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I didn’t understand most of what was said in that church.
But somehow… I still understood exactly what mattered.
Walking Into Easter
We walked to church that morning.
It felt different than any Easter I’ve experienced before. No rushing. No packed parking lots. No checking the time.
Just walking.
There was something slower about it. Simpler.
And I LOVED IT.
A Different Kind of Worship
The church was called Galilea, and from the moment we arrived, they were incredibly welcoming—kind, generous, and genuine in a way you could feel right away.
The music filled the room.
Drums, guitar, keyboard and voices—deeply emotional and completely unpolished in the best way—echoed through a small indoor-outdoor space that somehow held it all without trying.
It wasn’t a performance.
It was worship.
People weren’t singing to be heard.
They were singing because they meant it.
Coming from the Midwest, where we tend to be a little reserved, I loved stepping into a Latin culture and experiencing worship like that—free, expressive, unfiltered.
Alive.
When You Don’t Understand Everything
The service itself was beautiful.
And if I’m honest… I didn’t understand most of it.
Not a word at times.
We used Google Translate when we could, catching pieces here and there—just enough to follow along.
But even without fully understanding the language, something still came through.
It reminded me that understanding isn’t always about words.
Sometimes… it’s about presence.
A Kingdom That Flips Expectations
One part of the message stood out clearly.
There was a strong focus on the women in the resurrection story—how Jesus' resurrection was revealed to women first.
The pastor explained that in the first century Jewish culture, that detail went against expectation.
But that was the point.
God wasn’t just announcing the resurrection, He was revealing His Kingdom.
A Kingdom that works differently.
That values differently.
That sees people differently.
A Kingdom where the overlooked are often the ones God chooses first.
I loved how the pastor made clear that the resurrection isn’t just something we celebrate.
It reshapes how we see everything. It is about identity.
A Simple Stop on the Way Home
On the way back, we stopped at a small meat market to pick up food for dinner.
The kind of place you wouldn’t really see at home, just a simple corner stand where meat is sold fresh in the open.
But here, it felt normal. Trusted. Part of everyday life.
You gathered only what you needed that morning, and it was enough—like manna in the wilderness.
No one got sick the entire time we were there.
Life was starting to look different here… it wasn't better or worse.
Just different.
Casa Aleluya
After church, we spent the evening at Casa Aleluya with the kids.
It was a privilege to visit our friends' sponsored students.
One of the girls stood out to me. She was shy at first—quiet, unsure, watching everything carefully when we invited her to do crafts.
You could feel her hesitation.
But once the table filled with other girls, a shift started to happen.
Beads, pens, colors everywhere—suddenly the space came alive.
Smiles.
Laughter.
Focused excitement over tiny details that somehow felt really important in that moment.
What started as uncertainty turned into joy.
And I got to sit right in the middle of it.
When You Don’t Know Your Place
But inside, I felt something I didn’t expect.
Out of place.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to contribute.
I didn’t have sponsored students.
I didn’t speak the language.
I didn’t have a clear role.
And I realized how much I usually rely on having something to offer.
Without that, I felt… uncertain.
Like I was standing just outside the edges of something meaningful, trying to figure out where I fit.
Learning to Be Present
But slowly, I remembered…
I wasn’t needed to lead anything.
I wasn’t needed to fix anything.
I didn’t even need to understand everything.
I was just needed to be there.
To sit.
To stay.
To notice.
And somehow, that felt harder than I expected—but also strangely freeing.
Maybe this week isn’t about doing, but about seeing.
About slowing down enough to notice.
About being present without needing to prove anything.
What I’m Starting to Understand
When I think back to that morning in church, I remember sitting there, not understanding most of the words… wondering if I was missing something.
But later, sitting at a table covered in beads and color and laughter, and as I watched the boys play basketball, I realized something:
I understood more than I thought.
Presence speaks its own language.
The same way I could feel worship without translating every word…
I could feel joy without explaining it.
And maybe that’s what God was showing me all along—
That I don’t have to understand everything to be part of what He is doing.
That I don’t have to do to have purpose.
That sometimes the most meaningful thing I can bring… is simply being willing to stay.
Scripture
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
— Psalm 46:10 (ESV)
A Simple Prayer
Heavenly Father,
Help me slow down enough to see what You’re doing.
Teach me to be present instead of always trying to perform or understand. And remind me that Your Kingdom often looks different than I expect.
In Jesus' name, Amen.
**Stay tuned—day three is when we started visiting widows. It’s something I won’t forget.**
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