letter from Norway
You don’t expect to experience culinary surprises in church; but at Christmas, in a church in Skien, Norway – while outside the snow fell lightly and horizontally – my tastebuds discovered the hard way that the ‘pitta bread’ I dipped into my chilli con carne was, in fact, a classic – and very sweet – Norwegian cake.
Skien (pronounced ‘share’n’) is in the Grenland district of Telemark, lying some 130kms southwest of Oslo. You’re never far from water – most of which was frozen and, in some cases, blanketed in snow. (This wasn’t the first year we walked across a lake we previously swam in).
In the heart of Skien, a group of Christians of many nationalities have met in a distinctly unchurchy building for the last two years. Grenland International Church is led by Jeremy Siebert, an American married to Lisbet, a Norwegian. They have been in ministry for 24 years and left the US in mid-2021 to plant the Skien church.
And that’s where seven of us, aged 12 to 85, found ourselves on the morning of Christmas Eve.
It was an Assemblies of God church; we knew it could be different to what we were used to. In reality, it was fairly traditional: we appreciated the warm familiarity of carols and Scripture readings and a few well-placed Christmas lights amid unfamiliar faces.
The service started with a few carols – I found the band of six or so on stage facing the congregation singing and/ or playing instruments somewhat distracting (unsurprising given I’m used to an unobtrusive piano and occasional instrument). It didn’t help that the words were on a screen directly above their heads.
It was refreshing to learn something new amid the familiar – Jeremy explained the history of how the words, and then the music, to O Little Town of Bethlehem came to be written. (If you don’t know the history, listen here from about two minutes in: www.youtube.com/watch?v=9FYqrUg4Yfg )
The pastor’s message was challenging; he preached the word clearly and unapologetically – that in Christ’s coming, He humbled Himself and became poor that we might become rich.
As he closed his message, Lisbet – the worship leader – returned to the keyboard and played quietly, continuing as the pastor prayed. I found this disconcerting, distracting and unnecessary (does God need music to make prayer effective?).
A week later, New Year’s Eve, was quite a contrast. There was a dedication for a young baby (dad is Canadian, mum is a local). It was a lovely family occasion where the pastor explained what a dedication is (and isn’t) and asked the church to express its commitment to supporting the parents in bringing up their son in the fear and admonition of the Lord.
I struggled with the singing. This time, the modern worship songs made the Getty’s hymns seem old-fashioned. Some of the words were nonsensical to me and I found them impossible to sing. Even those who appeared to know the words seemed to struggle to sing along with the band.
One of the leaders, a Norwegian called Odd (and odd by nature, by his own admission!) gave his testimony of how God had worked in his life through difficult times, including depression and various unhealthy, addictive behaviours.
He finished with a message on restoration and reconciliation to God which, to be honest, I struggled with. His accent and delivery may have much to do with that.
And then, with the keyboard gently accompanying the closing prayer, pastor Jeremy started to speak in tongues and my heartbeat accelerated ever-so-slightly. Now, though a cessationist, I’m not a strict one; and amid the unfamiliar but not entirely disconcerting sound of those audibly praying along with the pastor, I tried to discern someone interpreting.
I didn’t have to wait long. My daughter nudged me and said: ‘Don’t worry mum, he’s speaking Norwegian.’
Food and fellowship is clearly central to the church (if you’re interested, the Norwegian pitta-like dessert is called kling lefse).
We had a sense of a caring and welcoming church that loves the Lord. I was particularly struck by the general sense of expectation that the Holy Spirit would work among the church and wider community. We lack that in some of our churches.
I suspect neither of the services were indicative of a normal Sunday. For that reason alone, we will most definitely return. That aside, would we go back in any case? Absolutely.
