There’s a large abandoned building on the outer edge of Silistra. Rows of exposed brick and neglected concrete reveal a larger political narrative. The building was supposed to be a hospital, servicing the city of Silistra and surrounding villages. It was designed and built by the old communist regime. When communism fell in 1989, the building was unfinished. Construction stopped, and the hospital has stood there, empty, for almost twenty-six years.
That’s what the memory of communism looks like in Bulgaria.
Bulgaria is the largest exporter of Sunflowers in the world. Driving across the countryside this time of year you’ll see field after field of the blooming yellow flower. There are beautiful gardens here. My team and I visited the home of an elderly Bulgarian couple yesterday. Tonka and Peta are in their eighties. She served us grape juice made from the grapes they grew in their backyard.
Tonka and Peta grow corn, peas, pumpkins, and rows of other things I’m not quite sure I could even identify. She stopped to pick some fresh parsley for our host in the middle of an impromptu tour. They were roasting homegrown peppers on an outdoor clay oven.
There’s life in Bulgaria, the beauty of the vegetation speaks to it, but there’s also concrete. Towering communist-era apartments offer an explanation as to why a country with so much natural beauty might still feel so cold and dark. Standing here I’m stuck in contradiction between admiring the beauty of a garden and mourning a system that would lead an elderly couple with clear health concerns and issues of mobility to work the land beyond the limitations of their age.
Bulgaria needs hope. In the last twenty years, two million people have left the country. That’s more than a fifth of the total population. How do you believe in a country that doesn’t always know how to believe in itself?
In Silistra, Bulgaria, a minor city on the coast of the Danube River and just across the border from Romania, there’s a small church that meets in celebration every Sunday. The building itself, originally an old Jewish synagogue, is both well loved and in need of repair. Plaster is missing from the walls and the men’s bathroom is nothing more than a hole in the ground that probably wouldn’t fly in any American church I’ve ever visited. There’s no cleaning staff, instead members volunteer to vacuum the carpets and mop the floors every Saturday.
In service, they sing worship songs any English-speaker might recognize, translated into the Bulgarian tongue. The people are full of joy. Pastor Emil admits life in outside of Bulgaria might be easier, might seem more appealing, but he believes in his country and, more importantly, he believes in the Gospel. There is hope in Jesus Christ, so there is, and will always be, hope for Bulgaria.
There is life in Bulgaria, from the six foot grapes vines and the peach tree growing just behind me to the enthusiastic attendee of a small Bulgarian church who traveled 40 km that morning without a car just to make the service.
Pray for Bulgaria. Pray that Pastor Emil and his church might be able to bring hope and healing to their community. Pray that Roger and Gail Dine, Australian missionaries living in Kalipetrovo, a village just outside of Silistra, might be able to reach the Bulgarian people and the local gypsy communities who need more relief than we even know how to measure.
There is hope for Bulgaria.
I want to thank everyone who has supported me on this journey and I am so excited to share everything I’m seeing and experiencing with all of you back home!
At this point, I still have more than 5,000 dollars left to fundraise. If you feel inclined to provide any kind of financial support, I would be incredibly grateful and your donation would help ensure I stay on the field for the full eleven months. God bless!
