Wyk is the town; Föhr is the island off of northern Germany. Auf means of or in or on or something like that. I don’t speak German.
It is a small island—tiny, actually; we went on a tour of the entire thing in about a half hour. But let me tell you: the beauty and peaceful essence of this island is something that is unmatched in my mind. About a third of the houses have thatched roofs, and each house was accompanied by beautiful gardens and shady trees. Sheep happily grazed along the many fields. Once again, there are no lines on the road, and people tend not to lock their doors. The whole island was surrounded by wonderful beaches.
I flew my kite on one of those beaches. Illegally. Accidentally. Apparently there is a designated spot just for kite flying (sounds like my kind of place!) and I was not on it. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if my kite hadn’t caught a bad wind and took a nose dive, almost taking out a happy couple as they relaxed in the sand.
Should have thought that one through.
The choir had homestays for that weekend, and a friend and I stayed with Daniel, a 30-something man who just happened to be the head architect of the island. He designed their golf course. Cool guy. Daniel is dating Susie, a woman from Nigeria who lives with a young family who hosted four other guys in the choir. Since they were all close friends, we kind of merged the two groups. This group of men and women, all in their mid-thirties, were fun, loud, hilarious, drunk, and fantastic. And they allowed us to be loud as well, which was quite fun. We had a BBQ with them, they took us to a bar party on the beach that takes place every night and doesn’t end until the last guest leaves. It was wonderful to talk with different people and get to know their stories. The people here are relaxed and seem to be comfortable with who they are and the quality of their lives.
We sang a concert in Föhr, but not at the oldest church. We sang at another one that was built about the same as the others, but probably had a bit more seating. It was cold inside when we rehearsed and when we went to the worship service on Sunday morning.
As we spent the day on beautiful Föhr, going to the beach and the FischMarkt (great food! I had a delicious crabcake sandwich!), I started to realize something peculiar. When I went into a shop, most of the time I was asked by the person behind the counter something like, “So, what kind of music does your choir sing?"
The entire island knew about the concert.
And it seemed as if the whole population was at the church an hour before it.
I’m pretty sure that the whole choir felt as if God was reaching through our hosts toward our hearts. We had passionate and worshipful devotionals before hand, and then marched into the packed church with people shoulder to shoulder in the pews, standing against the walls, and sitting on the floor—all clapping an excited beat in unison until our director came out, during which they went crazy.
The choir sang the best they have in a long time, and with each section of the concert, whenever we walked out to stretch and drink water and came back in again, the crowd was even more excited and wooted and hollered even louder when we were ready to sing.
Sometimes I forget the Unsung Hero of the Trinity: the Holy Spirit. And let me tell you, it was moving that night. The air was heavy with it and the people in the pews and we in the choir were filled. We were all bursting with the sounds of worship.
Afterwards, with everyone still floating on the Spirit, the choir went its separate ways. A few of us, though, after showering and relaxing for a bit, decided it would be a pretty good idea to go dancing. Now may I make it clear that clubbing is not something that I like to do. ‘Matter of fact, I pretty much hate it. The horrors of high school dances added to my anxiety disorder causes me to avoid public dances like the plague. Every once and a while, however, the planets align and I decide that I would love to go dancing.
This was one of those nights.
From midnight to 3am, I very well could have starred in Saturday Night Fever.
There’s something I’m sure you all would have wanted to see.
That's all the documentation from that night. Dancing Brian rarely is filmed. Oh, and that girl is a friend from choir, no worries, Christie. :)
When we were done dancing and pretty worn out from a full day, we took a taxi back to our neighborhood and walked everyone back home. On the way to one girl’s house, we got lost, which caused me and my roommate to not get back to our flat until 4:30. The sun was rising, though, and listening to birds wake up and horses go for their morning trot is quite nice.
As I went to bed, I reflected on my time at Wyk auf Föhr. The beautiful scenery, the beautiful people, and the amazing tangible closeness I felt with God made me realize that Föhr is a place where I would be happy to visit and just forget to leave.
Praise God again for His flowing, freeing Spirit. May your lives be engulfed with it.
Peace, perfect peace.