This morning we made the trek just across the Belgium border and attended Antwerp International Protestant Church. It took us about 45 minutes to get there. We sat in our seats about 4 minutes before the 10:45am start time.
This congregation meets in Antwerp International School, and has done so for 30 years. They use what looks like the school auditorium for their services. We were told that this summer they did claim another meeting/office room in that building as their own, but the rest of the building is for school use.
We went there because one of Jeremy’s coworkers told him that the services are in English. And that was correct! The opening greeting and the singing was in English and it was SO refreshing. We could immediately relate to what was happening around us. I even knew a few of the songs as ones we sing in our Iowa church. Kind of a strange but wonderful feeling!
The pastor that preached today was Zeke Nelson. And guess what. He moved to Belgium about 8 years ago from California. He came to our seats before the service to welcome us, telling us where he is from and that when he was young, his grandparents lived in Davenport, Iowa. He said that he unfortunately didn’t visit his grandparents often, partly because they lived in Iowa. 🙂
The woman in front of us said that people from the Netherlands drive to their church service every week. But interestingly enough, neither she nor the pastor, nor another man we talked to, had ever heard of Goes. It is less than an hours drive, and it isn’t a tiny little burg. It has 30,000 people living in it. But, it must not be known for anything specific. Oh well.
The church is accurate in calling themselves “international.” There are over 40 nations represented in that church community. It was so inspiring to worship with so many different cultures, knowing we all recognize the one true God.
They asked visitors to stand and introduce themselves. A few introductions I didn’t understand because they simply used their own language. And everyone clapped when they were done, saying they were welcome no matter the language. It brought warm fuzzies.
The sermon was in English, but the children’s sermon was in Dutch. I caught a few words of it. The woman who read scripture before the sermon read it in English first, then in French. We were told just before the service that the leaders try to incorporate different languages each week to recognize the people of the congregation. But most of the service is in English.
So we left Belgium filled, not only by the Mary and Martha scripture and sermon, but by the communal worship that we have missed since coming to the Netherlands. We were surrounded my many friendly people from all over the world. And all of these people were focused on the faithful God that the Bible tells us about. I am thankful for this experience. We hope to go back.
