It’s difficult to fully comprehend the impact you have on the world. I think it’s
exceedingly difficult to anticipate your actions in a high demand crisis environment. I know
I forgot to smile, I know I forgot to say the common and proper greeting in Arabic and
Farsi, and sometimes I’m too stern and not as gracious as I could be.
Yet somehow, I hear amazing things being spoken in our refugee site.
We are located on the island of Lesvos in Greece, which is a very common location for
refugees to try and make their way into Europe. Just across the water lies Turkey where the migrants buy a 1,000 Euro ticket for a seat on a small rubber inflatable boat to get to
European soil to apply for refugee status. It is the greatest example of desperation that I
have seen personally, and we see them arrive 50 at a time, up to a few thousand a day.
The stretch of water is called the Death Grip by some of the migrants. They are packed onto these small boats to such a degree that the motors struggle to move along. Waves can fill the boats with water (and mind you, it’s November in Eastern Europe. We get cold nights), sometimes toss a person out, or even completely capsize the boat. Hypothermia is a real thing, and many people have drowned.
And here I am, volunteering to help them reach their goal safely. I am so grateful for the
opportunity and I still struggle to comprehend that God has chosen someone as small as me to be a part of this. In the grand scheme of the bombs, the smugglers, the government, the doctors, and the camps who will ultimately house these people I am such a tiny and insignificant moment.
Or am I?
So many of the refugees interact with the volunteers here for less than ten seconds at a
time. We hand them an apple and a bottle of water, or we call their ticket letter for them
to load up onto a bus, or we give them directions to the toilet. Our actions seem so small
and menial. I definitely wonder sometimes if there’s more that I could be doing.
And then I hear things like,
“Everyone at this camp is so nice.”
“Why are you helping us?”
“You’re not getting paid to do this?”
“Are you a Christian?”
“You’re the nicest person I’ve talked to today.”
“Is this what Christians are like? I want to be a Christian too.”
I’m sorry, what? I forgot to say hello. I didn’t smile. I told you no. I ran out of blankets
for you and your cold children. I gave you a size 42 pants for your 30 waist. I can’t give
you any more food…
And somehow, these people see something. To them, there is overwhelming evidence that we are significantly different from the smugglers in Turkey and all of the people they have
encountered in Greece, and potentially many of the people who were parts of their life
previously.
I am confident that they see God in us. We believe that the Holy Spirit, the least known
member of the trinity in some circles, lives inside us and empowers us to speak as Jesus
spoke, love as God loves, and live in a manner that cannot be matched.
Let me momentarily say, I will never discount any of the work that non-spiritually founded humanitarian aide provides. I am merely celebrating the fact that God’s spirit is working inside all of the volunteers and changing aspects about our hearts that allow us to bring God to the world in the little ways that we are empowered to do. I mourn all of the losses from ISIS and the fighting that is occurring in the Middle East. I mourn those who die in their journeys. However, I also see God bringing hundreds of thousands of Islamic people to peaceful regions of the world, and even providing opportunities for them to encounter Christians throughout Europe and learn who God is.
I have a few weeks left here in Greece, and I’m going to stand proudly as a representative
of Jesus Christ. I’m going to stand in my forgiven imperfections and love as I have been
loved, and I will pray for all who pass by me. God is good, and he is shining brightly on
the Death Grip.
Let me encourage you as well. I think our situation here is just an example of the many ways every person can shine for God. We’re here in the midst of the refugee crisis, but I think it’s safe to say that many people we encounter in every stage of life and in every country have encountered some form of crisis, and we have the opportunity to shine God’s light there. I’m working in a transitional camp putting people on buses. There are other people on different parts of this island doing the same thing, but God isn’t with them. In the U.S. you can bag groceries or sell cell phones or build houses (or any number of professions) with or without God, and I am confident that people will notice a huge difference between the two.
So draw near to God and he will shine through you wherever you are. Be confident in that and do not underestimate how he can reveal himself.
Thanks again. God bless.
