I’ll be completely honest. When I heard we would be working with a drug rehabilitation program for the month, I did not expect the atmosphere, amount of men, or the comfort of the reality.
Atmosphere: When we arrived, we discovered our program was within a church – not any kind of rehabilitation building. We slept on seven short, twin beds crammed in what I believe was used as a Children’s Church room. The church was always open – starting early and ending quite late meaning anyone could stop in. While many of us would think, “Of course, it’s a church. They usually are open for people to come by and talk with the pastor and/or to pray,” the situation was quite different. Our visitors stubbled in quite high and strung out on drugs to talk to men who had been delivered by God from such a life. Here’s just one story to shed a little light on what I mean:
My team of 8 plus a squad leader were having a time of feedback where we all gather together in order to call out things to encourage one another higher in our walk as a son or daughter of the King, and a man named Matolli walked through the door. He introduced himself with horribly slurred words and repeatedly shared how he just wanted a friend. Truth is, he just needed God and some of His love. Matolli was a man who ended up coming by several times before we had to leave at the end of the month. He was usually high to one extent or another.
One night, it was about 10pm, and a team mate and I sat outside with him trying to help him see and believe God loved him. The conversation was heart-breaking, yet we saw a breakthrough of sorts by the end of the night. Ever since we left the church, he’s been no where to be seen.
Amount of men: While I knew from our set-up sheet that the program was run by a man from the church, I had no inkling of what the month would actually hold. To say that my team and I spent 90% of our time with men who were delivered drug addicts or still struggling through drugs would be a fair percentage. And most of these men where older – 30’s to 40’s. Besides the “young adult” men’s group we hosted on Tuesday nights, most of our interactions were with older men. This may sound sketchy, but funny as it sounds, the statistics didn’t even register with me until about half way through the month. The men we came in contact with never crossed or even came close to crossing boundary lines with the girls. And of course the guys on the team loved the extra testosterone around. Hahaha. All in all, as crazy as it sounds, a month encompassed by drug addicted men – delivered or struggling – changed the way I look at people with these types of strongholds. People with these sorts of challenges and issues tended to scare me back in the USA. Why? Now, I think my judgement and fear purely stemmed from ignorance. Life on drugs is no joke. And trying to change, especially in a foreign culture where it’s culturally accepted and in some way expected, is beyond difficult. These delivered drug addicts had testimonies you wouldn’t believe. They brought tears to my eyes more than once! Men who cry as they tell you their story – their story of God’s deliverance and grace from such an enticing evil was moving beyond what my heart could fully comprehend.
Comfort of Reality: Like I mentioned, it wasn’t until about half way through the month until realizing the statistics of men to women ratio. And living in a church was awesome, but lacked much in the area of privacy. In the midst of it all, the comfort of who we were working with and where we called home for the month set in quite quickly. Life on the race can be trying at times – to say the very least – but the month we spent in Macedonia was comfortable. A couple of those men will be forever remembered. My time spent with so many drug addicts will allow me to find comfort in lending a hand and showing empathy to others like them once returning home. I never could’ve imagined a month so against my American culture of rejecting those whose struggle with drugs and yet being so comfortable. The reality of it became enjoyable even. We shared tears and struggles, but we also shared so many small breakthroughs, ear-to-ear smiles, and ab-wrenching laughs!
Thank you Macedonia for revealing a side of Jesus’s love to me that I never had considered before. One that loves even the broken whom everyone else condemns.
