Church for All Nations

I was able to visit some of the new Congolese families yesterday. I think it is going to be hard to figure out how the work among them will happen, but I believe it will happen. They are simply overjoyed to have someone speak to them in a language they are used to hearing. I wonder how hard it is going to be for them to get acclimated to life in Lexington. They are refugees from the terrible war and massacres in Congo, so it’s not simply immigration to find a better life. It’s to save life and adjusting from that to a very strange culture can be hard.

It’s counter-intuitive work, as well. It’s not a ministry that can really bring the rewards that churches look for. The numbers won’t be huge, either in terms of attendance or money. I think the clear answer is that those measures condemn us if they keep us from real ministry. Friends, this is why the Gospel is not practical-- if it works because it’s a naturally attractive and productive thing, we will boast that we did the work!

America is in a golden age of immigration. Hispanics are only a part of that. To all my pastor friends and members of churches: do not miss this chance to reach out to a huge part of the population. We missed it in the early 20th century, and it is no surprise that our churches are fading. We totally missed that the demographics of the nation were shifting. We totally missed the missionary and evangelistic impulse of the Spirit. I fear that if we miss this latest chance to minister, we will fall even more into the system of bureaucracy that knows only how to manage dying churches. Maybe you can hold on long enough for your pension funds to last your lifetime…

The Lord does not rest! Many of you know how 10 years ago as I kept running into Russians in Lexington, I tried to minister to them, begging the District to do something, anything, to reach out. It didn’t happen, and I vowed that if it happened again, that the Lord placed people in my path that perhaps I might be uniquely qualified to minister to that I would not let the chance go by. So, the Congolese are here, and I never thought speaking French would be much use in Kentucky.

When I got to Louisville, it seemed I met Ukrainians everywhere. I took that as a sign from the Lord, looked for someone to teach me Ukrainian (enough like Russian that I should be able to pick it up fairly quickly), found a woman who would. But it wasn’t going to jibe with were I was, so I had to let it go, and I trusted (kind of) that when I left Louisville, something would happen.

But I was worried. Why did the ministry to Ukrainians fail? What happened such that it was not going to be possible? What about the time I put into learning? How does ministry get so skewed that we can’t pursue what is of God? And if my vow had to be let go like that… There was a lot of soul-searching. You can spot Hispanics and Congolese people pretty easily. But Russians and Ukrainians, they look enough like us to blend in. I was not running into them by chance any more in Lexington.

Yesterday in John’s classroom, in a little Christian school in Shelby County, KY, I heard his teacher ask another boy, “has your mommy gotten back from the Ukraine?”

I made a note to call his parents. Last night, I did. His mother is Ukrainian, will be back in a few weeks. The boy’s father said she would love to meet with me, teach me Ukrainian and connect with some of the Ukrainians I know in Louisville.

Ruben and I have been worrying about our name, The Rock La Roca. Does it communicate that we are only Anglo and Hispanic? We joke about just having a symbol, being like Prince, “The Church Formerly Known As…” But something hit me earlier this week-- in for a penny, in for a pound. English and Spanish are our two languages. Ruben and I are the pastors. If we get labelled, so what-- that’s not our problem. But if we hedge ourselves in and say because I am Anglo and Ruben is Hispanic that we can’t minister to African-Americans or Congolese or Ukrainians or whatever, then we have much bigger problems than a name. No matter the language, who we are is who we are.