You know when John writes about Jesus doing way more than he could ever write down? Or the hymn that says if the sky were a scroll and every stalk a pen and the ocean its ink, we would run the ocean dry trying to write down and capture the love and glory and goodness of God? Those are my thoughts after this last month, but maybe less of seeing His goodness and more of just trusting its there. I could literally run out of sky to tell the stories of hurt, injustice, triumph, resurrection, and revelation that I experienced in the past month while working with refugees in Serbia. It was by far the most impactful week I’ve experienced thus far on the Race.
I wrote an email to one of my closest friends to vent my thoughts and feelings the day after we left Serbia. This blog is just that: my raw and real emotions of all that I experienced. You don’t have to agree with it. Heck, I don’t even know if I agree with it all yet. I just know that I need to say something, and right now that something is this…
Hey Moni,
I wish I could sit on your bed and stare at that old green window with you while I cry and share all the heavy thoughts rolling around in my head. But I’m in Budapest and you aren’t, so I suppose this will have to do. I want to share with you all the things happening here, not just in my heart and head, but in these countries. They’re so good. And they’re also so sad. The Lord has opened my heart in ways that I didn’t know He could. That’s great, and that’s also incredibly heavy.
There are so many crazy intricate details that point to God being such a good Father who gives good gifts. He truly does answer when we ask. We were originally so excited about going to Greece to work with refugees, but then it got switched to other random countries we knew nothing about. We ended up getting assigned to Serbia last month but we weren’t assigned a ministry host. Instead, our job was to find new partners for the organization for future teams to work with. We prayed to find a ministry serving refugees, but we found others. Those were great and there are so many stories in the first couple of weeks that matter. I do want to share them, but the most impactful part of my race so far– the part I really need to share right now– happened this last week in the capital, Belgrade, Serbia.
We were still looking for partners for our organization when I randomly reconnected with a girl, Jessica, who was a commuter student from Olivet. I met her at Second Place Church (remember that church about 45 minutes outside of Olivet?). I stumbled across her Instagram and saw that she is working with refugees in Serbia. THE LORD! He knew that my team and I desperately wanted to work with the refugee crisis, and he was working out a way for us to do it. So early last week, we met with Jessica and her two friends from Trevecca (#nazarenesunite) and joined them for a week of ministry at what they call the barracks. It’s the home of about 1,000 refugees.
My team with the three rockstars in front on Easter in Belgrade.
Here’s where it gets a little technical. The “barracks” as they call them is not a camp for refugees. It is an abandoned train station– literally a cracking concrete building without windows or doors, open to the elements. All the people living there are illegally squatting until they can get into another country. They could possibly have rights if they registered in the country; however, Serbia’s government is corrupt and wouldn’t be a good country to settle in. Also, if Serbia decided they didn’t want to let them stay through the registration process they could deport them back to their home country. So, many of the people choose to squat illegally until they make an attempt to travel to a country they actually want to settle in.
Also, the people we worked with weren’t Syrian refugees like we originally thought. All the men living in the barracks are from Afghanistan and Pakistan– and they aren’t considered refugees (I don’t know who decides this, but they aren’t granted this title that would give them some inherit rights). They are all men running from the war that’s been going on for 16 years because they are the ones in their families that are most at risk of being forced to fight for the government or the Taliban.
Each man had a story. One man had scars all over his body because he happened to walk by a building at the exact moment a bomb went off. He was unconscious for a month after that. When he healed, he left home. One man was a doctor and his partner was killed because he didn’t pay the Taliban the money they demanded without reason. The Taliban threatened him next, so he fled. One man owned a clothing store, but left his profession willingly before being forced out by militants. Those are only a few of the stories of what they fled. There are so many more stories of evils they fled TO.
Many of them walk through Afghanistan, into Iran, Turkey, Bulgaria, and now they’re in Serbia. Most have been stuck in Serbia for at least 4 months. The borders have gotten more and more strict. Many of the men have sat in prison for months given only a slice of daily bread as food while they get beaten, mocked, and criticized for leaving their “safe” country. Many of them said that Serbia conditions are the best they’ve had (even though they just spent a winter in absolute arctic conditions).
Anyway, we spent the week getting to know a handful of these men and the stories they hold. Each one was respectful and protective of us. They truly are good men looking for a peaceful place to settle for their families. When I’d ask them where they dreamed of living many of them would say Afghanistan. Of course they dream of being home!! They don’t want to go through this pain and torture. But they don’t see another option for them or for their families.
Just as we were getting to know them, America dropped the biggest non-nuclear bomb in history in Afghanistan, the home of my new friends and their families. Many of them were calling home to make sure their families were ok. Many others were actually ok with the bombing. They understood that the bombs were supposed to help defeat ISIS. But if America is so set on “helping” the innocent people, how about we open our borders? And even more let’s open our homes to these people who are fleeing evil. Instead, we lock our doors for our own protection while they sit in prisons separated from their families. All they desire is a safe home. Instead, they get stuck in a lose-lose position of running from evil and “helpful”, bomb-happy Americans into the stiff arms of the world telling them there is no room– especially those terrorists!
These are PEOPLE. They have families. They had homes and jobs and a life they loved. Many of them are more gentle, protective, persevering, hospitable, and honest than any man I’ve ever met. Who would have imagined that some of my healing of hurt from men would come from Middle Eastern Muslims in the lowest point of their lives? My standards of what a good man is have risen exponentially.
We also celebrated Easter during our time in Belgrade. The contrast between our hope of freedom, joy, and new life against the painful reality of the hiding, hurt, and devastation I saw in front of me at the barracks was overwhelming. We celebrate our Savior, Jesus, and say, “He is risen!” I hesitate to say, “He is risen, indeed!” Not because I doubt that it’s true, but I’m staring at a reality that says, “It is not finished.”
This Easter I read the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35). It’s the day Jesus was resurrected. Two of the disciples were discussing all the things that happened the past few days when Jesus came up to them on their walk. They didn’t recognize him there, but he was WITH them. One of the disciples said, “We had hoped that he [Jesus] was the one to redeem Israel.” They openly talked about their doubt. They shared the struggle and their confusion.
The stranger (Jesus) responded to their doubt, “Didn’t this have to happen for him to really be the Savior? YES. The Scriptures say so here, here, and here…” They invite the man to dinner and the disciples only recognize the man as Jesus when he breaks bread and then disappears.
“He is WITH us!”
That is when the disciples can say HE IS RISEN INDEED.
“He is WITH us!”
That is when they realize that He IS the Redeemer.
Even in the current state of things…
Even after their terrible week…
Even though nothing else—primarily their government—had changed.
But He was WITH them.
This is what I’m holding on to. He is with me. Even after this confusing, heavy, and incredible week. He is the Redeemer. He is risen, indeed! He will complete the good work He has begun.
Even still, I’m so devastated by the state of evil in this world. I’m so hurt by the way Christians, especially in America—even ME, who have remained ignorant of the pain happening in this world. We are the ones who carry the only hope this world has, but we have traded the hope for our own safety–a safety that’s fleeting. “Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will keep it.” Luke 17:33
I’m in Budapest, Hungary now on our time off… I crossed the Hungary border with ease just because I was born in the United States. My friends in Serbia have scars that tell of the brutal punishment they received for even thinking about coming through this country. I’m having such a hard time enjoying my time here. Why should I get the freedom to travel with ease? Not from anything, and not really for anything either– just for my own entertainment.
Lord, how long? How long must we wait for your justice?
Thanks for being a friend I can write all this to and for being a friend who I know will pray for this as well. Maybe we can chat about this sometime. Don’t feel pressure to respond in any certain way or any time soon or even at all. I just needed to write these words, unfiltered and with honesty.
With love,
Ang
Please be praying for justice for my new friends from Afghanistan and Pakistan. Pray about what that looks like for you. Faith that Jesus will come and restore is great, but faith without action is dead. Let’s go, Church.
