There was a sweetness and a sadness about it all as I walked in and heard the familiar-sounding hymn being sung, acapella. Not the sadness of the world, mind you, but a seriousness that comes only from having paid a price for one's faith. The churches of eastern Europe and Russia were brought through the fires of persecution and molded into something very definable, recognizable.

How wonderful it was to be there. How refreshing to know that no one was trying to be funny. No jokes were cracked. Women's heads were covered, in respect for their husbands and the words of the apostle. Music was worshipful, and in a minor key, reflecting the fellowship of His suffering, not the musical fads of our times.

There were four speakers, not one. Not electronic speakers. Preachers. And not one speaker was the pastor! That gentleman gave the announcements at the end, and dismissed us in prayer. I had seen the same thing in Romania. Difference, was, I was usually one of the speakers, waiting my turn. These pastors revel in the giftedness of the body to the point that they become facilitators, and preach in other men's churches more than their own.

The messages themselves, given to us via interpreter, were serious, word-centered, passionate, tear-stained. These men had no time to tickle ears and fancies. They called their people to holiness, to discipleship.

There was no entertainment. Only a half a dozen songs, spread out over the meeting time, a few prayer sessions, and Word, Word, Word, for a total of two hours and fifteen minutes. Try that in a Western church.

Prayers were said from the knees. And from the heart. Requests were fielded from the congregation.

I cannot imagine a better way for me to have prepared for my upcoming visit to escapees from the persecuted church of Korea then to have visited this church.

Where was I? Not in Romania, not even in an American Romanian church.

Colorado Springs is the home of Seoul USA, and a lot of other ministries. They say there is not a city in our nation that houses more Christian organizations. There's at least one mega-church there as well, and a host of not so megas. How would I know where to attend, come Sunday?

I was in COS to visit with the team that will be directing our proposed trip to Korea. On the weekend things slow down a bit and the Korean intern and I were left to figure out where to fellowship. While we were working late at the Seoul USA office one evening, Johwa and the folks that clean the building got talking. Turns out they go to a Ukrainian church nearby. They asked us if we'd like to attend. Believing it was an answer to our prayer and dilemma, we accepted the invitation.

How refreshing it was to leave standard American churchianity and take an unexpected trip to the Ukraine. Which happened to be a clone of Romanian churches with which I was so familiar. Which happened to remind me of the suffering church, and my history with it, Voice of the Martyrs, Richard Wurmbrand. Which happened to be just what I needed to remind me what I was about. Little in this part of the world can do what an Eastern European congregation can do for a person in the ministry to which I have been called.

God knows how to arrange, surprise, and delight, when we are seeking Him.