Dave Gullett

Sometimes it is disconcerting how similar Jakarta seems to me. On the surface, at least, it does not “feel” all that different from NYC or other places. The people, the traffic, the noises all are not all that unfamiliar. Sunday morning we joined some believers for worship at Gereja Baptis Indonesia (GBI) Cilandak. Setting aside the difference of language, it was little different from any other Baptist church I have attended. The same greeters at the door, the same friendly people (well maybe that is sometimes a difference to our shame), the same florescent lit auditorium. There was a piano in one corner, wooden pews and a small lectern, adorned subtly with a wooden cross, on a platform raised slightly above the congregation. Otherwise the room is sparsely decorated with white walls and high white ceiling, whose monotony is broken only by the single tube light fixtures and simple fans doing their best to keep the warmth bearable. The pastor, from Japan, preached an homiletically sound message on the attributes of the Holy Spirit, even wrestling with concepts that American churches often gloss over (blaspheming the Spirit). There were traditional hymns sung to traditional melodies in Indonesian words, and familiar praise sung the same way. The words were different, but the meaning the same. The message was bookended with the familiar announcements and the familiar application and invitation. The congregation fellowshipped with each other after the message, and the Pastor greeted the people as the walked out of the church. All in all the entire experience was eerily familiar to home. I am not sure why. I suppose I simply expected a church in another culture to be in some way (beyond language) to be radically different. After all I have come to understand that the characteristics of American “church” that go beyond what we see in the New testament to be culturally American or at least Western. So finding this in the East has left me a but off balance. However, the church here is not its building or its polity or even its ritual and liturgy or lack thereof. The Bride of Christ is the people committed to Him, gathered together to worship the Most High God in the shadow of Islam and i the melee of urbanization.

I was awoken again this morning by the calls to prayer drifting (perhaps wailing?) from the nearby mosque. The sound is hard to describe, it is a times both painful, sorrowful and, in all honesty piercingly annoying. At the very least it is an irresistible alarm clock with no prospect of hitting snooze. Yesterday, most of the time was spent around the office, trying to shake of the last vestiges of jet lag. We had anticipated going to the airport to pick up another member of the team, but her flight was delayed yet again. Last night, we dined on authentic Javanese food with some of the staff who work here in Jakarta. It is interesting to see the diversity of backgrounds and personalities that God has brought here to work along side each other. After dinner victory was finally secured in the battle with my American cell phone. through time and much software, I now can be reached through an Indonesia provider. This is far less expensive than going through the American service because of roaming, and allows people here to dial it local. I can still make calls with the American service, but this involves changing cards in the phone and is again costly, so I will mostly be only checking messages with that number. If you would like to call direct the number is +62 0852 134 23732 and remember we are 11 hours ahead of east coast time ( i.e here it is tomorrow morning , and there it is yesterday eve) This past Friday night, George introduced us to public transportation in Jakarta. We had gone to a shopping center for dinner and took the red bus home. This can be compared to a combination of city bus, taxi, near constant succession of playing chicken with everyone and occasional near death experience. But also a whole lot of fun. Today, out team will be going to a local Indonesian fellowship for worship, and then tomorrow we will begin our formal orientation to Indonesian language and culture, in preparation for living with an Indonesian family. Thanks again for all of your prayers.

Its very peaceful here this morning. A the sun rose I could here the Muslim call to prayer, a few birds chirping and a light breeze ripling through the trees. But soon the city will come alive in a sense, filled with cars and trucks and countless motorbikes, people going here and there. Are they really alive though? If their lives have no eternal purpose, only the banal routine of existing day after day, can we really call that life? What does that mean for us? Whether in opulence or poverty, we are all the same. Either, we are breathing and bleeding, or we stop bleeding and breathing. But outside of Christ there isn’t really all that much difference between the two. The only life that matters is in Him.