It was a hot, humid Sunday in April, the kind where even your flip-flops feel like they’re sweating. We’d just arrived in Dar Es Salaam, hearts stretched wide open and suitcases half-zipped with expectation. As a missionary family navigating new soil, we were hungry for connection — for a taste of home in the body of Christ.
So when we walked through the doors of Vineyard Church, we didn’t expect to leave with hearts this full.
From the very first handshake (and you know how some handshakes are actually hugs in disguise), we felt it — that rare and holy welcome. Not the polite kind. The “we’ve been waiting for you” kind.
Christo shared a short piece of our testimony — just a glimpse into the story God has been writing through our family. And as the church gathered around us, laid hands, and prayed over us with tears and tongues and holy boldness, something cracked open. Not just in the spirit. In us.
We were seen. Known. Loved. Not for what we could do, but for who we were. Fellow laborers. Brothers and Sisters. Kingdom Family.
Our children ran off giggling to children’s church — and came back full of stories about Bible crafts and new friends and snacks that may or may not have involved too much sugar. But more than that, they came back smiling. That matters.
And us? We lingered in conversations long after the last song was sung. Friendships started to form. Names became stories. Hugs became promises to meet again soon.
We didn’t expect to find family in a foreign place.
But Jesus is funny like that.
He builds His Church across languages and neighborhoods and time zones — and knits us together not by convenience, but by covenant.
We’ll always remember that Sunday at Vineyard Church, not because of flashy production or perfect programs, but because we encountered the Spirit of God in the warmth of His people.
If you’re reading this and you’ve ever wondered whether showing up, praying over someone, or smiling at a stranger really matters — let this be your reminder.
It absolutely does.
Pray with us:
Lord, thank you for churches that feel like family and home, and for saints who make room for strangers. Keep us soft to your leadership and open to the community, even in unfamiliar places. Knit our hearts together across oceans and cultures, for Your glory and the joy of the Gospel. Amen.
