Second, I would like to THANK YOU FOR YOUR PRAYER, and to assure you that YOUR PRAYERS HELPED!!! As anyone who has gone on a mission trip knows, outreach is no picnic. Our enemy loves to get us ruffled, or get us all up in arms, or take us out completely--and I assure you, there are many, tailored variations of each. Despite difficulties on the trip, however, I found myself stunningly calm, and there were even times when God used me to encourage my teammates with a new perspective. There were also various times when things did not seem to go as planned, but God made things run smoothly, and even brought good out of it. In many ways, I feel like I coped way better during Outreach Phase than I did in Lecture Phase. And that can be only thanks to prayer. So, thank you. :)
So much happened during the last 2 months that it would take a lengthy blog entry EVERY DAY to even semi-capture it. Each day easily felt like 3 in 1, so that by nighttime, remembering the events of the morning felt like thinking back to days ago. So, for the sake of your sanity (and mine), I will try to summarize as briefly as I can the main points of each segment of Outreach Phase. Keep in mind, however, that we were in Czech Republic for almost a month, and much happened there, so that summary will inevitably be longer. Skim over what you know from previous entries and Facebook, fill in what you don't know...I'm not offended if you don't read the whole thing, but I figure it's better if I write enough so you know what you invested in.
Border Walk 2014
200 miles (350km) of crisscrossing the international border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland! Our passports were not really necessary, as there was no one to check for them, but we did have to pay for snacks (and occasionally to use bathrooms) in a different currency every time we crossed the border (pounds sterling vs. euros). A couple nights in Darkley we got to sleep in beds, but the rest of the time we slept in our sleeping bags in one big room, either on the floor or stretched across a line of chairs, in a church building or reconciliation centre. There were a few staff members who were responsible for driving our luggage from one town to the next, and delivering snacks and water to us on the road, as well as meal-planning and buying food to make.
The honest truth is that many of us were unable to walk the entire 200 miles; our bodies simply would not let us without sustaining too much damage. There was not one person who did not get blisters. My tennis shoes were too worn to last for so many miles, so though I brought them along just in case, I walked in my waterproof Merrell boots from R.E.I. for the entire border walk, in doubled-up socks...and only got two blisters, which never got infected. (So, again, thank you SO MUCH for your avid prayers!) I did, however, mess up my Achilles tendons somehow. My calves were fine once they warmed up, though tired (along with my hip-flexers, and the rest of my legs), but it slowly became apparently that flimsy ankles was not my real problem. With many miles still in front of me, I had to make a decision: push it today and pay for it tomorrow, or rest today and be able to walk several more days in a row. I chose to rest...and then discovered that it was going to take more than one day of rest to heal me. Again, I had a choice to make: Wait out the rest of the days, and walk into London-derry/Derry--which was the REAL destination in my heart--or be macho and try to bulk out the rest of the walk (and probably fail before I reached Londonderry/Derry). I decided that Londonderry/Derry was too important. I waited, helping the staff with their errands and such, and then walked the last 15+ miles into Londonderry/Derry.
While I was forced to rest, I was reminded of how much I hate not being able to do what everyone else can. I also learned that it was easy for me to put my head down, block out God, and plod forward with a single-minded determination when things get painfully mundane (i.e. walking on an empty road on sore feet for miles, the countryside starting to blur together and everything look the same). It took being forced to sit out in order to not only listen to what God was saying that I didn't want to hear, but also to be outside of the happenings enough to discern what was going on in each place, and to actually contribute helpfully to the group.
There was also that time when we walked behind the Orange Men, and I asked God to make it rain... You'll have to ask me about that story when I get back. ;)
Germany
"Wha-whaaat? Germany? That wasn't on the list!" No kidding. But since we got stuck there for three days because the storm cancelled our connecting flight, and since stuff about Germany kept coming up during our whole trip, I figured Germany was prevalent enough to make the list. There was definitely something of a German theme going on. We were stuck in the airport in Frankfurt while the German team was playing in the World Cup in Brasil...and they won. Most of the Albanian kids we worked with had dreams of escaping to Germany. In the Czech Republic, I had a conversation with an American missionary who had stayed in Germany for awhile, and he told me that although the German people are very structured, they are actually very passionate on the inside. (Interesting.) And then there was the WWII concentration camp we visited, also in Czech Republic. And then last week, a missionary I visited in Ballina (in the Republic of Ireland) was talking about having served as a missionary in Germany. Talk about recurring themes...
I had a hard time with being in Germany, because I don't actually like Germany. I have nothing personal against the country. It's just that I've been there before, and I didn't like the atmosphere then either. (It doesn't really help that I found myself sinking into a rhythm there, because their national tendency toward structure is my internal tendency--a tendency I have been trying to break free of.) Being stuck there wouldn't have been my first choice. But when our plane first landed in Frankfurt, God pressed on my heart to pray for the people. You can imagine how thrilled I was at the time. But I think He's been changing my heart. As to why, only time may tell.
Being stuck in Germany did, however, provide us a nice break after the strains of border walk, forcing us to rest when we would have otherwise run straight ahead. Because the airline cancelled our flights AND everyone else's, we stood in line with perhaps a couple thousand other people for 5-6 hours...and then they ended up giving everyone hotel vouchers. So we stayed in two nice hotels (two nights) for free. And we met some interesting people in line, including Paouvolos (I'm probably spelling his name atrociously) from Lithuania--talk about a divine appointment. The sad part was, we were all stuck in the same clothes for 3 days. Yuck.
Durres, Albania
When going to Albania, it was obvious to me that I was going there not as a destination, but to follow Jesus; Jesus was walking into Albania (in a manner of speaking), so I would too. Albania was hard for me, for two particular reasons. First, I don't know if you realize this, but Albania is HOT, and Ireland is NOT! We had no air conditioning, and though we had a nice flat to stay in, we had only one fan between the 8 of us and 4 rooms (that's including the living room/kitchen area). We were literally dripping sweat all the time, whether inside or outside--except in the sanctuary/auditorium, which was often air conditioned. I took cold showers before bed to help me cool down and sleep, but it was not long before I was sweating again. If you know anything about me, you know that heat and I do NOT mix well together; usually I just stop functioning altogether (but, by God's grace, this time I did not--again, thank you for your prayers).
The other difficult thing for me in Albania had to do with the men--not the Christian guys (they were like another breed entirely, truly set apart from the world), but the guys on the street. Although it used to be a proud Christian country, Albania has been through communism, and has a very large Muslim population. Both of those elements add to the overall atmosphere and mindset of the country, though I'll leave you to decide how much. And Albania relies heavily on tourism, particularly in summertime (and there is sex trafficking). But the men...let's just say that I watched groups of men sitting around tables watch a girl cross the street like a pack of hungry dogs, and that we were told not to make eye contact with any men we passed on the street because it would give them the wrong idea. I mean, I know men have a lot of temptations to deal with, but I'm just not used to this kind of mentality. It made me perpetually tense. Getting stalked down the beach didn't help. I was told that because of my skin tone, I could pass as an Albanian, which made me want to be extra careful because I wasn't sure "I'm a foreigner" excuses would be able to get me out of trouble.
When we got to the place we were staying in Durres at 3am on our lesson prep day, having lost a travel recooperation day, we were able to sleep in...but then we quickly realized that we had not planned everything to a "T" the way we should have for the coming week. For whatever reason, we had been under the impression that we were only teaching during the week, and hanging out with the kids the rest of the time. In reality, we were supposed to run the entire week, including games and workshops, and have everything scheduled into exact time windows. In addition, I had agreed to teach on a second topic (Sin, Repentance, and Forgiveness--which I had not yet studied for) besides my original topic of Intercession, and those teaching days would be back-to-back. My responsibility on the trip was meal-planning, so I needed to make a lot of trips to the local store (though, thankfully, I had help). And then I got a cold. Talk about crazy!
Two highlights: First, God really developed my gift of teaching. Thus far, I had only ever tutored people, or maybe given a testimony or told a story, or done a school presentation; I had never actually taught a session before. It was like teaching a class of all ages, without knowing how much your students understood of what you were saying, and trying to simplify your wording so that it could be accurately translated. The first time I taught, I quickly learned that we had grossly overestimated the amount of time it would take to translate, and that I needed more colorful examples instead of just material. By the time I taught the next day, on my original topic, I actually went over my time instead of under.
The second highlight was when we visited the families of some of the kids. The family that I visited was so incredibly hospitable and generous to us. They welcomed us warmly and accepted us in as part of their family, sharing with us whatever they had and even asking us to stay the night with them. All three of us who went to that house were so touched...We were due back in an hour, and we stayed for five.
I also want to share that the kids themselves were probably the greatest encouragement of all. A 19-year-old youth pastor, a 16-year-old youth leader, a 14-year-old worship leader... My gosh, how God is raising up these kids! I met 14-year-olds more mature than many people in their twenties. When was the last time you went to a church where the worship team on a Sunday morning was made up of teenagers? I tell you, God is calling teens, and they are rising to the challenge. It's going to revolutionize men in that country.
Uvaly & Prague, Czech Republic
I'll be honest: I fell in love with this place, and I didn't realize how deep that went until our last day in Prague. Sure, we got bedbugs the size of ladybugs in a hostel (whose bites I turned out to be allergic to--thank you for your anti-bug prayers!), and I caught bronchitis, and there was so much cigarette smoke on the streets of Prague that my throat began to close. And yes, the city of Prague transforms at night, and becomes another animal entirely...and yes, it is known for its clubs and its prostitution as well as its tourism. And yes, the Czech Republic is considered the most Atheist country in Europe, and WWII and communism have swept through and left behind a lot of internal damage. But I stinkin' love the Czech people. And their country and their architecture are beautiful. So much creativity. So much detail. So much passion for life--though I think, sometimes, they don't see it in themselves (but it's still there).
We spent the first week in Uvaly, a small town about 45 minutes outside of Prague. We, and many missionaries from various mission organizations and walks of life around the world, joined together to help the small Christian community in Uvaly host their annual week-long English Camp. The day camp was like a cross between a Vacation Bible School program and teaching English by exposure. The kids were divided up by age groups and then by gender, with an English-speaking camp counselor and a translator assigned to each group. The youngest kid was probably six, the oldest being high schoolers. We were asked to request ahead of time the age group we preferred. I requested teens, which I was granted. The teens were with everyone for worship, and lunch, and for the parent presentation at the end of the week, but all other sessions or workshops were done as a combined group of teenage boys and girls, separate from the younger kids. Because boys and girls were combined, I had a male co-leader, and we each had a translator. To my great surprise, my co-leader and I turned out to have a lot in common, as far as how we had ended up where we were currently. And, since he lives in Prague as an English teacher, and Prague was my team's next destination, we ended up meeting up with him several times after English camp was over, all but adopting him into our team.
English camp was a lot of fun, even with some language barriers. Because I was with teenagers, they had a better grasp on English than the younger kids, and were often able to translate for one another, so we were more able to have conversations. They were also rather thrilled to discover that I am from California. ;) At least two of the girls in my group were writers, which was something we had in common. The other English camp staff were fun to converse with as well, especially to hear stories of their ministries and experiences. Camp itself could be stretching, making sure we knew where the kids were at all times, trying to cross language barriers to have meaningful conversations, and as counselors we had to share a testimony every day along a certain theme. While I was glad for the given themes, as it gave me direction, it was startling how personal it felt to delve into my life and pull out personal struggles to bare before people I had just met. Still, I think it was good to do so, because sharing such things builds trust. I only hope some of it sank in, and was helpful.
The first couple nights in Uvaly, we stayed in a hostel. The rest of the time, we stayed with host families. My host family was lovely. :)
Prague in high tourism season was an entirely different experience, and outreach was not like your classic "mission trip." Think city missions--closer to how you would do ministry at home. I think that was actually really good for us, both as a team, and for me personally. You see, when you go somewhere like Thailand for ministry (which I have done before), you expect to see crazy stuff--outright demonic activity, and the brandished hand of God. But when you go somewhere like a big city in a non-third-world country, the reality is that many people are either completely closed off to God, or they engage in the occult behind-the-scenes. How do you confront something subtle like that? Lucky for me, I spent the last couple years of my life in a cityscape, with people who are earnestly seeking for ways to do just that in their living and working communities, and many of the strongholds in Prague (like depression, or wild abandon--and there are many more) are strongholds that I have already had to deal with in my own life. But for my team, most of them had their hearts set on seeing mind-boggling miracles--which probably would have happened if we had gone somewhere like Thailand. But God had another plan: to show us ministries that were just as powerful right where we were at.
You see, we miss the effectiveness of things like playing worship in a park until two homeless men join us with a guitar, or a homeless couple dances to the music like nobody's watching. We forget that we're loving people by dancing chest-to-chest, cheek-to-cheek with the man who smells--that, in effect, we are actually loving God by doing these things. We don't realize that that medical student is the same guy who is passing out fliers for a strip club to support himself, or that that prostitute over there counts her self-worth by whether or not she makes enough money to send back to her kid in Bulgaria. We see the rampant atheism, and we think that God has abandoned the city--that there is no hunger for God. But there is. We don't see the three older ladies gathering at 7am to pray at the head of a street that was filled with debauchery and drunk on sex the night before. We don't see the woman lingering with her stroller on the edge of our worship circle in the park, faking like she dropped something she has to pick up. We are so blind, we just don't see.
How can we do ministry, if we can't see? Why do you expect people to hear you from a street corner, when you do not love? What do you already have, that you're not giving away? It could be as simple as drawing a picture, and handing it to someone. It could be as simple as playing a guitar in a park. It could be as simple as sitting next to a scary-looking stranger on a bench, or handing the man with no legs a sandwich and sitting with him as he eats it. It could be as simple as shaking hands with a drug addict who is not wearing much under her trench coat. Why, oh why, don't we see?
