Biscuits with No Gravy: I Attend Church in Dunfermline

The first week I arrived in Dunfermline, I attended Sunday morning services at Viewfield Baptist Church on the high street. The building itself was built almost one hundred and seventy five years ago, and the stone work outside is old and mossy colored from the weather. I walked to services that morning and enjoyed that very much. The act of walking almost helped to prepare me for worship with my brothers and sisters. It was something different to see the faces of people on the street who walked past me on my way there. I never realized until that moment that when I attend church at home, I get in my car and go straight there. I don't see or engage with anyone until I walk in the doors to rehearsal. If it was possible, I would walk to church and greet people on my way there every morning at home. It is something to seriously consider when I return home.

The doors to the church sanctuary were shut, and I didn't realize they were meeting downstairs until I saw the sign that said since they were doing construction, the sanctuary was closed. I made my way around the side of the building and ran into an elderly couple and two younger people. They immediately introduced themselves and asked if I was coming in with them. "Yes I am!" I said, and told them I was visiting from Texas. They excitedly showed me the doorway and we found seats inside. I met a few other people, whose names I can't remember now, but they were all kind and smiled at me broadly. My new friend Mary chatted my ear off as we waited for the service to begin. She had bright blue eyes, a lovely rolling Scottish accent, and smelled of warm vanilla. Mary introduced me to the pastor, Michael, who preached in Midland a few years ago. We talked about the desolate area and I told him to try Fort Worth next time.

The service began and we stood together and sang several of the Getty's hymns. That was glorious to me because the Getty's are Scottish. The entire congregation, about a hundred people, sang quite loudly. I could barely even hear myself singing, which is the way I like it. The older man behind me kept coming in at the wrong time, but when he sang, I could tell he was enjoying himself immensely. It was a beautiful thing to be in such close quarters with a people group that I have come to love and cherish so much. My trips to Turkey were the jumping off point that led me to see what God was doing in the world, and I think that is why I felt so comfortable here with the Scottish baptists.

They spoke loud and long of Jesus throughout the service. Their prayers were fervent, and I caught myself more than once, letting tears well up in my eyes. I've never heard prayers like those before. They were sincere, pleading, and humble, asking God to help them be a light to their community without fluffy words or phrases. I had forgotten how refreshing plain prayers are. God wants to hear our real heart, not how good we can make our requests sound.

After the service, two ladies sat behind a counter and handed out tea, coffee, and biscuits. Not the sausage and gravy kind, but the cookie kind. I stood around and spoke with some of the members for a while, asking questions and getting to know them. They looked at me wide-eyed when I said my church has about three thousand members ( I think that's right). But the numbers don't matter really. I so enjoyed being with them for Easter also. Such a small place, but such an amazing location to reach their community and the world around them. This morning, I felt exactly as I did with the missionaries in Turkey and the Wycliffe Bible translators in Switzerland. I was part of something big, a global family where God Himself is in their midst. The only time He is more real to me than times like these are when I am studying the Bible or traveling. I really stepped out of my comfort zone to go and meet with them, but oh, I am so glad I did. They are a precious congregation that is simple, Gospel centered, and loving.

It was so good to have the name of Jesus Christ preached and spoken over me today. I know the Gospel message, but when I hear "The Son of God came to earth to pay the price of sin so that I might be saved" in a different accent than my own, it is a testament to what God is doing in this world. I am part of a bigger movement than just in my own town. Again, I see the mark of the Creator on the faces of those different from me, and it is life-changing. I thank God for them and for how He has led me here at this specific time. He makes all things work together for my good.

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