I wasn’t ready for it. I wasn’t ready for the culture shock. I wasn’t ready for the stories we would hear. I wasn’t ready to see people suffering in a seemingly never-ending state of transition. I wasn’t even ready to see and experience the joy they have in the midst of such trials. I wasn’t ready to face and live in the midst of refugees’ reality. I just wasn’t ready.
As we traveled from Europe to Asia, the time of transition was rough anyway for me personally as I sunk deeper and deeper in self-pity. All in the same week, I had missed our annual family campout, my little brother’s grad party and birthday (for the sixth time now due to being overseas and away at school), and I missed being there for my little sister while she said goodbye to her husband for his seven-month deployment. To me these were just a few of so many big family moments I would have loved to be there for this year but instead, I was about to get on a plane to a pocket of the world I never cared for or planned on going to. While still feeling nervous and a pinch frustrated that our route changed to now include five months of Asia instead of four, I knew the LoRd had a plan in it all and continued to pray that He would change and prepare my heart for what was to come. Whether I was ready or not, there was a ticket from Turkey to Indonesia with my name on it.
When we got to Indonesia, it was easy to distract myself by jumping in and helping take care of the squad and logistical issues while we got settled into one big place together. For the first time this year, we had a spot to stay and ministry set in place for us at a school in the middle of a refugee community outside of Jakarta, Indonesia. Over the course of our time there we understood that most of the refugees came from Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Iran, and Ethiopia. While there is a long conversation that could be had from multiple points of view, the most simplistic answer to why, is that most of these refugees were Muslims running away from the persecution of other Muslims, for not being devout or good enough Muslims. While some people expressed curiosity and an open heart towards Christianity or multiple other religions, it was not talked about openly due to the consequences of walking away from Islam. Many of the people we met made the journey from home to Indonesia, with the hopes of eventually landing in their dream country, Australia, one of the few countries left with open arms towards refugees and enough space available to take them in.
We went from always finding our own ministry to having more ministry and needs in front of us than we could handle or meet. Some of the community welcomed us joyfully with open arms, and some of them were much more reserved as they observed our every move for the first week or so. Without much time to rest, we got plugged in and offered up our skills or what we studied to the teachers at the school. After sharing that I studied counseling, I found myself being asked to conduct sessions for people who had experienced and are still experiencing severe trauma. My squad-mate Grace and I went in together for these sessions completely recognizing our lack of expertise and licensure, fully dependent on the Holy Spirit for wisdom to know what to say and how to handle many stories depicting extreme brutality from the Taliban, losses of loved ones, and confusion of how to handle the stresses of everyday life as a refugee in a foreign land. Some people had been living in Indonesia for a few months while some had been there for the upwards of seven to ten years, just waiting for their number to be called to move on to Australia. The majority of families were divided, some stuck in their homeland, some who had made it to Indonesia, while some were lucky enough to make it all the way to Australia!
The harsh reality is that at times in the middle of the negativity, pessimism, or defeat, I identified with it. Their feelings and emotions are so valid, especially without the hope of Christ. It never ceases to be the hardest thing to have someone share a difficult story and look you straight in the eyes asking what we have that can make their lives better. It’s tough to look them in the eyes back and say I have no money or materials to give you, but in faith we share the gospel hoping that just for a moment we get past their souls and touch their spirit.
It was incredible to see throughout the course of our three weeks there how the communities melted together. While some people felt called to volunteer in multiple classrooms and places around town, I sensed the LoRd asking me to return to the same classroom of 10-15 year olds every day to teach English, math, culture, and science. (Shout-out to every teacher in the world… May the LoRd bless you richly. That work is not for the faint of heart.) We found ourselves a part of dance, birthday, movie, and dinner parties, soccer and swimming dates with the little ones, volleyball competitions, and a part of possibly hundreds of Uno games. Our door was revolving and our table was always full. Every person in the squad had multiple opportunities to love on and share Isa Almasi (Jesus) with many through our actions and occasionally our words. It was a tough place to stay and the spiritual atmosphere was heavy and oppressive, but it brought each of us to a sweet place of dependence on Him to get through it all.
