Sunday, July 2, 2017

His Power Summer Camp 1: Barvinook

Barvinook 2017. This is a camp I've visited with the HfO team for the past 3 years, but when we got to camp, we didn't recognize many of the kids and some we hoped to see weren't there. This turned out to be because kids for an orphanage we were familiar with were not allowed to come (allegedly due to bad behavior) and there were a new group of kids from an orphanage we hadn't visited before. Most of these kids were not legal orphans but were living at the orphanage because their parents were unable or unwilling to keep them at home. At first I was disappointed that I didn't know most of the 26 14-15 year olds in my small group, but as the week went on and we spent time together, God began to show me His heart for these particular kids.

In this camp I found myself just watching the kids in my group often and being filled with joy and wonder and love at the small glimpses of their personalities, emotions, talents, hearts, pain, and experiences they were willing to share with us. My prayer was and continues to be that they will come to see how valuable they truly are. Several times we challenged the kids to ask 2 questions of God- "Who are You?" And "Who am I?" And we created safe spaces of healthy vulnerability and boundaries. Such a precious gift to share this little piece of life together.

One particularly precious moment happened the second to last day at camp. At the end of each day we meet with our small group and debrief the day together, sometimes having tea and cookies and just talking about life or whatever is on their minds. On this night, we let the kids in our group write down questions for Jenya (my team leader) and I. The night before we had written down various questions and let the kids randomly pick one and answer if they wanted to. One girl named Anya got the question, "Are you carrying any pain in your heart?" She chose not to answer. However, on this night when we let the kids ask us questions, Anya wrote down the very same question she was asked the night before, "Are you carrying any pain in your heart?" I decided to be honest and share some wounds I had received in my life that sometimes flair up and still cause me pain. I explained that the pain felt different now than it had originally, because before I was alone in my pain whereas now I am learning to bring that pain to Jesus and receive His comfort. The pain doesn't always go away, but being able to be completely honest with Jesus and knowing He not only understands my pain but enters into it with me is my greatest source of comfort. Jenya also opened up about pain he carries, and I believe it was a great gift to show the kids we can be vulnerable in a healthy and healing way.

It was hard to leave them, but after so many camps and with 2 more coming up, my perspective has changed. It's not any less painful to leave, but I hope the examples and care and love we shared with these kids will linger long after we are gone.

Here are some pictures from camp for those of you who are not on Facebook:

Please pray for these kids.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

To love another person is to see the face of God

So this post isn't about Ukraine, but it's about a profound event that has given me deeper understanding of God's heart and serving people, so it's bound to influence my life in Ukraine. :)

Last week my former housemate and fellow IJM UK intern got married in London, and I had the great blessing of being there for her wedding. While in London, I also got to see Les Miserables (That's a sentence I never thought I'd be able to write! I'm still a little in disbelief that it happened!). Dang. I could go on and on about this phenomenal work, but there were two things that struck me particularly.

Having memorized the soundtrack and seen the film, the story of Les Mis didn't surprise me, but what did surprise me was the experience of seeing the production with a live audience. At any given point in the musical, at least one person was crying. So many people love this story. This production has been translated into 22 different languages, has played in 44 countries, has been seen live by more than 70 million people worldwide, and is the world's longest running musical. There's something special about this story, something that responds to the longing of the human heart. 

Much of our modern society (especially in the western world), from pain, fear, or disillusionment, has rejected absolute truth and left hollow our universal desire for divine justice. Life is chaotic and unfair, as reflected in the lives of Eponine and Cosette in Les Mis. These characters were girls together, both from humble circumstances, both prove to have compassionate hearts; but one is plucked from a life of misery and the other dies in it. Why is one saved and the other not? In life and in the play, we do not get direct answers.

At the end of this particular version of the musical, both Fantine and Eponine come to Jean Valjean as he's dying to guide him to paradise. At first I was confused - why Eponine? But her presence in that scene shifted how I see the whole play. 

I always thought Les Mis was a bit moralistic (even though it presents the parallel stories of Javert who is destroyed by moralism and Valjean who is saved by mercy), because at the end of the story Valjean is ushered to paradise by Fantine for taking care of her daughter. His good deeds in response to the mercy extended to him by the priest redeems his former criminal life and he is rewarded with peace. He gets to see the face of God because he has loved another person.

Nope. The presence of Eponine and her singing along with Fantine the famous line, "to love another person is to see the face of God," made me realize I had it all wrong. 

When Fantine tells Valjean, "You raised my child in love, now you will be with God," he responds, "She's (Cosette) the best of my life." I had thought he meant loving her was the best thing he had done in his life, when really, being able to love her was the greatest gift of his life. 

Eponine helped me to see that. She too knows what it means "to love another person is to see the face of God," and that's why she is the character to appear alongside Fantine. Though her life was tragic it was not a tragedy. She too was given the gift of loving another person, even though Marius never romantically reciprocated her love for him. Being loved is a special gift, but truly, sacrificially loving another person is to literally participate in the greatest attribute of God, love Himself.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

The Pace of Nature

As a geologist, my dad did a lot of work in Avon Park; and as home school kids, we often went with him, doing schoolwork in the morning and going out to play by the lake in the afternoon. We spent hours digging up clams and collecting them in buckets just to be thrown back at the end of the day. But I remember my favorite thing to do was lie still on the shore with my body stretched into the lake so that only my head wasn't submerged. After a few minutes, the tiny minnows living in the shallows acclimated to my presence and began swimming around me and gently bumping against my arms and legs.

Some things are only experienced in stillness.

God reminded me of that yesterday. Both of my usual commitments cancelled and I found I had the whole day to myself. Liliya is in the States (hug her for me if you get to see her!) and so I also had our apartment to myself, but the weather was beautiful and warm (finally! This FL girl is ready to sweat.), so I decided to go exploring.

I found a walking path that led to a lake so I sat down and started to journal. I had many questions I wanted to get out. Though my life in Ukraine has been truly wonderful, it's also not been what I expected. It's honestly pretty simple. I study Ukrainian, teach English, meet new people, occasionally help HfO with outreaches and preparing for summer camps. Guilt and worry attack in waves -- I'm not doing enough, I should be more assertive, I should study harder, I should have a ministry plan by now, build more partners, be more involved at my church... the list goes on. And while none of these things are bad and I do want to find specific ministry work to dive into, God reminded me today that waiting is a verb. I might feel directionless at times and worry that I'm standing still, but there are some things that are only experienced in stillness. As I sat by the lake, I looked at the nature around me. It too seemed motionless at first glance, but the longer you look the more you realize everything is in motion at the perfect pace. "Oaks of righteousness" do not sprout up in a day (or in the 6 months I've been in Ukraine). In the perceptive words of Emerson, "Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience." Patience is indeed a virtue necessary to build anything strong. 

I will continue teaching English and studying Ukrainian through the end of the month, and then I will be in 4 camps with HfO throughout June and July. In August I will be in FL for 3 weeks (and would love to see you!), and then back to Ukraine for Lily and Matt's wedding. At this point, I'm not sure what my life will look like come September, and I have many decisions to make - where to live, where and how to give my time, what ministries to partner with, what my role should be as an American supporting Ukrainians serving Ukrainians, to continue raising support or to find work in Ukraine, to serve as a layman and connect professional counselors and therapists to orphan ministries or to go back to school for counseling or trauma therapy. Please pray with me for guidance over those decisions. Your comfort and encouragement help keep me going and I am so grateful! 

My visit to London last week for a dear friend's wedding inspired me to get back into The Valley of Vision. These words have been my prayer, 

Fill me with an over-flowing ocean of compassion,
     the reign of love my motive
     the law of love my rule.
Cement my oneness with my blessed Lord,
     that faith may adhere to him more immovably,
     that love may entwine itself round him more tightly,
     that his spirit may pervade every fiber of my being.
Then send me out to make him known to my fellow-men.

I'll be real with you, I'm an idealist and theorist. This is helpful in giving me perspective to see bigger pictures at work through the details and to be intentional, but it's also dangerous because I can so easily get lost in the abstract and not bring these ideals into living, breathing actuality. It scares me, the potential to learn and understand and perceive but then to do nothing with it. Even now the fear claws at me since I've literally spent the whole day writing two blog posts (no joke! That's why they're so few and far between) and haven't interacted with a single person face-to-face. Please pray that God will give me the courage and strength to take these gifts given to me in solitude and stillness and use them to serve and love people and honor Him. 

Thank you for entering into this with me.

Saturday, April 1, 2017


Several times these past few weeks, especially the last 4 days we spent at camp with kids from Horodnya, I've been overcome with awe by the reality of God entering into every dark and shameful and painful corner of our stories -- Emmanuel, God with us. God doesn't know us in abstraction, He knows us not only as our Creator, but as a fellow participator in this human life. He has been and continues to be present with us. His presence is what our world needs, and amazingly, He invites us to participate in extending His presence to others. Moments when I am allowed to sit with someone in his or her pain are treasures I hold precious, because such moments when others have done the same for me are some of the greatest gifts I have ever received, moments when God's presence with us is visceral.

There is more pain in the hearts of these kids than we could ever have enough time to sit with. And yet, we saw and experienced joy tucked into so many moments and corners, for it is into such places that God himself went when he was here in the flesh. What a gift we are given to walk into places and stories of despair with authentic hope. The incarnation didn't end when Jesus ascended, it continues every moment we live out the Gospel as made possible by God's spirit in us. 

I've been reading Diane Langberg's book Suffering and the Heart of God and I love the way she describes incarnational ministry:

     Demonstrate in the flesh the character of God over time so that who you are reveals God to the survivor 
     [of trauma]. That, of course, is the incarnation, isn't it? Jesus, in the flesh, explaining God to us. Jesus, 
     bringing the unseen down into flesh and blood actualities. The survivor needs us to incarnate God for two
     reasons. One, we all need that. Secondly, this need is intensified for the trauma survivor because what has
     been repeatedly taught to a child in the seen is antithesis of the truth of God. She has learned about 
     fathers, power, trust, love, and refuge from one who emulated the father of lies.
        If you want the trauma survivor to understand that God is a refuge, then be one for her. If you want her 
     to grasp the faithfulness of God, then be faithful to her. If you want her to understand the truthfulness of 
     God, then never lie to her. If you want her to understand the infinite patience of God, then be patient with 
     her. And where you are not a refuge, or are tired of being faithful, or are fudging in your answers or 
     growing impatient with the necessary repetition, then get down on your knees and ask God to give you 
     more of himself so that you might represent him well.

That challenges and encourages me. May God continue to fill us with his presence and poor it out in flesh and blood actualities. Please continue to pray for me, the HfO team, and these kids.

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Justice and Weariness

I am weary. On days like this I am so ready for Jesus to come back and restore peace forever. The suffering and exploitation that wearies me is not just in Ukraine. It is everywhere, even in my own heart and actions. There's a poem by Warsan Shire that runs through my head often these days. It's called "what they did yesterday afternoon."

they set my aunts house on fire
i cried the way women on tv do
folding at the middle
like a five pound note.
i called the boy who use to love me
tried to ‘okay’ my voice
i said hello
he said warsan, what’s wrong, what’s happened?

i’ve been praying,
and these are what my prayers look like;
dear god
i come from two countries
one is thirsty
the other is on fire
both need water.

later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered

It doesn't matter where you go, what you do, who you interact with- everything everywhere hurts.

I was reading Galatians this morning and Paul's charge that we not let ourselves grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap if we do not give up. I am so easily wearied, so easily discouraged and despairing.  But I have had two deep encouragements I need to remember and I'd like to share with you.

We have a death conquering Savior. In the face of death we can boldly nurture life. Jesus absorbed all the carnage we have wrecked in each other. The "desperate tides of the whole great world's anguish were forced thro' the channels of a single heart." His heart. I am constantly shocked and horrified by the injustices I encounter; Jesus knew them personally. How often I forget. Honestly, I almost daily vent my anger at God, as if I am the one showing him the suffering of the world rather than the other way around. God is personally acquainted with every injustice ever committed and what's more has personally paid the consequence of those injustices. He has conquered death and extended life to us, leaving no room for despair.

And yet, I find a way. But that leads me to my second deep encouragement- the beautiful, resilient people I've met whose courage, grace, and love give me the energy not to give up hope. These people share more of the Gospel with me through their lives than I ever could with them.

A few weeks ago I was sitting in McDonald's at Ocean Plaza in Kyiv with a dear friend of mine. This friend and I met in Ukraine at an English camp 7 years ago. We connected over our love of words, quizzical eyebrows, and a magnetism toward Ukraine with which neither of us understood what to do. After living oddly parallel lives which included IJM, London, and living in Ukraine, we were recently reunited. Sitting in McDonald's, we discussed what our lives would be like if not for Ukraine. A love for justice is embedded in both of our DNA, but through our conversation I realized without Ukraine, justice wouldn't mean what it means to me now. Without Ukraine, I would still be asking the wrong questions. As an abstract thinker, I could easily get stuck exploring and defining my understanding of the concept of justice without ever actually entering into pursuing justice. Without Ukraine, I don't think I would've been forced to move beyond my anger at God for injustice in the world. I have met so many beautiful people who have suffered incomprehensible pain and shame, and yet they see and rejoice in the goodness of God. They know God on a level that inspires me to continue pressing into His heart and not allow myself to grow weary of doing good. They have helped me to see the truth of Gary Haugen's words in the introduction to his book Good News About Injustice

      For those who look at the deep ravages of injustice and find themselves descending into despair, I do
      not have adequate words. In such dark waters, words can rarely do the required work. But I can usher
      you into the holy spaces where we have met these survivors, by the thousands, and allow you to be
      awed by their stories. There is little about the agony and humiliation of evil that they do not understand,
      but in their harsh struggles they have also testified to the mysteries and mercies of God in a way that, to
      me, makes despair or cynicism seem like an indulgence, a lie and a dishonor.

If these people I have come to respect and love can endure what they have endured and come out of it praising God, then I have no right to me mad at God on their behalf. Their closeness to the God of justice and mercy urges me closer to Him even amid my anger and doubt. And in that closeness, I meet a God who is far more just and merciful and empathetic and patient and powerful than I could even hope for, and I am humbled to the very dust.

I have just one more poem to share. It's by Philip Metres and it's called "Compline."

That we await a blessed hope, & that we will be struck
With great fear, like a baby taken into the night, that every boot,

Every improvised explosive, Talon & Hornet, Molotov 
& rubber-coated bullet, every unexploded cluster bomblet, 

Every Kevlar & suicide vest & unpiloted drone raining fire 
On wedding parties will be burned as fuel in the dark season. 

That we will learn the awful hunger of God, the nerve-fraying 
Cry of God, the curdy vomit of God, the soiled swaddle of God, 

The constant wakefulness of God, alongside the sweet scalp 
Of God, the contented murmur of God, the limb-twitched dream-

Reaching of God. We’re dizzy in every departure, limb-lost. 
We cannot sleep in the wake of God, & God will not sleep 

The infant dream for long. We lift the blinds, look out into ink
For light. My God, my God, open the spine binding our sight.

I'll rein in my inner poetry critic and spare you a total analysis of the poem, but I do want to point out the first line of the 4th stanza, "That we will learn the..." which begins a list of descriptions of Emmanuel, God incarnate as one of us, experiencing the total weakness of infancy even though He is the commander of galaxies. The line doesn't start with God learning our human experience, but with us coming to know His experience. On that beautiful, dreadful day when our blessed hope, Jesus, burns up injustice and suffering, then we will know Him. We will know fully what He did to fulfill justice and extend mercy to us.

So for today, I choose hope, and thank God for one more day of grace for those who do not know His mercy.