It's been a busy few weeks and I've not had time to write very much.  I'm going to try to do some catching up...

If you follow this blog (thank you, subscribers!), you know that I've recently been brought in as a Chaplain to the thoroughbred horse racing industry here in Maryland. Anyway, the group I serve is about 2/3 Hispanic and, although I've been working at it, you'd still do best to consider me a non-Spanish speaker. 

But I've been working with a tutor and she's got me to the point where I'm able to do Scripture readings and pre-written prayers without causing any international incidents. The truth is that I'm just reading--if I didn't have my English notes I really wouldn't have too much of an idea what I'm saying. Kind of like Balaam's donkey.

On Easter Sunday evening, while I was stumbling through our bi-lingual worship service, one of the trainers passed away following a long bout with cancer. Later, his friends called to ask if I'd do a memorial service in the meeting room off the track cafeteria. This was to be about as low-key as you'll ever see.  No casket or ashes, no music, no flowers; just one extremely brief eulogy, and me... It was all Domingo was going to get.

So a couple of days later I found myself standing in front of about 40 strangers and I have to admit that I was relieved when my hosts advised me that I didn't need to worry--given who was present my Spanish wouldn't be necessary. But about 10 minutes into the service in walked some guys that I knew didn't speak English.  So out of respect for those five or six men, I switched over to my halting bi-lingual mode.

I have to tell you that this was a "hard" crowd -- they had come out of resprect and affection for their friend Domingo but God seemed more of a necessary inconvenience to them. (You pastors know what I mean...) And the "Anglos" stayed that way through the whole service. It was really quite sobering.

But on the other hand, as I'm standing there reading those words that I still don't really understand, the environment changed as the Holy Spirit tangibly swept over the room, and the Spanish-speakers began to weep.  Words from Isaiah 61, Psalms 130 and 23, II Corinthians 4 & 5, and John 11, words familiar to me in English but taking on a new power hearing them in this way. 

I had gone in with a service outline that said "Sermon?" not even knowing whether I should attempt it but emboldened by the Spirit's presence I spoke (in English) about how each of us would one day find ourselves in that place, about the hope that Jesus communicated to Martha, and how, while we still had life, we could come to share in that hope. The room became strangely quiet.

My fellow pastors know that once the sermon ends, a funeral service follows a pretty standard form. As a witness to our faith I follow the sermon with the Apostles' Creed. And as we began to say it in Spanish ("Creo en Dios, Padre todopoderoso...") the weeping resumed and it only increased as the service continued.  God was using my trembling, stumbing attempt at these familiar words to call these folks back to Him. 

So here's my point--and it's mainly to my fellow pastors, but y'all can listen in, too.  We say that we believe in "the power of God's Word" but how often do we really put that into practice?  When's the last time that you stood up and just let it speak for itself?

I don't claim to know all that happened there that day but here's what I know so far: the English-only speakers weren't apparently moved by anything that happened there that day. But it's since proven that God opened a door with the Spanish-speakers that afternoon. And just as with Balaam's donkey, only the power of the Word of God can be given any credit...