All of us next drove to Agung’s humble home nearer to the main road. There I enjoyed coconuts, lychee, cocoa, and jellies—all of which came from the Agung family’s small and diversified garden--before heading back to Medewi for the night.
MOTORCYCLE, NO BREAKS
Unable to rent a driver for the next day at a decent price, I rented a motorcycle for (only)the second time in my entire life and drove it all the way back to Blimbingsari for 9a.m. church service the next morning.
The Gamelan Orchestra was playing as I arrived and everyone was wearing formal Balinese traditional clothing, headdresses, and other finery.
I was the only foreigner visiting that morning and the locals all tried to make me feel at home—even apologizing profusely that the service was carried out in Balinese and not in English.
Agung’s brother came over and sat by me in church, but he wasn’t able to translate much. Luckily, I had my Bible with me and I was able to decipher which 4 or 5 texts were discussed and when.
Finally, even though I don’t understand the Balinese words of their songs and hymns, I was able to sing along because the Indonesians and Balinese use the western writing system of English and Holland.
The Blimbingsari pastor dressed like a priest of Hindu tradition but gave a tough sermon on living out the words of the gospel and not simply trying to consider oneself as good because one comes from Blimbingsari or one feels he is lives what he is living out a better life than his neighbors, i.e. non-Christians.
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