We lived in a church the whole month of Jordan. We were in a city mere miles from the Syrian border that had exploded in growth driven by the refugees (80,000 Syrians lived in the city we were in). 30,000 received help from the church. The church we lived in had also experienced similar growth, starting from a one level church to a church that shot up towards the sky, adding in two more levels for a new scantuary, a mezzanine (kitchen, common area), a community center for the English school, housing for rotating volunteers, a prayer room on the rooftop and even a room on top of the roof at the very tip of the church. The church was unapologetic about itself with prominent crosses everywhere, on the gates, on the rooftops.
We weren’t allowed to take photos outside as we didn’t want to raise suspicions about our intentions and didn’t want to be seen as spies. So the photos I shared in my previous post about Jordan were photos taken from the rooftop, inside our distribution truck, or in the homes of Syrian refugees.
Us 7 girls stayed in our own room with bunk beds and a bathroom in the women quarters in the church. We would wake up and take the stairs downstairs, passing the community center, and the two levels of almost completed scantuary, open the double doors to the kitchen (the stairs were indoors but also semi open air) and everyone would be hustling and bustling to make breakfast. We had our team of 7 and other teams rotated in and out. There was a team of 30 from France who were living in Jerusalem and studying their theology degrees, a team from Egypt, from Norway, from the states, from Brazil, from Chile…we were truly international and the mix of languages was both absurd and fun.
We would make breakfast and if we weren’t scheduled early in the morning, sit for the volunteer meeting where we shared highlights and testimonies and got the schedule for the rest of the day. The opportunities that I served in were English school at the church, Syrian house visits, distribution visits, Syrian school, women’s ministry, a Christmas play, Christmas caroling at the hospital, new refugee registration, cleaning and more cleaning.
English school at the church consisted of both Syrian and Jordanian students, young and old who would study English from beginner level to advanced. There was another team of English teachers who would instruct them. Our main role was to unlock the church gates and bring the students from the ground level in the elevator to the community center. Unless they were only men in which case we’d find another male worker/volunteer to bring them up or we would escort them to the elevator and they would go up. Then we’d sit in a classroom and engage and participate in class or stay down and make conversation with others at the ground level. English school was fun and it was easy to engage in conversation and I would usually learn some cultural tidbits or Arabic in my classroom sessions.
Syrian house visits were really eye opening. We would either walk from the church to their home or take a taxi (it was invariably 1 JD anywhere in the taxi) and we would usually come bearing gifts of food, such as oil, flour, canned goods, sugar, tea…etc, warm clothing items or toys for the children.
We would walk in and almost every single Syrian home would have a living area of mattresses and cushions laid on the ground and we would sit and talk for hours. Sometimes there would be peeling paint on the walls or mold on the ceiling. Some homes had decorated and repainted their walls and some walls were left bare. Some homes had heaters and were chilly with them on. Some homes had no heaters and generally the homes were colder inside than outside due to the concrete walls.
One home we visited was the home of a single mother and her son and she took her cushions outside and we sat outside as it was warmer under the sun than inside her home.
My first house visit was a Syrian widow who had adult children scattered around Europe and maybe one in America. She wore all black and her home was one room. We sat in the corner on the ground on cushions and her bed was in the other corner and her one burner was on the other corner. She made us tea and pulled biscuits out from underneath her mattress cushion. She was sad and bitter, talking about her children and how they didn’t talk to her much. Also when I say talk, let me clarify: we would go with a long term worker who spoke fluent Arabic and they would talk and sometimes translate for us and if we had something to share we would speak in English and it would get translated. What stood out to me on that first house visit was how isolated and alone that woman was and how hard it is for the Syrians who are living outside their community.
We visited a man who was missing a leg and possibly a daughter and their home was big but drafty and moldy and dirty. Their children were older but wild and didn’t go to school. He begged for resources for his friend, a lady who picked up trash on the road for income. She didn’t have papers for some reason.
One lady in this family we visited had an empty water gallon with a goldfish swimming in it. I’m not sure how it was alive as it was freezing in her house and the water in the container was colder than room temperature and cloudy and dirty.
We would go to these homes and they didn’t look like much and it was cold and we didn’t speak English but the children would come alive and greet you and hug you and play. And we always prayed for them at the end of each visit and we always shared a Bible story or two. I shared about how my ankle was healed. We prayed for healing. We explained that we came from America to hear their stories and why we celebrate Christmas. And we also experienced hospitality that was truly touching. Some families would spend all day cooking a feast for us and spend hours upon hours preparing and making food.
Distribution visits were crazy. The man who did distribution had two cell phones that would continuously ring, sometimes simultaneously but it was like having background music, that’s how frequently they would ring. Men and women who recognized the truck would talk to us as we drove, either running up to the truck or biking alongside us. We would go to the storage unit and load up mattresses, cushions, pillows, blankets, gas, and heaters and then go house to house to drop off what was needed. There was such a thankfulness and joy in these people, some have described their reaction as Christmas day.
Caroling at the hospital was quite beautiful. I went with a long term worker and their family who sang well and I brought along a violin that a girl from Egypt had lent me (from my last heart of worship post, a violin string had broken on the first violin which was sad but then Phoebe arrived and had a violin that was also missing a string but then she got new strings and let me play it for the next few weeks, thank you Jesus!). And we went from room to room and sang / played a few short songs to the TB patients. Then we played and sang for the founder of the hospital, an adorable old woman who had just recently adopted an orphan Syrian girl that had been found abandoned outside. When they found her they thought it was a cat meowing only to discover it was a baby girl!
We put on a Christmas play for a speech therapy / special needs Syrian class and we started with Christmas songs, me on the violin and Elaine played guitar. It was pretty spectacular to share the story of Jesus for these children and their parents.
Generally we would have full, full days. For example Syrian school started at 7:45 am, registration at 8:45 and English school around there and end at 7pm. House visits would start from late morning into the evening and then we would cook/have team meetings/clean (we were in charge of cleaning the common area and the community center every day) and we wouldn’t really have time to rest until maybe 9 or 10 at night and then be exhausted.
This was my first month with a host and it was hard. We lived in a restrictive culture for women and our first week there, Trump announced the US Embassy move which caused some excitement among the locals and caused our movements to be more restricted. We weren’t allowed to be by ourselves outside at night without a male escort. There was really nothing to do in the city anyways because it was mostly Syrian refugees/residential. Since there were so many other volunteers and so many different areas to serve, we were on our own alot, maybe with other teams and even team meetings at night were hard because people would constantly pop in and out of our meeting area.
I was constantly exhausted and it was hard to be living and abiding in God when we were so physically drained. I have much more respect for long term workers because I could see the relationship they had built over months and even years of interactions that we, as a short term group, couldn’t build in a month’s span.
I got a different perspective on the Israeli/Palestinian perspective from the many Arab and Palestinian believers we interacted with.
I learned to not complain but to embrace the hard work and long days, to support the long termers and to understand the restrictions.
I saw how much a little generosity can go. A simple toy or even a balloon brought so much joy. Simple snacks got devoured by hungry children. A smile would bring a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek from a child.
I learned how important it was to spend time with God even when there is no time or energy.
I realized how much I enjoy playing violin. I would hide in the prayer room on the rooftop often, mostly at night when there was no more work for that day and play. Sometimes it was just playing along worship songs from my phone. But alot of times it was with fellow musicians. I played along with friends from Brazil (on guitar), from Norway (piano), Egypt (drums + vocals), from Jordan (piano + guitar) and with Elaine, my teammate. It was so beautiful to worship God the way I knew and to draw others in and to play music with others, to expose myself to different tunes, melodies and worship anthems. That brought the most life to me. As I’m exposed to different ministries, people groups, of all ages, I think my heart and passion is around worship, prayer and intercession. To find God in the quiet play, in the hidden part.
[the one thing I ask of the Lord – the thing I seek the most – is to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, delighting in the Lord’s perfections and meditating in his temple…my heart has heard you say, “Come and talk with me” and my heart responds, “Lord I am coming”] – Psalm 27
I also went back to listen to some prophetic words spoken over me before the race and was reminded to meditate on Psalm 16:
[ You will show me the way of life. Granting me the joy of your presence and the pleasures of living with you forever]
