Finding a church in Lupeni has been hard for us. However, in the last few months, Jack and I have settled in to Biserica Bethel, a small Pentecostal church on the outskirts of Lupeni. We chose it because it was small, because it was friendly, and because, unlike another church we visited, it didn't have any enormous paintings of Bermuda in the front of the sanctuary (I think it's meant to symbolize heaven, but still, it weirded me out). We also chose it because there are a lot of Roma (Gypsy) people who attend Bethel. In the States, one of the things we treasured most about our church community was its intentional commitment to racial and ethnic diversity, united in the body of Christ. We didn't want to worship at a church where Roma people were excluded, or where we heard derogatory things said about them -- so that left us at Bethel.
Most of the time I like it there. Occasionally there will be a service where there's just too much prophesying and speaking in tongues going on for my comfort, but that's the American Midwestern evangelical/mainline Protestant in me. I appreciate that this church prays actively for the sick and those out of work, and that people from the church spend a lot of time visiting with and praying for those who are bedridden or ill. There are a lot of people who don't have work in our church, and they're transparent about their needs. They are kind and friendly and welcoming to us, and we've met many wonderful people. And I am thankful for that.
Mostly, though, I like Bethel services for one thing: the singing. See, the worship style for the service we attend usually includes a long "open mic" portion, where anyone who feels led can get up from their seat, go to the front of the room, and lead worship -- singing, reciting poetry, reading Scripture, whatever. It's spontaneous and sometimes hilarious, particularly because the instrumentalists (a few guitarists, a 10-year-old on drumset, an old toothless accordion player, and a new person on keyboard for every song) always try to catch the tune and play along, which often means the first verse or two of the person's song is accompanied by a cacophony of instruments trying desperately to pick out the right key. But despite the discord, I like this part. It feels so Romanian. The songs that are sung are often exactly what you'd expect in "stereotypical" Eastern European music -- part warble and wail, part toe-tapping rhythmic chorus, punctuated with shouts of "Ai! Ai! Ai!" from members of the congregation. Some of the people who lead us in song have amazing, beautiful voices. Others don't. But it doesn't matter, because if the song is familiar, soon their voice is drowned out by the enthusiastic voices of the rest of the congregation... plus that amazing accordion.
The kids usually lead a few songs too. They're SO CUTE!
This week was especially jubilant. A middle-aged man had just committed to following Jesus, and he was baptized this Sunday evening in the river which flows just behind the church. It was pretty abrupt, actually -- suddenly in the middle of the service, everyone stood up and put on their coats and traipsed outside, applauding and singing, to cheer and love and encourage as he was dunked in the Jiu. There were lots of hugs and photographs, words of encouragement and promises to walk with this man as he joined the family of faith. At the same time, the church was celebrating the birth of a new baby into the family, praying blessings over the child and his parents, promising to raise him in the family of faith and walk beside him. It brought tears to my eyes to see this newly-baptized older man towering over this tiny little baby held in his mother's arms, the two of them side-by-side in the front of the church, surrounded by loving people of all ages, all promising to welcome them and love them. And then the guitarists and accordion player got started again, bopping to their own beat, fingers flying across keys and strings, grinning and stomping, toothless and all -- and we were singing, and clapping, and there was much rejoicing.
It was beautiful. And for the first time, it really felt like home.
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