When you first worshipped in your new country, what stood out to you? What did you wish you could take back to where you came from? What did you find puzzling but later understood (or maybe still don’t)? 

Worship does not require a group, a building or a set time. But today I was remembering weekly services I have attended in four Asian countries. I am so thankful for: 

Being led and pushed into a pew until no more people would fit. 

Praying simultaneously out loud with those around me. 

Seeing people ride and walk up the icy or flooded street to the church and then wait for doors to open. 

Singing a song countless times until the leader felt we ‘knew’ it.

Being told to ‘dress simple’. Sunday wasn’t a day to show off your new clothes. 

Getting so toasty as I sat in my thick winter coat – too close to the person next to me to pull it off. 

Realizing that this was most of these people’s only day off. 

Listening to the pastor pray as incense went up behind him. 

Ending every service with one personal testimony. 

Standing in a circle singing a welcome to the first-timers. 

Being literally pushed out of the building to make room for the next service. 

Listening to a group of grandmothers chant scripture in unison. 

Hearing the whoosh of 100 fans in the hot room. 

Nancy Guthrie, in her book Blessed, writes of her observations at a college football game that reminded her of a worship service. 

Attendance may have been eclectic, but it was voluntary. 

There was preparation – attenders knew what to wear. Some had even tattooed their faces with team colors. 

They got there early to not miss anything. 

There was a liturgy to the event that the majority were familiar with. A leader directed the cheers so everyone could join in. 

There was sacrifice. The tickets and parking were far from free. Travel took time. Good weather? Maybe. 

Our actions reveal what we think is worthy of our worship. 

What do my actions show the world?