Confession time. I just might love Greece a little bit more than the previous countries, although they each have my heart in different ways. Part of my love for Greece is the cobblestone streets, the astounding Mediterranean ocean views, the little quaint houses sitting on hills, the small town family feel, and the picturesque walks and hikes. Another reason is because of the community here. On the northern part of the island in a town called Molyvos, there is a whole different unique community. We work under a big organization called Euro Relief, which is the big umbrella for a number of organizations including YWAM, Samaritan’s Purse, Acts of Mercy, Operation Mobilization, Adventures in Missions. We all come from different cultural backgrounds, but it does not matter. We are all united with one purpose: to love God and love others. Our camp is run by so many Jesus believers, and other camps on the island take notice something is different about this camp. Community is the reason I am loving Greece.
You can probably guess the last piece that makes up my love for this country. Yes, the refugees. Never, ever did I think I would step into a refugee camp this year, let alone love it. Not once did it cross my mind that refugees need help too, and certainly never in my wildest dreams did it occur to me that God might cultivate in me a heart for refugees.
I worked an overnight shift at Moria, an hour away from our camp in Molyvos. All the refugees on the island come through this camp for registration. The buses arrives full of wet, cold, tired, physically and emotionally drained people. If they are wet, we send them to the clothing distribution tent. If they are not wet, we send them directly to the food tent to get tea and some hot food. Tents cover the camp ground, but there are not enough for everyone. Mothers with crying children do not even need to say they are exhausted. They wear exhaustion on their face. Men huddled around burning cardboard do not need to tell us they are cold; their shivering bodies give that away.
Maybe this will help you understand my heart for these beautifully and wonderfully made people: I walk inside the food tent to grab a spoon. As I am walking out the tent there stood a man. I saw him for all of maybe three seconds. Three seconds I will never forget. I smiled at him, half expecting him to smile back or look at me with some form of acknowledgement. He did look at me, but with a look on his face I would never wish upon anyone. I looked straight into eyes of death. I’ve never in my life seen such despair in human eyes. These eyes held the pain of a thousand deaths, as if he himself witnessed the execution of everyone close to him. I do not know this man or his story, but I will never forget those eyes. They pierced directly into my soul.
Eyes are so powerful. We often hear and say the phrase, “Make eye contact.” We use it for sports, public speaking, sending signals, showing affection, listening. Eyes also reflect what is truly taking place on the inside. When the man looked at me with those hurt and hopeless eyes, I felt his pain. His pain became my pain with one look. Unlike these refugees, I am so full of peace and hope. I believe God has given me my eyes for a reason. I firmly believe one of those reasons is to speak eyes of hope to the refugees. Maybe, just maybe, after one look into eyes of hope, they will feel what I feel and taste the goodness of the Lord.
