what my church has taught me about the Church.

When I moved to Bolivia the first time with Dan, we tried out a number of different churches. We were always rolling up with like 6 or 7 kids - so that is a pretty good test for how loving/understanding/accepting a church is. We never came across any who really didn't want us there, but we often felt bad because the kids were noisy and unsettled and that was distracting and being stared at as the white person with all the Bolivian kids is really my least favourite thing (and it happens every. single. day.)

Fast forward to November 2014, and we finally tried the church recommended to us by our Spanish teacher. I don't remember the service, or the sermon, or much else. But what I do remember is walking out and saying to Dan, "well, I think we found it..." When I came back I started straight back up and it was like I never left. (Outside of the kids, it was the thing I was most excited to get back to.)

The pastor is awesome, he's a great speaker, goes through books of the Bible from start to finish (something that is rare here), is super into exegesis and breaking it right down to the greek or hebrew or whatever. He is a fantastic preacher, and I have learnt a lot from him. (He also recently balanced a 7 month old on his hand, lest he was not already our favourite.)

But what he has taught me is not the sum total of what I have got from my church. Far from it in fact.

Let me paint you a picture.

Each Sunday, Hannah and I rock up with somewhere between 8 and 14 kids, and we are regularly asked where the rest of them are. (Which is an absurd question, but we love it.)

When we arrive, the kids' eyes light up. They know it, they feel ownership of it. It's their church. They are loved. They are home. (They are spoilt... We can physically not avoid eating breakfast at church because if we try they bring the food to the kids.)

The kids are taken from our arms, held, cuddled - announcements are made from the front telling members of the congregation to give us a hand (that was a particularly rough Sunday). Never once have we been made to feel guilty, or like a hinderance for the fact that are children do not behave perfectly. Quite the opposite. They offer to take them out to Sunday School for us, help with the (approximately 1297637) bathroom trips. We aren't alone in caring for them, not even close.

We are a part of the church. We aren't just outsiders, people who rock up randomly on Sundays (I'm actually unsure Belen has anyone who feels like that.) They adore us, and the kids (mostly the kids). They encourage us to stay for lunches, even though they know we'll make a mess, and our kids won't sit still. (They also like to give them fizzy drinks/jelly/cake at the lunches, so they do have some flaws.)

And regularly while we're waiting for a taxi home after the service, someone will offer to go well out of their way, squeeze us all into their car/trufi and drive us home.

Outside of Sunday mornings, we are prayed for at the prayer meetings (both as individuals, and Casa de Amor as a whole), people donate clothes, come to the orphanage to cut hair, want to help with everything. They are talking about adoption, they are encouraging others to support the kids forgotten in society. They are awesome.

Every single Sunday, and every single moment, this church is a beautiful picture of Christ. I could not be more grateful. And I know the kids feel exactly the same.

Comunidad Cristiana Belen, you guys are our favourites!