It was sunny and nice so we decided to take a walk on the beach. NOW I know why they call this one the naked beach. Oh my, saw more male and female anatomy than I care to convey in print. Up til now there had been the occassional bikini top removed. Today I saw a middle aged couple strolling the waves - starkers, both of them. Yes, thanks for sharing. The good news is this was limited to one short stretch of beach that we passed as nonchalantly as we could and moved on. The other beaches we walked to seemed more family oriented with only the occasional missing top for the ladies and the more frequent naked babies, not so disconcerting to look at.
I spent the afternoon actually unpacking. I guess it took my brain a few days to accept the fact I wasn't going anywhere for awhile. Turns out my belts all got sent on the container...guess I'll be waiting a month or so to wear anything that requires a belt. At least, I hope they're on the container.
Church in Tarragona is only on Sunday night, so we got dressed and were picked up about 6:30, still very sunny. Drove to an industrial park where one of the warehouses has been converted into the Iglesia...I've forgotten the other words in the church name. I'll be back so I will learn it. They sang several songs that I recognized - Holy is the Lord God Almighty, the whole earth is filled with his glory...another: I want to see you Lord, and maybe one other I knew. It's weird even though I knew them I couldn't think of the English words; I guess because my brain was trying so hard on the Spanish overhead. Santo, Santo, Santo was the Holy, Holy, Holy part of one song I figured out. It was contemporary, loud, not dressed up though no shorts, a few spantz (see Dar's blog). Mostly young people only maybe 5 or 6 older people - 2 were a pastor's parents visiting from Argentina and the other 2 were the senior pastor and his wife (he's Spanish, she's from Sweden). I liked the idea that the young people here are hungry for a new taste of God, not settling for what was in the past, but I'm so used to the mix of generations at our home church that I missed it.
The people were friendly - you haven't been to church if you leave after service the missionary told us. It's expected that you stay and visit. It's always cool to be with a new body of believers somewhere, but here we couldn't understand the words much. The heart was evident and ernest. I did feel like I'd been to church though the sermon went completely over my head. Don't even know the topic. At the end, everyone stood in prayer and cried out for the city and for more people to come to know Christ (I know this because it was translated for me). It was a powerful moment - loud prayer I couldn't understand with my brain, but that I could join in wholeheartedly. Cool.
Our current supervising missionaries have asked us to participate in an English speaking outreach two weeks from now. Participate musically - that's Dar's department, so we'll see what happens. Nice to be involved in something already.
Language school starts tomorrow. Where's my brain?!