It’s seems insurmountable to incapsulate what it was to spend a month volunteering in a refugee camp, in words, let alone in just a short blog update. How do I convey the all sadness, all the hurt, all the brokenness, all the desperation and lack of hope I saw?
Walking into the camp at Idomeni the first day I looked around and felt totally and completely helpless. And so naive.
What was I thinking coming here. Who do I think I am to show up here like I can do anything to actually help these people who are literally fleeing for there lives. They need passports and doctors for their sick kids. They need more than a 2 person tent to shelter their families. They need a real home. They need money. They need jobs to provide for themselves and their loved ones. I can’t give them any of these things.
What really was I thinking I could do when I met them face to face. Surely it wasn’t saying no I can’t help you. But that was my reality. Every day.
“You can help me, my friend?”
“No, I can’t. I don’t know any lawyers and I don’t have baby food. I’m sorry. So so sorry. “
“My friend my friend, you know what’s happening ? You know the news? What are they going to do about the borders? Is there anything new?”
“I’m really sorry but I don’t know”
I’ve never felt as helpless in my life as I had that first day. And it sent me straight to the one who has all our answers. He brought me to the story of Peter and John the day they went to the temple and encountered the lame beggar.
He was poor, physically broken, needy. And he wanted money. Pmeter said to him I don’t have what you want but I have what you need and that I can give to you. And with that the man, who was lame from birth, was healed. Then that man praised and glorified God.
God reminded me that though I physically having nothing to give them I have what’s of even greater value than ‘silver or gold’.
Because I know the truth. I have hope.
Because I know the prince of peace I have peace.
Because I know the Father I have a love that’s not my own to give away. It’s the love that transforms and frees. It has no bounds, no borders and no end.
God didn’t orchestra my being here at this refugee camp so that I could buy them houses or put them on planes to safe places. He brought me here to be a physical representation of the life He offers. He brought me here so that I could carry light into darkness.
This reminder didn’t make it any less heart breaking to say no to people but it did make it so much sweeter when I could hug the women who became my friends. Or when I could sit with them for hours in their tents, drinking tea, and listening to their stories. Because I knew that these were the moments that showed the heart of Jesus. I loved them, I cared about them. And I wanted to spend time with them.
I wasn’t just another volunteer handing them an apple, never to see them again. I wanted to know them. To be with them.
Today was our last day of ministry in Greece and at the camp. And saying goodbye to Iman, Hitham, Asil, Wesaam and their families was impossible for my heart. I must’ve hugged Iman 4 or 5 times prolonging the inevitable. I don’t how much longer they will have to live in tents scraping by on eggs and tomatoes and dirty clothes. And I hate that I get to leave and they have to stay. It’s seems so unfair. But what I do know is that God will still be with them. And He loves them infinitely more than I ever could. And so I will choose to trust that He will provide and protect them, that His Spirit will work in their hearts and I will pray that one day they will come to know Him like I do. 
