The Price Is Right

What would be your terms if I were to ask to buy your car? What about your time? What would you ask if I wanted to buy your heart? You discover lots of things when you participate in these kinds of intense, ministry/mission events. Actually, that’s not true. You discover lots of things about your kind and gracious God when you let Him show work and when you pay attention.

Day two, Tuesday was a good day, but in a different way. In some ways the kids took it easy on us on Monday. Smiles and good times Monday was, but Tuesday was a bit more challenging.

There is no question they remember us. The recognition of tradition was strong yesterday as Gennady (the director at camp #14 – the older kids) spoke during the opening moments. He has the kids line up in lines, almost like patrols in boy scouts, and then the kids announce their names and whether they are all present and accounted for and then they recite their “poem” or motto, really. Gennady then took a good ten minutes to talk about the camp and to talk about our commitment to them. It’s like we earned a new level, a new rank, amongst them.

The price of this new level of recognition is … whatever price we are willing to pay. You see, Tuesday had more frustration than Monday. At #14, the older kids camp, they were a little more aggressive. Not necessarily mean spirited, but they began to treat us like they treat one another. This would be great if they were gentle kids, but the camp environment is far more Darwinian than Utopian. The strongest and largest and meanest often gets the respect. The week, the disabled, the small, the meek get most of the abuse. Some of the abuse is … typical of kids. Some, however, is not.

Instead of developing a special handshake, a kind nickname, a particular motion or action, we were given a glimpse of their frustration I believe.

I was speaking with one of the translators and with one of the camp leaders and was hearing a story that truly broke my heart. The older camp is now experiencing “second generation” kids. These are kids that have come to the camps, gotten pregnant (sometimes by choice, sometime by force) and now the children are sending their children to the camps. It is a story that often becomes more sad and lonely as it is told.

But, in spite of all this and in many ways, in light of all this comes the following realization. Their treatment of us indicates, in my opinion, a sign of expected acceptance. It speaks of us becoming one of then. The window to their world has grown from a peephole to a full size window.

The price of this acceptance is that we are absolutely willing to take and see the worst in the kids because we want to give and show the absolute best. The love we have for these kids shrinks away like dried fruit in light of the love God has for them.

Please know that we covet your prayers. Yesterday was a little frustrating for some, but not for all. We had some challenging kids in both camps. We’re not getting all the time with the kids we had hoped for, it’s chaotic at times, and we’re still trying to sleep in an environment of “White Nights”. But we are absolutely looking toward the day when one, some, or many of these kids will confess with their mouths and believe in their hearts that Jesus Christ is Lord.

The Power of Touch

First day. It was a great day yesterday. The camps had not changed much – the kids a year taller, but altogether the same kids and same camps as last year. At #14, the older kids camps, we were able to quickly get into the groove and get the day done. We have to consciously remember that it’s not about completing the schedule or punching a clock, it’s about presenting ourselves to the kids. Day 1 is always about camaraderie more than anything else. And it’s about seeing what worked in our planning times back in Amarillo and what will work in the reality that is the camps.

#40, the younger kids came towards the end of the day. We arrived on time, but there was a man who worked with dogs that was there entertaining the kids. We didn’t get our full allotment of time with them, less than an hour and a half, but we got lots of smiles. The younger kids are more about the touch and smile than the talk and sports. They are busy, they are loud, they are crazy at times and you cant help but chuckle when they react to you. You sit down, look at them, your reaction mirrors God’s in that you laugh at their energy and tenderness and you realize they know. They know a fundamental truth about themselves even tough their mental and, often physical, capacity is limited.

That truth is this: that they are loved. That they are loved, they are desired, and that they are made in the image of a gracious God. This is not an enormous revelation mind you, but it is profound. There is a degree of sadness when one comes here. The conditions are not typical of Western standards. This is not a vacation camp. You don’t send your kids here so they can play with their friends and so you can have some peace. This is their life.

So we returned to the hotel, had dinner (kind of) and had our team meeting. We washed off the bug spray, ink, and drool. We took showers and reset everything for today. But more than anything else, we witnessed something. We witnessed that God is alive and well. That He loves children. We witnessed that He still heals through the power of touch. 

Only The Dirty Can Get Cleaned

Where to begin? Today is the break-in day. You have one day to get in groove with where you are. Now, if you have never traveled overseas, then this may not seem to be all that difficult, but after having been removed and moved over 9 time zones, you feel a little … out of sorts. Languages, food, atmosphere, customs, sites, smells, paperwork, norms, expectations, etc, etc, etc - this all seems to conspire to kill you. Elaine keeps asking, “What time is it in Texas?” and usually someone retorts with “Don’t you mean what day is it?” You spend so much time, energy, and money preparing for a trip like this and then when it gets here, you feel like you volunteered to see what being washed in a washing machine feels like only to be followed by really desiring to see how that “Gentle Cycle” on the dryer works out.

“Bang … bang… bang …”

“What is that, your shoes in the washing machine?”

“No, that’s my head – I’m in the washing machine.”

Then the hotel appears, you get attacked by a strange bed after having found the slot you put the key in to get the electricity to your room turned on only after having discovered that the AC control was installed by the same people who put them in Glorieta - you can set it on “Cool” all you want, but it’s just a fan, kind sir! Then you wake up wondering the same things all over again and further wondering whose idea it was to place the pickled herring and meatballs at breakfast in such close proximity with the boiled eggs. “There’s no bathroom on the bus, you know!” Meanwhile, Tad, Bandon and I are finishing off our fourth cups of coffee (they were small cups, honey) and laughing at the irony of coming this far just around the world just to discover another group of Americans (from Brigham Young University) that are studying Russian, one of which, having just graduated from my former high school in Marietta, Georgia. “POW!” World’s collide.

“Thud … thud … thud …”

“What’s that thumping sound?”

“It’s me. In the dryer.”

World’s collide and the energy dispelled, propels. Feel free to put that on a bumper sticker.

After a day of tourism and a two-hour team meeting where we watched Joella’s head spin around (she could organize the rocks on the moon, and still have time left over for a mission trip!) while giving us our marching orders for tomorrow. And march we shall. We’ll be downstairs with luggage (we head to our next hotel) at 7:30, eat breakfast, and load up by 830am. Then a two hour ride where we’ll disgorge into our new home for the next five nights and then immediately run off to the two camps. Return to our unseen rooms, another meeting, another opportunity to watch Joella, and then rinse and repeat … I mean, get up and do it all over again.

But amidst all of this, something happens when God is at work and you’re staying out of His way. You know how all the clothes sometimes turn into a rope while they are in the washing machine or dryer? No? Okay, well it happens to me more often that I have told Anne. You pull out the one pair of jeans you want and everything else is all wound up and just comes right out as well. Looks like Man vs. Wild used them to climb out of a window. Well, when God is involved, and He would not do this to your laundry without good reason, you go through this process with a group of people and a similar effect happens. Where one goes, the others go. What one feels, the other feels. It’s called being a family. It’s called serving the unserved, loving the unloved and giving from our lack instead of our excess. It’s depending on God and his adopted children for … everything. It’s saying, “Take my life Lord. No, seriously Lord, take it. Not just lyrics, take it. If my life will save one other life, you can have it!”

Tomorrow is the first day of five. We begin an adoption process tomorrow. The kids will adopt us and we’ll adopt them and prayerfully, somewhere in that process, somewhere over the next five days, if the ground is good, if the seed is well cast, and God desires it – maybe, just maybe we’ll get to see the sprouts of what will be a future brother or sister in Christ. Another adopted son or daughter of the kingdom.

“BuZZZZZZZZ!”

“What’s that buzzing sound?”

“It’s me getting out of the dryer. I’m done.”

“How was it?”

 

“Cleansing.”

All Accounted For

We're here! Everyone made it safe and sound. Al the luggage made it, everyone has a little sanity left, and although our bodies are exhausted, our hearts are just fine. I will post some more tomorrow night, but know that your prayers were felt and answered! Someone please call Anne, our home computer is down, and let her know we're doing well!

More tomorrow, it's late ...

David

Day of Days

Yes, I know I am borrowing from Band Of Brothers, but the title still fits, as does the mood of adventure, service, and love. Tomorrow, 18 of us leave for St. Petersburg, Russia. One of our team members left early in order to visit a friend, but the rest of us begin our adventure tomorrow. Or did we begin it back when we first confessed Jesus as Christ? Either way, tomorrow is a big day. 14 hours of flying time, 24 hours of travel time. 3 different planes, lots of bags and lots of supplies. We'll stay in three different hotels while we are there and we'll work with over 100 orphans from 3 years old to 19 years old. We'll color, we'll play, we'll laugh, we'll cry, and we'll be blessed for it.

Please keep us in your prayers and check this blog daily for updates! God is good!

Here we go!

David

A New Year

Raise your hand if you love spring? I can't believe it, some of you actually allow your runny noses and watery eyes to dictate your dislike of spring. Shame! I love spring. Taxes are filed (and money is owed!), my birthday (May 1st), my dad's & brothers' birthdays (April 28 & May 13 respectively), flowers, allergies, sunny evenings, seeing Zachary in short sleeves (I get to gnaw on his bear arms), and all things new. Spring rocks. And Easter. The reason for it all. No Easter, no Christmas (it would have been just another kid born in a barn). Know Easter, know Christmas! Did I say I loved spring?

Another reason is because it is time to return to doing what I truly love - being overseas. Not overseas, but being on the pointy end of ministry. There are many pointy ends in Amarillo, but there is something about being away from everything that we depend on, everything that we know and trust, and love and allowing ourselves to find a deeper dependence on God. All the things we do here are more difficult there, so it follows that as we practice faith here, we survive by faith there.

A new year. A new Russia trip. Some new folks, some old-timers. What I see in this team is what I saw last year -a unique group of people that God has great plans for. I have seen the list of kids at the orphanages and there are some names missing, which means there are still parts of my heart that I will never see again. But there are many names I know, and many new names as well. What is truly Godly is that God knows all these names. He knows their struggles & successes. He knows the hair on their heads, their personalities, their dreams and their fears ... and He knows us.

Luke 12:35 tells us to "Be ready and keep your lamps burning." Okay God, make us ready. Light our lamps. Give us the fuel we need, the direction, the leadership, the challenges and the grace and heart to see the orphans as you do. It's a new year in Russia, but thankfully, it's still the same God.

Time in a bottle

What is it about time that is so alluring to us? We’ve been back two weeks and already, the clock has attacked. I think one of the things that make mission trips so … remarkable is that for a few days, we don’t focus on ourselves. Duh, I know.

I was watching some golf on TV this afternoon - it’s Sunday and we don’t have cable, so it’s either that or some 30 minute add for injectible (is this a word?) botulism - and I chuckled when a pro golfer looked down at his watch in the middle of the 12th hole. Now think about this – what is he looking at his watch for? Does he have a date? Is there a movie coming on that he does not want to miss? Is he bored? Why do we always want to know what time it is unless of course we are so deep into something that the lights can be turned off in the hall outside your office and you don’t even notice? You know why? It’s because there is something within us that whispers that there is something else we could be doing. It says things like; “You have a meeting” or “you’re going to miss class” or “no, it’s not over yet” or something else along those lines. Let’s face it, we have the spiritual attention span of a puppy.

Western thought is time oriented. Everything we do is based around the next thing we need to do. We don’t focus on the now, we focus on the next. Fitting people in, fitting jobs or work in, fitting God in, fitting our family in. To stay organized I have a PDA, a MacBook, and an iMac, and that’s just for work and they all just seem to make me wonder about what I have not accomplished. Anne has several calendars as well and when we go out on a date without Zachary, do you know what we talk about at dinner? We go through our calendars. We’re slaves.

In Russia, we only worried about two different times – what time the bus left the following morning and what time we needed to get up to catch said bus after we consumed our allotment of croissants and boiled eggs. Okay, that’s not entirely true – we did have to work within a time schedule at the orphanages. At the older kids (we worked with them from 1030am to 2pm) we needed to watch the clock to make our rotations. 40 minutes each of a craft, a Bible lesson, and a sport. We rotated so that everyone could do everything everyday, but there was one standing order – if a child was wanting to go deep – stay there, forget the clock.

At the little kids orphanage, (330pm until 530 or 6pm) we just watched the clock because there never seemed to be enough time to do the things we wanted to do, once we found them. (Raise your hand if humming Jim Croce. Funny enough, he wrote that song after the birth of his first ... child.) Time in a bottle? I’ll take a 2-liter with ice. With these little kids, the end of our time denoted the end of the day, which reminded us that we had one less day with the kids. Which made us look at our watches to see what day it was and then count down how many days we had left.

When we lived overseas, we lived in a culture where a 2-hour visit to someone’s home constituted a short stop over. If you wanted to borrow sugar, plan for a 2-hour, coffee fed discussion in a language you barely speak, but is friendly and loving none-the-less. Shopping for a week’s worth of food took you all day. Not kidding. All day, because everyone wants to talk to you. The people never focused on time, they focused on events. You did not “have” to do anything. We would set a meeting for a certain time and when that time came only the Americans would be there – the nationals were still wandering town spending time with people- - how dare they! A spirit led, Family Circus like serpentine path being the fastest way between two points. What would our lives be like if we spent all of our time focusing on others and not on our own agenda and …

I love Anne and Zachary, but I ache for those orphans. Still, two weeks after returning, I ache. Looking at the pictures, finding bottles of bubbles in the bottom of my backpack, talking to the new friends that were, always will be, my teammates only serves to rub in that I miss those kids. Not just the kids, I miss the focus, the energy, the passion, the love. Your whole world revolved around someone other than you. You did not matter, others mattered. I miss that.

I miss being about someone else other than myself. The duffel bags are all gone – they’re in Kenya now with the next mission team. The “Russia room” where we prepped looks like a museum - a display of missional effort. We’re all back into our work, back into our lives, but I find myself looking over at Anne and saying; “I miss being overseas on the mission field." But if I were honest. If I really wanted to be truthful, I would say this; “I miss being solely about others.”

We are perfectly made and uniquely gifted not for our own work or our own betterment or our own agenda. We are perfectly made and uniquely gifted to serve God in whatever capacity He asks. We are children of the King, adopted heirs, God’s aliens & strangers in this world and we should savor, marinate ourselves, in the time God has given us to serve Him until He calls us home. Others, not self.

On second thought, keep the time in a bottle; I’ll take an ocean of God’s love for mankind. Maybe I won’t be so rushed to drink it all in.