What Happens On Sunday

From the Rising of the Sun by Tim Challies and Tim Keesee: A book review

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I’ve read many books that are really informative and helpful. I’ve also read a few books that I thought changed me at a deep level. But rarely do I come across a book that did both.

From the Rising of the Sun by Tim Challies and Tim Keesee does both. It informs the mind, but it also stretches the heart. It reminds you that the Church is much bigger than your town, your habits, your style of singing, your view of what a Sunday ought to feel like. It lifts your eyes and makes you remember that while you are still rubbing sleep from your eyes, believers on the other side of the world have already gathered to praise Christ.

It shows us a picture of what really happens on Sunday.

That is the wonderful burden of this book.

The two Tims take readers on a journey through congregations around the world, tracing Christian worship from one time zone to another. I think what makes the book strong is that it doesn’t treat the global church like a tourist attraction or a collection of odd religious menu of styles. It treats believers in these places as family. This is a common thread running throughout this book. At one point Keesee captures this family reality when he reflects that though we may live on different continents with different histories and have no ties of language, blood, or custom, yet by saving grace we have been brought into a family whose bond is deeper than blood and stronger than death.

This truth is the heartbeat of the book.

One of the most moving early chapters is the story in Fiji of Premend Choy, a man once called “Bible boy” because of his new found love for Jesus.

I loved that story.

It was personal for me because I had a similar nickname in high school for carrying a New Testament in my back pocket. But the detail that stayed with me even more was that he waited twenty seven years for his father to come to Christ, this was something even more special. As I wait and pray for my own dad, even as he fights cancer, I felt the weight of that hope. This book is not simply about worship services in distant lands. Rather it’s also about the long endurance of faith, the kind that keeps praying year after year. The kind that pleads for God to move.

The chapter on Sydney, Australia was probably one of my favorites (I say this hesitantly because I have many favorites in this book and you will too). The section on CityAlight was especially meaningful. Keesee writes of their desire to write songs simple enough to be sung in suffering was compelling, but it became even more so when placed alongside the story of Tiarne Tranter (one of the singers) and the pain of losing her baby during pregnancy. My wife and I listened to her Psalm 42 song on the way to a doctor’s appointment in Omaha, and we were both on the verge of tears thinking about our own loss. Books don’t often manage to feel global and intimate at the same time. But I assure you that this one does.

The South Korea chapter stood out to me for its emphasis on prayer. Keesee describes a Friday night prayer meeting in Seoul and, while quoting John Piper, says, “My brothers and sisters here indeed pray like life is war.”

It’s hard to read that and not ask what has happened to prayer in many of our churches. Later he observes that their singing was spirited, but their praying was even less restrained than their music, which he notes is the opposite of most American churches. That is a convicting thought and worth our consideration. The chapter also highlights care for the poor, another area where the book exposes some of our blind spots. We can become efficient, suspicious, and dismissive toward the needy. This book reminds you over and over that Christian worship isn’t just sound and showmanship but love.

One of the things I deeply enjoyed about this book was Challies’s reflections at the end of each chapter. They cover a variety of topics. His comments about learning customs in Southeast Asia I really loved. He points out that if we live and travel as ambassadors of Christ we ought to avoid unnecessary offense, learn the customs of others, and show honor. As a truck driver, I found that deeply inspiring. The road puts you in contact with all kinds of people, and it’s good to remember that bearing Christ’s name means more than being technically correct. It means carrying yourself with humility and gospel-centered love.

The Cambodia chapter was another favorite. Keesee’s account of missionary labor is really good. He describes the painstaking work of learning language, creating alphabets, translating Scripture, and building literacy. It is slow, hidden, foundational work. The gospel often travels on the back of patient, unseen labor.

The story of H’weel and his daughter Yett was beautiful as well, and I will leave that one alone for future readers to discover. Beyond these chapters you’ll find stories that will make your mouth drop.

In the end, From the Rising of the Sun is not just a book about travel or even about worship styles. It is a book about the glory of Christ in his worldwide church. It reminds us that the gospel is bearing fruit in Fiji, Australia, Korea, Cambodia, Zambia, Poland, Morocco, Brazil, Chile, Mexico, Alaska, and a thousand other places most of us will never see. And yet every Lord’s Day, in Christ, we join them.

This is a beautiful, strengthening, and convicting book. Go read it!

I’m grateful I read it.

Cling to Christ!