“Attention Y squad. We have an announcement. We have received a call from the home office, and they say that our help is more needed elsewhere, so pack your bags. We are going to Greece!” The roof. Came off. The house. Jumping, shouting, hugging, and chest bumping, we showed our joy for the new country. Another country change of many, and this time Greece! This was gonna be good. So that was how it all started. That simple announcement changed everything. So we packed our bags, and like veteran roadies, hightailed it out of the little farm we had been working on in Albania.
After 35 hours of traveling, we finally made it to the little island of Lesvos. Not wasting any time, our ministry host set us to work only hours after arriving. So, bracing ourselves to see the worst of the worst, we were driven up through the winding mountains of Lesvos, to our very first shift at the refugee camp. That first night was the most miserable night of our entire time there. It rained and rained and rained, hard. It rained so hard that mid-way through the shift the tent all the refugees were under threatened to flood. Fortunately, we were able to dig a last minute ditch and save it.
The refugees would come up to us from the beach, soaking wet and borderline hypothermic. We gave them food, a warm drink, and dry clothes. Later that night, we got word that we had a family that had lost their little boy at sea. The mother had panicked, looked away for a second, and then he was gone, simply disappeared from the boat. To my knowledge, they never found him. We were then told this was a daily occurrence, and that if it all became too much for us, we were allowed to take a moment and cry if we needed to. Fortunately, we never saw anything grisly. Things only improved after that night.
As time went on, the camp was expanded and improved upon, until it was three times the camp it had been when we had gotten there. The rain finally went away, and many nights proved to be good sailing weather for the refugees. It wasn’t the fair weather nights that proved to be the best though, it was the bad ones, where the wind was strong, and the waves were choppy. It was nights like these that caused us not to see a single refugee, which is highly unusual. I say these nights were the best because if no refugees were showing, then none were crossing the sea, and if none were crossing the sea, then none were dying, and I will take that any day. These nights also provided us with great opportunities to get to know the other volunteers better.
Representing countries from all over Europe, working with these people was, in my mind, the perfect picture of the United Nations. We were all working together in harmony for a common cause, and the best cause for that matter. There was no bickering or arguing, and we all grew to love each other. It didn’t take long for us to become a big family. I absolutely loved the community. There was Amyr, Alex, Father Krishtoferos, Thomas and Amina, Yanni, Ernesto, Elton, Dimitris, Pavlos, Emmanuel, Gerard, Alexandra, Simone, and Hein, to name a few. It was these people I grew to love the most, however, I also connected with many refugees.
On certain nights, there would be a lull in activity as many settled in, or as we waited in-between boats. I would often take advantage of these moments to get to know some of the refugees and hear their story. Every story broke my heart. I encountered refugees fleeing from every known terror group. One had lost a brother to a car bomb, and was on the hit list himself. Others were leaving their wives and children, knowing they would not see them for a minimum of five years. However, out of these dark and somber moments, bright moments would shine through as well.
In one instance, which I did not witness, an entire family left Islam to start a new life with Jesus. Haha, they were so excited. Another man I talked to began telling me about his faith in Jesus. It wasn’t until later in the conversation that I realized I was the first person he had ever openly confessed his faith to. My mind was blown. He was overjoyed to find that very nearly the entire camp was run by Christians. The contrast between our shore and Turkey’s grew even darker in my mind. There were also smaller moments. There were many nights when I would sit with them and have meaningful conversation, and they were just happy to have a friend.
Other nights, we played soccer, shouting at each other in our own languages. One night we even had a dance party, showing each other different dances we knew. I often made it a point to grab their Facebook info so I could keep in touch with them. Some of them made it where they were going, others are still waiting to get in last I checked. The one thing that I learned most from these people, however, was selflessness.
Selflessness was the one overwhelming attribute that these people exuded. They put me to shame. On more than one occasion, I would be talking with a refugee, when they would randomly offer me cookies or fruit from their humble food stash. I would try to refuse, but they would not hear it, saying, “No! No! I have plenty!” in their thick accents. Other times, they would offer us gifts. My teammate was given prayer beads and an unexpected spray of cologne. I myself complimented a man on his turban, after which he proceeded to take it off his head and wrap it on mine for me. My heart was a puddle. Still other times, they would go around, unasked, and help us clean up the camp. It was the only way they felt they could repay the debt they felt they owed us, so we would let them. Out of all these moments, however, the most impacting moment happened at the beach.
We were not sure that we would get to, but after we were asked to stay longer than the usual month, we were finally asked if we would be willing to work a beach shift. Basically, all you do on a beach shift is watch for boats, then guide them in when they do come, and tend to any of their immediate needs. So there we sat, binoculars in hand, scanning the coastline of Turkey for boats. Finally, one came in. Taking about 40 minutes to cross, the little rubber raft, highlighted by orange lifejackets, coasted to within shouting distance. The people, filled with both joy and terror, began shouting and singing. They began standing up, attempting to jump in the water and swim to shore in their excitement. We jumped in the water, telling them to sit down and be patient as we did so. We lined the back of the boat up with the shore, and helped them unboard. One man was so happy that he leaned out of the boat and kissed me on the cheek.
Later, after everyone was on shore, many thanked us for our help as we passed out water, clothes, and food. I then began talking with a younger guy about my age. I had heard the stories of mistreatment and abuse the refugees sometimes suffer at the hands of the people smuggling them across, and said, “Man, what do those smugglers do to you guys?” He proceeded to roll up his sleeve, and showed me red welts all up and down his forearm. Once again, my heart crumbled. Standing in the midst of them all, I would’ve balled like a baby had I let myself. The sorrow that I felt for them, mixed with the joy I felt for them having escaped it all safely, was overwhelming. Never before had I felt so abundantly fulfilled in my life, and never before had I felt so much like the hands and feet of Jesus. Sometimes, I just went up to them and hugged them. That’s all I could do for them once their needs were taken care of. So I showed them love as best I could. No other boats came in that day, but that was okay. That one boat was all I needed. I had gotten what I came for, and done what I came to do.
Out of all my time in Greece, God had a handful of lessons that were not wasted on me. The first was that people are all that really matter. Everything else passes away, materials, situations, frustrations, but a person’s soul is eternal, and whatever is eternal, that is all that matters. Of course, this is common knowledge to most of us, but it can be easily forgotten in daily life. Most of the volunteers at the camp knew Jesus, but there were a few who didn’t. Inadvertently, it was these people I grew to love the most. Eventually, I realized that I had never had this close of a relationship with an unbeliever. As a result, the battle for the unsaved has become much more personal to me. So, whenever I hear the word, “unsaved” it is these dear peoples’ faces that come to mind. I will always remember this lesson.
The second lesson is that God will still use you, even if there’s only one second left in the game. When we were in Athens, waiting to board a train for the first leg in a long journey to Africa, a man stumbled into our gateway. He was disheveled with a defeated, desperate look about him, carrying a plastic bag, and stammering in horribly broken English. “Money! No…noo druugs. Streets…two days. Teeket. Pleeeeease.” Wary at first, as we are used to beggars constantly approaching us for money, we were able to piece together that he had been in the streets for two days, and that he was asking for money for a train ticket. His story seemed legitimate, and he seemed desperate enough. So we all agreed to pitch in and buy a ticket for him. Sending people with him to keep him honest, we bought the ticket. The man broke down, weeping and sobbing, he proceeded to kiss all of us and tell us he loved us over and over. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had helped Jesus buy a train ticket. Never again will I make the mistake of thinking God is done using me because there’s no more time.
The third lesson is more of a calling than a lesson learned. Via one of my squad leaders, and numerous other things, God has reaffirmed my calling to Hollywood. He has rekindled my passion for the people there, as well as my passion for performing. I am glad he has done this for me, and to be honest, a bit mystified that he has told me this early. I am super stoked to get back in the game again, this time with a higher purpose and God at my back. It feels great to know what my calling is with such certainty.
All this has made Greece both my favorite and most memorable month thus far. I cannot wait to see what the rest of the race has in store for me. It has been a little over a month since we left Greece. Since then we have roughed it in the Kalahari Desert, rebuilding the roof of a church in the southern tip of Botswana, helped a church in White River, South Africa, had debrief in Pretoria and had team changes, and are now currently aiding a couple small churches in Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe. We have already had many adventures, and are due for many more. I cannot wait to see what else God has for me, and who he will make me to be by the end of this. I am abundantly fulfilled.
Photo Credit: Maikel Samuels
