Dear friends and family --
I'm home!! Thanks to all who so faithfully read my long, rambling blogs and prayed for me! My family is having our annual "reunion?" this week -- where all the men go on a long camping/fishing/mountaineering trip in the Montana wildlands, and all of us girls stay home and soak up the sun.
I'm sitting in the living room right now with my little 9 month old niece Estella and my amazing youngest sister Rachel (now already 19!!) - and I'm amazed that only a week ago I was still in the brothels of Athens.
I think it's a lot to process through . . . and I crave God's direction in the weeks and months ahead as I navigate His call. But I find myself growing more confident in God's Sovereignty in my life . . . as I've seen His faithfulness so much through the bumps and turns of my life.
You know, it's exactly a year (tomorrow) since my car accident on the way out to Montana with my friend Ryan. His neck is doing much better now . . . and, though those close to me know that it has left an indellible mark on my life, I rejoice in all that the Lord has done and taught me since that time.
It's been a year of victories and unexpected sorrows for me - I've finished my first year of teaching, conquered 3/4 of a full-time grad program, walked through the deaths of a close mentor and my grandpa, combatted some pretty major fears and really pursued the healing of Jesus . . . and so many other things.
And I think as I look back, I would say it's been a year when my faith in the coming of Jesus' Kingdom has grown a great deal - and my capacity to worship Him, to love His people, and to hate injustice has also grown . . .
I've decided that I will continue posting rather than closing this down, because my dreams continue on from this point . . . and the deeper relationships with women involved in prostitution that I hold on to really are here.
Last Monday night, I laughed with a Nigerian woman and convinced her to use the side of a telephone booth as an African drum as I danced in the street - and one of the other girls said, "She can dance like an African!" I had a difficult conversation with a woman who laughed with me about Nigeria - and started to cry as she spoke of being locked up during the day, having her phone calls tightly monitored, feeling like there was no way out.
But when I tell her, "You're not alone; we can help you . . ." Those words don't seem trite. I know it's true. My hope has expanded a thousand fold - and though trafficking grows by the day, God's Kingdom grows nearer by the hour.
I will spend my life building that Kingdom - and hoping when it seems ludicrous that there is hope.
One of my girls from Seattle called me and left a message in the middle of the night a few days ago. She's been on the streets since she was 7. She called to say she's ready to leave her man. She'll do what it takes . . .
I've walked with these women long enough to know that that conversation may mean 1 of a thousand things . . . and she may be in love with him again by today. But there are gems of hope that sustain me in this work . . . and it's the truth that Jesus has never given up on me EVEN TO THIS DAY that helps me to realize that there is no faltering in HIS HOPE.
I was talking to some friends the other night . . . it seems no matter which circles I run in now, someone starts to ask me about women involved in prostitution. I've laughingly mentioned that I often feel like I have a sign around my neck that says, "I work with women involved in prostitution . . ." and it either stops conversations short or becomes the only thing that people wnat to talk about. That's fine - advocacy is important.
I recently had a man confess? to me that he had actually been serviced by several women involved in prostitution in Europe. He admitted it with shame - and said, "You know, until I had this conversation with you tonight, I've felt guilty about it before - but I've never really understood their situations. I've never understood the way that I perpetuated that cycle. I wish I could change that now. And I also never understood how deep grace runs."
I'll be honest, it was an unnerving conversation. But I was thankful for it . . . another brick in the wall. Another reason I find myself unable to turn away . . .
What I meant to say before - I was talking to some friends the other night who asked me if I saw this as an issue I would be working with long into my future - something that I would really give my life to.
I find it funny - because I bumped into this ministry literally on ACCIDENT at New Horizons - and even before starting my grad program, I still didn't see it as something that would be a part of me forever. But little by little, the faces and the names and the deep friendships have grown -- little by little, their stories have dried up my throat and left my insides quaking; the research has infested my mind with first despair and then rage and then ideas . . . my trip to Athens helped me to see more pieces fitting together and the mighty role of Jesus leading all of this . . .
And now I'm left with their stories and their names crying out inside of me. How can I ever turn back? Sometimes I wish I could teach Junior High and live comfortably in Seattle - the city I love so much - for the rest of my life. But inside of me, there's this passion that burns - and this inherent knowledge, that if I choose to give myself to this work, Jesus can use me to build His Kingdom in their lives . . .
I believe in the Lordship of Jesus. I believe that His deliverance is sure. I believe that His redemption can cover the whole earth, as the waters cover the seas . . . and I will give myself to that Kingdom, to that Lord - and to His little girls, locked behind iron bars in a world that would rape them.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Thessaloniki
It's been a week since I've posted - much to catch up on . . .
My weekend in Sofia was incredible, I'm in Thessaloniki this weekend with another organization that works with trafficking called A21. Look it up online! And had another very meaningful week in Athens in between.
More details to come . . .
My weekend in Sofia was incredible, I'm in Thessaloniki this weekend with another organization that works with trafficking called A21. Look it up online! And had another very meaningful week in Athens in between.
More details to come . . .
Saturday, July 11, 2009
When a Weekend Turns into a Lifetime . . .
So, I arrived in Sofia, Bulgaria on Friday afternoon - a bit more than 24 hours ago. It's nothing like what I expected. What did I expect?! I'm not sure - but it wasn't this.
Something inside of me broke wide open. This is a city full of hope.
It's a city with new life. The communist regime fell in 1989, leaving this little nation in ruins - and a generation of people with nothing to hold on to but obstinate despair. Now, 20 years have passed - and a generation of babies have grown up in a world of hope. They're entering the job force, and the nation is transforming . . .
I'm here visiting my friend Tausha - who directs an American Englsih School here in Sofia in partnership with an elderly American couple who founded it in 1992. She and I drove down the city streets, and I could see so easily the difference between building built during the time of Communism and those built after its fall - there are businesses sprouting up all over, new housing communities, and light in the eyes of the people. We went downtown to take pictures of old beautiful churches and the fantastic infrastructure - and saw old men playing chess next to a fountain in a community park.
This nation, like many, has been hit by the economic crises of this past year - but there's still hope pulsing in the city. I met a young Bulgarian woman for coffee today, and she expressed the tension between the generations - as the old cling to their cultural roots and the young reach for something new. How do you hold on to the Lexus and the olive tree, as Friedman would put it? It seems a particularly poignant argument here - in a developing nation that just entered the European Union and is bursting with opportunity and growth.
Late last night, we drove the track . . . I saw women working in prostitution on a street so similar to Pac Hwy in Seattle (where our girls sometimes walk) . . . except there were no street lights. So dangerous. And there is no one here to stand with the women - stand for the women.
I went to lunch today with my friend Tausha and her friend Mark - a man who started the Cedar Foundation and is just now dreaming and organizing to launch some new projects in about a year - one part, working with women involved in prostitution. Crazily, on Thursday night I went on outreach in Athens with a woman whose directing an organization that just started in Thessaloniki last fall working with women involved in prostitution called A21. It's connected with and funded through Hillsongs in Australia - which is also what's beginning here in Sofia this coming year in partnership with the Cedar Foundation.
All that to say - our conversations have been seeded with destiny. Whereas in Athens, I felt overwhelmed and excited but fearful, there's a strange peace that has somehow washed over me here . . .
And I've begun to wonder. More than begun. Lord Jesus, are You in this? Will You send me here? I'm willing . . .
There are so many details I don't have time to share now, but I feel dizzy with vision for this place. I'm excited to look back on this weekend in the future . . . to see what happens with these conversations and these first meetings . . .
Perhaps this will be a weekend that turns into a lifetime . . .
Something inside of me broke wide open. This is a city full of hope.
It's a city with new life. The communist regime fell in 1989, leaving this little nation in ruins - and a generation of people with nothing to hold on to but obstinate despair. Now, 20 years have passed - and a generation of babies have grown up in a world of hope. They're entering the job force, and the nation is transforming . . .
I'm here visiting my friend Tausha - who directs an American Englsih School here in Sofia in partnership with an elderly American couple who founded it in 1992. She and I drove down the city streets, and I could see so easily the difference between building built during the time of Communism and those built after its fall - there are businesses sprouting up all over, new housing communities, and light in the eyes of the people. We went downtown to take pictures of old beautiful churches and the fantastic infrastructure - and saw old men playing chess next to a fountain in a community park.
This nation, like many, has been hit by the economic crises of this past year - but there's still hope pulsing in the city. I met a young Bulgarian woman for coffee today, and she expressed the tension between the generations - as the old cling to their cultural roots and the young reach for something new. How do you hold on to the Lexus and the olive tree, as Friedman would put it? It seems a particularly poignant argument here - in a developing nation that just entered the European Union and is bursting with opportunity and growth.
Late last night, we drove the track . . . I saw women working in prostitution on a street so similar to Pac Hwy in Seattle (where our girls sometimes walk) . . . except there were no street lights. So dangerous. And there is no one here to stand with the women - stand for the women.
I went to lunch today with my friend Tausha and her friend Mark - a man who started the Cedar Foundation and is just now dreaming and organizing to launch some new projects in about a year - one part, working with women involved in prostitution. Crazily, on Thursday night I went on outreach in Athens with a woman whose directing an organization that just started in Thessaloniki last fall working with women involved in prostitution called A21. It's connected with and funded through Hillsongs in Australia - which is also what's beginning here in Sofia this coming year in partnership with the Cedar Foundation.
All that to say - our conversations have been seeded with destiny. Whereas in Athens, I felt overwhelmed and excited but fearful, there's a strange peace that has somehow washed over me here . . .
And I've begun to wonder. More than begun. Lord Jesus, are You in this? Will You send me here? I'm willing . . .
There are so many details I don't have time to share now, but I feel dizzy with vision for this place. I'm excited to look back on this weekend in the future . . . to see what happens with these conversations and these first meetings . . .
Perhaps this will be a weekend that turns into a lifetime . . .
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Faith through Fire
Tonight, I feel so thankful for this space to write . . .
It's 2:30 am in Athens - but the city's still alive, because it's much too hot to sleep. I've been swathed all day in a sheen of sweat - I took cold shower in the afternoon heat, got out and stood in front of the fan in my bedroom, and five minutes later I was wet with sweat once again. It's hard to stay hydrated . . .
But the heat is not what keeps me from sleep tonight. . .
I got home from outreach about 5 minutes ago. I haven't written yet about the brothels this week -- or about much of what's transpired over the last few days. Tonight, I walked with the Nigerian women again. My heart feels really raw.
I decided tonight to be really intentional about talking to the girls about violence, personal rights, and self-respect. It's a strategy that I've found really useful in Seattle, and I wasn't sure how it would go down here - but it worked well. I find two things to be most effective in my conversations (both at home and here): 1) Laughter, 2) Specific acknowledgment that violence is wrong and no one deserves it or has to remain in violent situations.
Many of the girls are callous to the difference between safety and harm. Their norms have been perverted - you know, like when we're told that people who panic under-water drowned because they can't figure out which way is up toward the surface. It's the same with these girls - they don't know up from down anymore; somehow, violence becomes ok in their lives.
It's powerful to see the faces of certain women when they hear that violence is wrong. That it is their right as a person to live in safety, without fear of violence or harm. That if they are facing these situations, they are not alone - that there is help. And you know, I don't think of that as a political right - I think that the Lord ordained certain rights for His people that go far deeper than politics. And I believe also that He stands up for the rights of the oppressed, because that's what He's told us in His Word. There is no room for opinions in that - and I'm thankful I don't have to doubt it.
Tonight I had several painful conversations - but one in particular stood out to me - with two young girls who called themselves Sonya and IT. Most of the girls here claim to be happy with their lives here in Athens - but these two were honest tonight. They said, "You know, we hate the streets. All of us. We hate this f***ing life - don't you see? See us running from the cops, being chased all the time, trying to get so much money . . . We want out. You say God delivers, but we need Him to give us money if He is going to deliver us."
I spoke with them about the reality of God's deliverance - that He is present, and that He is able to help. We talked about finding other work - about different positions available to them. I asked them to come into the Nea Zoi office, so I could help them phone around and get job interviews. The difficulty is, these girls don't have residency permits in Athens - so the only jobs they can get are jobs like nannying, house-cleaning, caring for an elderly person - something that is paid individually out of pocket. For them to get residency permits, they have to go to court and go through the entire mess of testifying against their trafficker - which is long, difficulty, and very scary.
As we talked, they repeated again and again, "You don't understand. You have money. We have no money. Do you think if we really had a choice we would be out on these streets? No person would come here by streets - this is not life. We have families at home (in Nigeria) with no money - we have to make real money to send home. We have to help our families at home. We can't go to one of those jobs . . . tell me how much we could make there? Enough to feed our families?"
I feel very broken over their words. It made me think of Doestovsky's Crime and Punishment. Interestingly enough, my favorite character in all of literature is in that book - and her name is Sonia also. She works as a prostitute - and she is a Christ figure in the novel. She sells her body not because she wants to make money, but because her father is an alcoholic who doesn't work, and her little brother and sister are starving. It's the only job she can find - and she hates it. But she speaks of her faith - of the power of Jesus' redemption - and witnesses to the protagonist of the novel whose struggling with blood-guilt from murdering his land-lord.
The weight of poverty feels very heavy sometimes. The stench of desperation feels suffocating. I feel angry about injustice - angry about the self-inflicted blindness that perpetuates it. Angry at the state of the world - at darkness and sin.
I was walking tonight with a young woman interning at Nea Zoi who has been here for about 6 months. She's hurting a lot. And what's worse, she has felt very alone in her pain. She asked me if I've found it difficult to reconcile my faith with the darkness. She confessed that she's struggling a lot with her faith right now. She doesn't know where to go. She asked for help . . . I think that's so honorable.
Because the truth is, I struggle with my faith. In fact, I really think that anyone who touches the darkness struggles with their faith - and that's what authenticates it as faith. I think there are people of faith who are content to live lives separated from the darkness enough that they can be comfortable with God's Word and His promises - but I sometimes wonder if their houses are built on the sand. I don't think everyone is called to work with women in prostitution - but I think Jesus models for us that we are meant to live out our faith in the midst of severe darkness. I think we are meant to seek out people living in darkness - so that we can become to them the light of Christ.
But as we do that, I think that the journey of faith becomes very difficult and very painful. It hurts to look at the world as it is - it's hard to trust God's promises when the Bible is so far from the reality that we live in. And I think there are seasons when God's promises taste like cardboard in our mouths - because poverty and despair don't seem to find answers in His promises of provision and hope. And I praise the Lord that the darkness is the FIRE that refines our faith like GOLD. That He teaches us to believe when it seems most impossible . . . and that He really does come through.
He builds a vision of His Kingdom in our hearts - and the faith that He is strong enough to build it on earth in reality. A Kingdom that is established on righteousness and justice - a Kingdom where HOPE and LOVE prevail, and suffering and sorrow, violence and racism ARE DEFEATED. Can you even imagine? My heart is aching for it - because of how far away it feels. And the Holy Spirit really does empower us with the faith to believe that Jesus is strong and that He's coming . . . that He hasn't forgotten us. That His answers aren't trite and hyper-spiritual . . . He provides answers for the suffering that we can stand on.
But we have to fight for that faith. Fight for it in prayer and in His presence - fight for it in community. He gave us the church because we cannot CANNOT make it on our own . . . the darkness is too big. But when we come together, we build eachother up . . . we remind eachother that He's coming. That He's strong. That He's alive and true and real. . . That He is mighty to deliver. MIGHTY to DELIVER.
I've learned not to be afraid anymore when I struggle in my faith. And I'm definitely not afraid when I see others struggle. On the contrary, when people admit that they struggle to believe, I bless the Lord - because when we can say that out loud, I am confident that He's always faithful to meet us where our faith falls short. His GRACE abounds, and He grows faith in us that's stronger than fire. In the end, the ones who struggle seem to also be the ones who prevail - the ones who do believe - the ones who don't become callous by trite answers, a sandy faith.
All that to say, I don't doubt that Jesus holds real answers for IT and Sonia. I don't know what those answers are - but I'm not afraid to pray for them. I'm not afraid to tell them that He can meet all their needs - and to really believe that that's the truth . . . seriously. Not just because I want to evangelize . . . but because I am willing to walk the distance with them and see Him provide for every one of their needs. He is strong and faithful. I am confident of this - I will see the goodness of God in the land of the living.
I've been reading of Daniel's friends over and over again during my time here . . . what were they thinking, telling the King to throw them into that fire? "But even if our God doesn't save us from the flames, still He is worthy . . . "
Why is He worthy? Is He still good if they burn to death? Is He?
I've never known Him to fail in His perfect redemption. Never.
Can I just mention, too . . . I talked to my mom on the phone yesterday, and, as often happens, she brought something to light in my life. I bumped into serving women involved in prostitution nearly on accident - quite literally. Somehow, it's become so intimately a part of my life that I can't even imagine turning away from it. Now that I've been exposed to this injustice, turning my back would be like murder . . . I will fight for them; I will fight against this - because it stands in severe opposition to the Gospel that I believe. Even when my faith is shaky . . .
It's 2:30 am in Athens - but the city's still alive, because it's much too hot to sleep. I've been swathed all day in a sheen of sweat - I took cold shower in the afternoon heat, got out and stood in front of the fan in my bedroom, and five minutes later I was wet with sweat once again. It's hard to stay hydrated . . .
But the heat is not what keeps me from sleep tonight. . .
I got home from outreach about 5 minutes ago. I haven't written yet about the brothels this week -- or about much of what's transpired over the last few days. Tonight, I walked with the Nigerian women again. My heart feels really raw.
I decided tonight to be really intentional about talking to the girls about violence, personal rights, and self-respect. It's a strategy that I've found really useful in Seattle, and I wasn't sure how it would go down here - but it worked well. I find two things to be most effective in my conversations (both at home and here): 1) Laughter, 2) Specific acknowledgment that violence is wrong and no one deserves it or has to remain in violent situations.
Many of the girls are callous to the difference between safety and harm. Their norms have been perverted - you know, like when we're told that people who panic under-water drowned because they can't figure out which way is up toward the surface. It's the same with these girls - they don't know up from down anymore; somehow, violence becomes ok in their lives.
It's powerful to see the faces of certain women when they hear that violence is wrong. That it is their right as a person to live in safety, without fear of violence or harm. That if they are facing these situations, they are not alone - that there is help. And you know, I don't think of that as a political right - I think that the Lord ordained certain rights for His people that go far deeper than politics. And I believe also that He stands up for the rights of the oppressed, because that's what He's told us in His Word. There is no room for opinions in that - and I'm thankful I don't have to doubt it.
Tonight I had several painful conversations - but one in particular stood out to me - with two young girls who called themselves Sonya and IT. Most of the girls here claim to be happy with their lives here in Athens - but these two were honest tonight. They said, "You know, we hate the streets. All of us. We hate this f***ing life - don't you see? See us running from the cops, being chased all the time, trying to get so much money . . . We want out. You say God delivers, but we need Him to give us money if He is going to deliver us."
I spoke with them about the reality of God's deliverance - that He is present, and that He is able to help. We talked about finding other work - about different positions available to them. I asked them to come into the Nea Zoi office, so I could help them phone around and get job interviews. The difficulty is, these girls don't have residency permits in Athens - so the only jobs they can get are jobs like nannying, house-cleaning, caring for an elderly person - something that is paid individually out of pocket. For them to get residency permits, they have to go to court and go through the entire mess of testifying against their trafficker - which is long, difficulty, and very scary.
As we talked, they repeated again and again, "You don't understand. You have money. We have no money. Do you think if we really had a choice we would be out on these streets? No person would come here by streets - this is not life. We have families at home (in Nigeria) with no money - we have to make real money to send home. We have to help our families at home. We can't go to one of those jobs . . . tell me how much we could make there? Enough to feed our families?"
I feel very broken over their words. It made me think of Doestovsky's Crime and Punishment. Interestingly enough, my favorite character in all of literature is in that book - and her name is Sonia also. She works as a prostitute - and she is a Christ figure in the novel. She sells her body not because she wants to make money, but because her father is an alcoholic who doesn't work, and her little brother and sister are starving. It's the only job she can find - and she hates it. But she speaks of her faith - of the power of Jesus' redemption - and witnesses to the protagonist of the novel whose struggling with blood-guilt from murdering his land-lord.
The weight of poverty feels very heavy sometimes. The stench of desperation feels suffocating. I feel angry about injustice - angry about the self-inflicted blindness that perpetuates it. Angry at the state of the world - at darkness and sin.
I was walking tonight with a young woman interning at Nea Zoi who has been here for about 6 months. She's hurting a lot. And what's worse, she has felt very alone in her pain. She asked me if I've found it difficult to reconcile my faith with the darkness. She confessed that she's struggling a lot with her faith right now. She doesn't know where to go. She asked for help . . . I think that's so honorable.
Because the truth is, I struggle with my faith. In fact, I really think that anyone who touches the darkness struggles with their faith - and that's what authenticates it as faith. I think there are people of faith who are content to live lives separated from the darkness enough that they can be comfortable with God's Word and His promises - but I sometimes wonder if their houses are built on the sand. I don't think everyone is called to work with women in prostitution - but I think Jesus models for us that we are meant to live out our faith in the midst of severe darkness. I think we are meant to seek out people living in darkness - so that we can become to them the light of Christ.
But as we do that, I think that the journey of faith becomes very difficult and very painful. It hurts to look at the world as it is - it's hard to trust God's promises when the Bible is so far from the reality that we live in. And I think there are seasons when God's promises taste like cardboard in our mouths - because poverty and despair don't seem to find answers in His promises of provision and hope. And I praise the Lord that the darkness is the FIRE that refines our faith like GOLD. That He teaches us to believe when it seems most impossible . . . and that He really does come through.
He builds a vision of His Kingdom in our hearts - and the faith that He is strong enough to build it on earth in reality. A Kingdom that is established on righteousness and justice - a Kingdom where HOPE and LOVE prevail, and suffering and sorrow, violence and racism ARE DEFEATED. Can you even imagine? My heart is aching for it - because of how far away it feels. And the Holy Spirit really does empower us with the faith to believe that Jesus is strong and that He's coming . . . that He hasn't forgotten us. That His answers aren't trite and hyper-spiritual . . . He provides answers for the suffering that we can stand on.
But we have to fight for that faith. Fight for it in prayer and in His presence - fight for it in community. He gave us the church because we cannot CANNOT make it on our own . . . the darkness is too big. But when we come together, we build eachother up . . . we remind eachother that He's coming. That He's strong. That He's alive and true and real. . . That He is mighty to deliver. MIGHTY to DELIVER.
I've learned not to be afraid anymore when I struggle in my faith. And I'm definitely not afraid when I see others struggle. On the contrary, when people admit that they struggle to believe, I bless the Lord - because when we can say that out loud, I am confident that He's always faithful to meet us where our faith falls short. His GRACE abounds, and He grows faith in us that's stronger than fire. In the end, the ones who struggle seem to also be the ones who prevail - the ones who do believe - the ones who don't become callous by trite answers, a sandy faith.
All that to say, I don't doubt that Jesus holds real answers for IT and Sonia. I don't know what those answers are - but I'm not afraid to pray for them. I'm not afraid to tell them that He can meet all their needs - and to really believe that that's the truth . . . seriously. Not just because I want to evangelize . . . but because I am willing to walk the distance with them and see Him provide for every one of their needs. He is strong and faithful. I am confident of this - I will see the goodness of God in the land of the living.
I've been reading of Daniel's friends over and over again during my time here . . . what were they thinking, telling the King to throw them into that fire? "But even if our God doesn't save us from the flames, still He is worthy . . . "
Why is He worthy? Is He still good if they burn to death? Is He?
I've never known Him to fail in His perfect redemption. Never.
Can I just mention, too . . . I talked to my mom on the phone yesterday, and, as often happens, she brought something to light in my life. I bumped into serving women involved in prostitution nearly on accident - quite literally. Somehow, it's become so intimately a part of my life that I can't even imagine turning away from it. Now that I've been exposed to this injustice, turning my back would be like murder . . . I will fight for them; I will fight against this - because it stands in severe opposition to the Gospel that I believe. Even when my faith is shaky . . .
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Vindication
I met a Nigerian woman today who was trafficked and left prostitution. I'll call her Lisa.
Lisa was sold into sexual slavery by her cousin. Yes, her blood relative. She came to Athens hoping for work . . . and was immediately locked up. She met women from Nea Zoi shortly after arriving - in fact, she met Emma on the street while working one night. Emma said she was clearly distraught - had been through much suffering and was very unhappy. She wanted help - and Emma asked her to come to Nea Zoi during the day.
"I can't," she said.
"What do you mean, you can't?" Emma asked. It was in the early days of the ministry - before it had been uncovered that many women are trafficked in much the same way as Lisa, through family members. In fact, Nea Zoi did some of the first gound-work to reveal that trafficking is a cultural issue in Nigeria - which is ironic, because I just read about it in a book by Kathryn Farr (and thought to myself - I know who to credit for some of that research!) In the past ten years, we can rejoice that the Lord has done so much to uncover, expose, and lay bare the things hidden in darkness - to expose so much of the trafficking scene and arise a rage within the global community over the injustices it perpetuates.
Anyway, their relationship began - and continued - from there. Emma explained to her that she didn't have to stay in prostitution - that 'there are those' who can help her get out. Through a series of events, Lisa ended up in prison and back on the streets several times (which happens often to the girls - but they are too afraid to testify against those who hold them in bondage). Finally, during one prison stay, she called Nea Zoi and told Emma she was ready to testify against her trafficker. She did - and the case was brought to court. The case was dead before it hit the ground - the police had seen her return to the streets so many times after being released from prison that they had little ground to believe her and much evidence against her, but didn't understand the role of fear and voodoo in all of this.
In the court case, Lisa was brought into a room with her madam and two other girls that worked out of the same hotel - and asked to acknowledge in front of them that she was trafficked. Of course, she denied it - it's like asking a girl who was raped by a drug dealer in front of him and two of his (cronies?) to testify against him. FEAR - there is no trust of a "justice" system that seems so much less powerful than organized crime networks!!
And then, Emma got connected with a strong lawyer from somewhere up in Northwestern Europe - perhaps Holland if I remember right. Apparently, he has a chip on his shoulder and is good at making enemies - but he's also good at winning. He showed the foolishness of the former court case - and all of the holes in the background research that had been done. He brought to light the Nigerian crime circle . . . and he stinking won the case.
The Lord vindicated Lisa . . .
She got a residency permit and a legal job as a dishwasher at a local restaurant. And she loved her job . . . which I think is so beautiful.
Sad news: she was on a TV interview shortly after proclaiming the atrocities of trafficking and pleading with other women to leave the life. Her network of Nigerian friends - most of whom work in prostitution as well - found out about it and ostracized her. They won't speak to her - they've written her off and hate her. They've sent the video all throughout their community. She's alone.
But she found a solid church - and she's strengthened and encouraged by the community there. And by the strength that is found in Jesus when we make difficult, righteous decisions. Unfortunately, she's won herself a lot of enemies - It's so interesting the way that the suffering still desire to hide their abusers. Fear is a mighty weapon. - Unfortunately, her passport was recently stolen (perhaps by her Nigerian room-mate) . . . and so she lost her job.
But she's determined to stay on track - she came in to meet with Emma today to brainstorm about how to find another job as a house-cleaner . . . a pretty popular (if low-paying) job in Greece.
And someday, she dreams of advocating more for girls who are locked in the bondage that she chose to face. Already, her cousin in Nigeria was "being sent" to Paris to work - just as she'd been - and Lisa said, "No, no . . . don't go! You don't understand where they're sending you!!"
It's fear that bounds them. I heard of another girl today who was thrown out of a second story window by her madam (Madam's are similar to pimps here - they watch and control the girls in brothels, taking their money and paying off the pimps) and still refused to testify against her trafficker - though she was paralyzed from the waist down by the fall.
Jesus, let Your perfect love cast down fear in this place - and show these women that Your love is not just the soft and feathery kind. Your JUSTICE is strong - Your wrath is real - You are STRONG to deliver, and bigger than injustice - You reign over organized crime networks, pimps, and the negligence of national justice systems. You are God - and Your love is big enough to vindicate these women! Hallelujah!!
Lisa was sold into sexual slavery by her cousin. Yes, her blood relative. She came to Athens hoping for work . . . and was immediately locked up. She met women from Nea Zoi shortly after arriving - in fact, she met Emma on the street while working one night. Emma said she was clearly distraught - had been through much suffering and was very unhappy. She wanted help - and Emma asked her to come to Nea Zoi during the day.
"I can't," she said.
"What do you mean, you can't?" Emma asked. It was in the early days of the ministry - before it had been uncovered that many women are trafficked in much the same way as Lisa, through family members. In fact, Nea Zoi did some of the first gound-work to reveal that trafficking is a cultural issue in Nigeria - which is ironic, because I just read about it in a book by Kathryn Farr (and thought to myself - I know who to credit for some of that research!) In the past ten years, we can rejoice that the Lord has done so much to uncover, expose, and lay bare the things hidden in darkness - to expose so much of the trafficking scene and arise a rage within the global community over the injustices it perpetuates.
Anyway, their relationship began - and continued - from there. Emma explained to her that she didn't have to stay in prostitution - that 'there are those' who can help her get out. Through a series of events, Lisa ended up in prison and back on the streets several times (which happens often to the girls - but they are too afraid to testify against those who hold them in bondage). Finally, during one prison stay, she called Nea Zoi and told Emma she was ready to testify against her trafficker. She did - and the case was brought to court. The case was dead before it hit the ground - the police had seen her return to the streets so many times after being released from prison that they had little ground to believe her and much evidence against her, but didn't understand the role of fear and voodoo in all of this.
In the court case, Lisa was brought into a room with her madam and two other girls that worked out of the same hotel - and asked to acknowledge in front of them that she was trafficked. Of course, she denied it - it's like asking a girl who was raped by a drug dealer in front of him and two of his (cronies?) to testify against him. FEAR - there is no trust of a "justice" system that seems so much less powerful than organized crime networks!!
And then, Emma got connected with a strong lawyer from somewhere up in Northwestern Europe - perhaps Holland if I remember right. Apparently, he has a chip on his shoulder and is good at making enemies - but he's also good at winning. He showed the foolishness of the former court case - and all of the holes in the background research that had been done. He brought to light the Nigerian crime circle . . . and he stinking won the case.
The Lord vindicated Lisa . . .
She got a residency permit and a legal job as a dishwasher at a local restaurant. And she loved her job . . . which I think is so beautiful.
Sad news: she was on a TV interview shortly after proclaiming the atrocities of trafficking and pleading with other women to leave the life. Her network of Nigerian friends - most of whom work in prostitution as well - found out about it and ostracized her. They won't speak to her - they've written her off and hate her. They've sent the video all throughout their community. She's alone.
But she found a solid church - and she's strengthened and encouraged by the community there. And by the strength that is found in Jesus when we make difficult, righteous decisions. Unfortunately, she's won herself a lot of enemies - It's so interesting the way that the suffering still desire to hide their abusers. Fear is a mighty weapon. - Unfortunately, her passport was recently stolen (perhaps by her Nigerian room-mate) . . . and so she lost her job.
But she's determined to stay on track - she came in to meet with Emma today to brainstorm about how to find another job as a house-cleaner . . . a pretty popular (if low-paying) job in Greece.
And someday, she dreams of advocating more for girls who are locked in the bondage that she chose to face. Already, her cousin in Nigeria was "being sent" to Paris to work - just as she'd been - and Lisa said, "No, no . . . don't go! You don't understand where they're sending you!!"
It's fear that bounds them. I heard of another girl today who was thrown out of a second story window by her madam (Madam's are similar to pimps here - they watch and control the girls in brothels, taking their money and paying off the pimps) and still refused to testify against her trafficker - though she was paralyzed from the waist down by the fall.
Jesus, let Your perfect love cast down fear in this place - and show these women that Your love is not just the soft and feathery kind. Your JUSTICE is strong - Your wrath is real - You are STRONG to deliver, and bigger than injustice - You reign over organized crime networks, pimps, and the negligence of national justice systems. You are God - and Your love is big enough to vindicate these women! Hallelujah!!
Beached Refugees
I spent yesterday at Helping Hands - it's another ministry in downtown Athens that's associated with Nea Zoi . . . both are organizations associated with International Teams, a Christian missions organization based in Illinois with teams all over the world (i.e. international).
Helping Hands is actually the original ITeams organization in Athens - Nea Zoi sprouted 10 years ago out of work that had already begun at Helping Hands . . . which has been around for I think somewhere between 20 or 30 years. It's a refugee center - similar in a few ways to New Horizons (but it offers more simple services because it serves such a huge - and even more transient - population), in that it's basically a drop-in center that provides showers, tea, and sometimes meals for refugee families. They share the Gospel regularly and see many people - particularly Muslims - come to Jesus, and they also provide simple services helping some individuals get medical attention, get papers for work, etc. The work they do is powerful . . . and obviously, needs continue to remain unmet . . . I don't think ministry will ever be sufficient to meet all the needs of people. Thank You, Jesus, that Your Kingdom is near . . . we ache for Your fullness!
Some background: Athens, obviously, is a HUGE port for refugees . . . because Greece is surrounded by the Mediterannean. The European Union has created a law that whichever nation a refugee first sets foot on, that will be his/her nation of residence. Obvisouly, then, people coming from the Middle East and North Africa hit Greece first - either one of her islands or the mainland. Meanwhile, Greece has some kind of law that they refuse to deport immigrants - legal or illegal. However, they also make it ridiculously difficult (and expensive) to obtain papers - so most cannot find work, and those who do are often working illegally/under-handedly. It works out cheaper for the owners, who can pay their workers less because they don't have to worry about taxes. (Similar to dish-washing and kitchen jobs at most restaurants in the US - at least the ones I worked at.) All that to say, refugees ABOUND throughout the city. Literally - they're everywhere. Lots of Farsi.
Up until a few weeks ago, when some new gov't officials were elected, and, to somehow prove their power or something, decided that they would sweep the city scouting out refugees and illegal immigrants. And so they filled up trucks with them and literally just trucked them off to the coast. So they cleared the streets of Athens (somewhat) . . . and now they've basically got refugee camps living on the beaches. Hmm.
Regardless, Helping Hands is still busy - though many of the refugees are too far away from Athens to receive services right now. While there yesterday, I met several wonderful women - some missionaries from America (one woman in particular who is in her 50's and came with her husband from Oregon last year after selling their business and their home SERIOUSLY encouraged me about God's provision), and some beautiful refugee women from varoius places . . . Eastern Europe and the Middle East primarily. Farsi speakers are in HUGE DEMAND . . . most of the missionaries speak English, little Greek, and very little Farsi. Languages are like gold in this city.
One woman in particular stood out to me yesterday - I have no idea how to spell her name, but it's pronounced Bighnose . . . kind of like Big Nose but with a more ghuttoral sounding "g." Ironically, she was a very beautiful woman and she didn't have a big nose at all. She looked like she was in her 20's . . . she had a young daughter and a husband . . . and her face beamed when we spoke. She was from Afghanistan - she had run from the Taliban, but she had been a teacher there before. She taught Elementary school - mostly 6-8 year olds, and she held a tattered photo book with pictures of her students that she shared with me. Her English was very good - better than most; she was intelligent and stable and seemed to still hold hope. But her story was devastating . . .
She left in January of this year. While teaching, men from the Taliban came in and tied her with ropes. They demanded that she pay them a large fee with threats - but she had no money. They slit the throats of four of her students (6-8 years old) in front of her eyes. In front of her eyes.
How do you recover from that trauma - and smile the way she smiled? You know, in National Geographic, they make it seem that Afghani women who have been through that sort of trauma wear eyes that are misted with sorrow . . . faces clouded with despair. None of that was true of Bighnose. She was easy to laugh with . . . I would have loved to spend time at her home and invite her into mine. Of course, she doesn't have a home. She's a refugee - a sojourner - a wanderer without a home.
It is good to be reminded that these transient comforts - a house, security, comfort - they are good, but they are not the only things that can give us hope and joy. It is good to be reminded that we are all sojourners here . . . Jesus, we long for Your Kingdom . . .
Do I write that in every post?
I find it interesting that I've only been here 8 days . . . and yet I've found in one city a place where so many of my passions all through the years collide . . . African women, refugees from all corners of the earth, women who have been trafficked and enslaved - by a soul-bondage deeper than human injustice, an inner-city seeping with despair and hungry for community, racial tension, a church that is crippled but longing to grow, a missionary community full of life and love and passion - but tired and needing help.
I dreamed last night that I was living in Athens . . . and I woke up scared.
Lord Jesus, I surrender - make me Yours. In Your will, there is peace. In obedience, there is rest. In Your sovereignty, there is freedom.
I choose to be led and Lorded by only You.
Helping Hands is actually the original ITeams organization in Athens - Nea Zoi sprouted 10 years ago out of work that had already begun at Helping Hands . . . which has been around for I think somewhere between 20 or 30 years. It's a refugee center - similar in a few ways to New Horizons (but it offers more simple services because it serves such a huge - and even more transient - population), in that it's basically a drop-in center that provides showers, tea, and sometimes meals for refugee families. They share the Gospel regularly and see many people - particularly Muslims - come to Jesus, and they also provide simple services helping some individuals get medical attention, get papers for work, etc. The work they do is powerful . . . and obviously, needs continue to remain unmet . . . I don't think ministry will ever be sufficient to meet all the needs of people. Thank You, Jesus, that Your Kingdom is near . . . we ache for Your fullness!
Some background: Athens, obviously, is a HUGE port for refugees . . . because Greece is surrounded by the Mediterannean. The European Union has created a law that whichever nation a refugee first sets foot on, that will be his/her nation of residence. Obvisouly, then, people coming from the Middle East and North Africa hit Greece first - either one of her islands or the mainland. Meanwhile, Greece has some kind of law that they refuse to deport immigrants - legal or illegal. However, they also make it ridiculously difficult (and expensive) to obtain papers - so most cannot find work, and those who do are often working illegally/under-handedly. It works out cheaper for the owners, who can pay their workers less because they don't have to worry about taxes. (Similar to dish-washing and kitchen jobs at most restaurants in the US - at least the ones I worked at.) All that to say, refugees ABOUND throughout the city. Literally - they're everywhere. Lots of Farsi.
Up until a few weeks ago, when some new gov't officials were elected, and, to somehow prove their power or something, decided that they would sweep the city scouting out refugees and illegal immigrants. And so they filled up trucks with them and literally just trucked them off to the coast. So they cleared the streets of Athens (somewhat) . . . and now they've basically got refugee camps living on the beaches. Hmm.
Regardless, Helping Hands is still busy - though many of the refugees are too far away from Athens to receive services right now. While there yesterday, I met several wonderful women - some missionaries from America (one woman in particular who is in her 50's and came with her husband from Oregon last year after selling their business and their home SERIOUSLY encouraged me about God's provision), and some beautiful refugee women from varoius places . . . Eastern Europe and the Middle East primarily. Farsi speakers are in HUGE DEMAND . . . most of the missionaries speak English, little Greek, and very little Farsi. Languages are like gold in this city.
One woman in particular stood out to me yesterday - I have no idea how to spell her name, but it's pronounced Bighnose . . . kind of like Big Nose but with a more ghuttoral sounding "g." Ironically, she was a very beautiful woman and she didn't have a big nose at all. She looked like she was in her 20's . . . she had a young daughter and a husband . . . and her face beamed when we spoke. She was from Afghanistan - she had run from the Taliban, but she had been a teacher there before. She taught Elementary school - mostly 6-8 year olds, and she held a tattered photo book with pictures of her students that she shared with me. Her English was very good - better than most; she was intelligent and stable and seemed to still hold hope. But her story was devastating . . .
She left in January of this year. While teaching, men from the Taliban came in and tied her with ropes. They demanded that she pay them a large fee with threats - but she had no money. They slit the throats of four of her students (6-8 years old) in front of her eyes. In front of her eyes.
How do you recover from that trauma - and smile the way she smiled? You know, in National Geographic, they make it seem that Afghani women who have been through that sort of trauma wear eyes that are misted with sorrow . . . faces clouded with despair. None of that was true of Bighnose. She was easy to laugh with . . . I would have loved to spend time at her home and invite her into mine. Of course, she doesn't have a home. She's a refugee - a sojourner - a wanderer without a home.
It is good to be reminded that these transient comforts - a house, security, comfort - they are good, but they are not the only things that can give us hope and joy. It is good to be reminded that we are all sojourners here . . . Jesus, we long for Your Kingdom . . .
Do I write that in every post?
I find it interesting that I've only been here 8 days . . . and yet I've found in one city a place where so many of my passions all through the years collide . . . African women, refugees from all corners of the earth, women who have been trafficked and enslaved - by a soul-bondage deeper than human injustice, an inner-city seeping with despair and hungry for community, racial tension, a church that is crippled but longing to grow, a missionary community full of life and love and passion - but tired and needing help.
I dreamed last night that I was living in Athens . . . and I woke up scared.
Lord Jesus, I surrender - make me Yours. In Your will, there is peace. In obedience, there is rest. In Your sovereignty, there is freedom.
I choose to be led and Lorded by only You.
More on Greek Evangelical "Heretics" :)
It's been a busy couple of days . . . I can't fit it all in. I was thinking this morning how funny the pictures that I posted on Facebook are in some ways . . . because in truth, I've taken so many pics, but they're all of ancient ruins and spectacular buildings. Most of my time, though, is in less glorious places . . .
Walking home from outreach at 2am the other night, we side-stepped cockroaches and druggies, who shared needles while sitting on doorjams in the public square. In this area of the city, I guess, the police don't do anything about it - it's in plain view, but the police just want them to die anyway so they'll be out of the way. I've heard from locals that it was only in the months preceding the Olympics - and in parts of the city that tourists frequent - where police pay attention to justice.
This city of the gods is empty without Christ.
A few posts back, I mentioned that Athens contains half the population of Greece (but I think I said 3 million and 6 million, respectively). Apparently, I was way off -- Athens is about 6 million, and the whole of Greece is nearing 12 million. That makes a lot more sense . . .
This place is hurting for good churches. For real community. For the broken bread of Christ to break through . . . you know, I guess 1st Evangelical Church (remember, there are only 3 in a city of 6 million - and their attendance is small at that) has just had a phenomenal idea. ** Side- note: Evangelical Christians are literally considered heretics here. Wow! So, we're like the crazies that no one listens to in Greece. :) **
Anyway, the Pastor at 1st church got this crazy idea that he wanted to get the gospel out into the community - and start proclaiming freedom to the post-modern population that doesn't want to have anything to do with religion. He had the idea of some kind of community based home-churches . . . where, instead of having to meet in a designated place of religion, people can meet and share the gospel in homes over dinner. (Greece is all about eating . . .) And I'm thinking, "Pheonomenal idea - sounds like the new movement in the States!" And it's giving the church hope and purpose . . .
They're just starting to brainstorm about this!! Hallelujah!
(As another side-note for those of you more intimately aquainted with my life throughout this past year, remember how bizarre I thought it was when I really felt like the Lord was leading me to University Presbyterian Church? Remember how I felt like another church fit me so much better - and I really didn't want to go to this one, and then He confirmed it so clearly? Remember how I've talked about it being good - but very uncomfortable and different for me in so many ways?
I just wanted to remind myself of God's faithfulness in the small things -- because He knows me so intimately and really does care about the details. These three Evangelical Churches are Presbyterian - started by Presbyterian missionaries. And when I was there on Sunday, I was familiar with much of the liturgy, prayers, and hymns - and felt somewhat at home . . . whereas many of the missionaries here come from more charismatic backgrounds, and have insinuated that there are times when it's really been a struggle for them to feel at home in the church. Not because of poor teaching - but because of different ideas about worship primarily. Interesting the way that Jesus has been teaching me to worship Him in Spirit and in truth in a setting much different than I am used to in the States.)
Walking home from outreach at 2am the other night, we side-stepped cockroaches and druggies, who shared needles while sitting on doorjams in the public square. In this area of the city, I guess, the police don't do anything about it - it's in plain view, but the police just want them to die anyway so they'll be out of the way. I've heard from locals that it was only in the months preceding the Olympics - and in parts of the city that tourists frequent - where police pay attention to justice.
This city of the gods is empty without Christ.
A few posts back, I mentioned that Athens contains half the population of Greece (but I think I said 3 million and 6 million, respectively). Apparently, I was way off -- Athens is about 6 million, and the whole of Greece is nearing 12 million. That makes a lot more sense . . .
This place is hurting for good churches. For real community. For the broken bread of Christ to break through . . . you know, I guess 1st Evangelical Church (remember, there are only 3 in a city of 6 million - and their attendance is small at that) has just had a phenomenal idea. ** Side- note: Evangelical Christians are literally considered heretics here. Wow! So, we're like the crazies that no one listens to in Greece. :) **
Anyway, the Pastor at 1st church got this crazy idea that he wanted to get the gospel out into the community - and start proclaiming freedom to the post-modern population that doesn't want to have anything to do with religion. He had the idea of some kind of community based home-churches . . . where, instead of having to meet in a designated place of religion, people can meet and share the gospel in homes over dinner. (Greece is all about eating . . .) And I'm thinking, "Pheonomenal idea - sounds like the new movement in the States!" And it's giving the church hope and purpose . . .
They're just starting to brainstorm about this!! Hallelujah!
(As another side-note for those of you more intimately aquainted with my life throughout this past year, remember how bizarre I thought it was when I really felt like the Lord was leading me to University Presbyterian Church? Remember how I felt like another church fit me so much better - and I really didn't want to go to this one, and then He confirmed it so clearly? Remember how I've talked about it being good - but very uncomfortable and different for me in so many ways?
I just wanted to remind myself of God's faithfulness in the small things -- because He knows me so intimately and really does care about the details. These three Evangelical Churches are Presbyterian - started by Presbyterian missionaries. And when I was there on Sunday, I was familiar with much of the liturgy, prayers, and hymns - and felt somewhat at home . . . whereas many of the missionaries here come from more charismatic backgrounds, and have insinuated that there are times when it's really been a struggle for them to feel at home in the church. Not because of poor teaching - but because of different ideas about worship primarily. Interesting the way that Jesus has been teaching me to worship Him in Spirit and in truth in a setting much different than I am used to in the States.)
Sunday, July 5, 2009
AND we (Laurie and I) went to the Acropolis museum today . . .
This is the Acropolis . . . which, as I've said before, is literally two blocks from my flat. And I have lots of other better pics . . . but it is so annoying to try to post pics to my blog, so I think I'm just going to post them on Facebook. If that's difficult too, I might just wait til I get home . . . :)
I'm Sorry . . . Let Freedom RING!!
After church this afternoon, I went with another woman (Britt) from Nea Zoi to meet with a woman who was trafficked to Athens (along with hundreds of others) . . . and REFUSED to prostitute herself. I was told that she was beaten and abused . . . and still stood her ground.
Now, she's working as a home-cleaner for a Greek family - a live-in house-keeper. And she aches for her home nation . . . but she's a beacon of hope to me. No matter the cost . . . she stood her ground. Wow. Jesus, pour out . . . pour out . . . pour into her all your love, all your truth, all your strength. Thank you, LORD . . . for the testimony of your daughter. . .
This woman goes to an International church in another part of Athens. They call it a Pentecostal church - I hear they preach the Health & Wealth Gospel there, which is ironic because the congregation is made up of refugees and ex-prostitutes. Lord, that they would hear more of Your word than false promises about what faith can buy you. The pastor explains that if they only have enough faith, surely they will be rich too -- and I ache for them to know God's promises, and that faith brings freedom, redemption, and wholeness . . . treasures so much richer than money.
But the woman herself - wow. I was blown away. What a beautiful woman! I was wearing a sun-dress and sweating with 3 other sweating American girls sitting under an umbrella at a little Greek cafe . . . and she walked up in a long-sleeved black shirt, assuring us that her nation is much hotter and she wasn't even warm at all. Dark skin, high cheek-bones, full lips and beautiful smile . . . her eyes were dark and a bit sad . . .
My flat-mate Laurie spent 6 weeks in this woman's native country last summer, and began sharing with the woman - who started laughing nervously and thanking her over and over again as Laurie described the food, the music, the clothes - how much she loved the people and the culture.
We sat in silence for a moment following the rain of her laugh . . . and then the woman said, "You know, the reason that I say 'thank you,' is because so many times here . . . people don't know, they just don't understand that I have another culture. That I come from another place. And that it's beautiful there."
She pulled at her skin - rubbing it hard, like she could rub the color away, and she said, "You know, they look at the color of my skin - the way I am dark, darker than them. I have brown skin and not white - so they judge me and they think they know all about me. They think that I am only good for some things . . . that I can't ever be like them. I feel that all the time."
She went on about the racism that she faced . . . on a regular basis . . . and I wasn't hungry anymore. I felt like my heart was flayed open and bleeding all over our little wooden table, and suddenly the sun burned right through our umbrella. How do you swallow that?
Jesus, hear I stand . . . a white woman. Thank You for giving me this skin - so I can say I'm sorry. Sorry for being the Oppressor that never notices those we tread on . . . Sorry for stripping bare other cultures . . . Sorry for ignoring injustice because it benefits me . . . Sorry for forgetting past hurts and blinding myself to present ones . . . Sorry that somewhere deep down, the piece of me that still says I DESERVE THE BEST still screams out of a cage and alters my vision just a bit.
Destroy in me, Destroyer God, the Evil One. I want to live in freedom . . . for freedom. I want to set the Oppressed free . . . so I give up the Oppressor's Throne, and I ask You to tear it out of me. TEAR IT OUT OF ME - and spare nothing.
Funny thing, as I'm here in Athens, I've been thinking about some of the Case Studies we look at at ICCD . . . thinking about some of the needs at Nea Zoi, some of the needs of the women -- some of the ways that maybe I match up with some of those things . . .
I was talking last night at the 4th of July party with Emma and another British staff member (Joanna, whose leaving in January - Emma's right hand). I had an idea after outreach to the Nigerian girls the other night . . . you know, 5 of them graduated from an employment mentorship program last week . . . but all of them are still working in prostitution because they don't have other options. They don't have the papers to get another job and they don't speak Greek . . .
I thought it would be so cool to start a business for these women where they could make baskets, make clothes, make jewelry from Nigeria - sell them and keep the profit. Set up some kind of micro-finance loans or something to get the business started . . .
Joanna said they've been thinking of something like that for the last few years, and they've got no one to start it . . . Hmmmm. I don't know Greek, I know nothing about Nigerian basket-weaving, and I know very little about starting a business . . . but I've learned enough from ICCD to at least know some of the questions I need to start asking so I can maybe organize something . . .
And if I came back . . . two years? Five years? Maybe we could get it started together . . .
What I really want, though, Jesus, is to live in a world where racism isn't breaking the backs of your people anymore. Let Your Kingdom come, Jesus . . . for the sake of the Oppressed and the Oppressor. We need Your freedom. We need Your healing. We need You, Jesus . . . Jesus. The One who said that there is no Jew or Greek, in You we all are One . . . Come, Lord, set us free. Hallelujah to the King who REIGNS. Aslan is on the move . . .
Now, she's working as a home-cleaner for a Greek family - a live-in house-keeper. And she aches for her home nation . . . but she's a beacon of hope to me. No matter the cost . . . she stood her ground. Wow. Jesus, pour out . . . pour out . . . pour into her all your love, all your truth, all your strength. Thank you, LORD . . . for the testimony of your daughter. . .
This woman goes to an International church in another part of Athens. They call it a Pentecostal church - I hear they preach the Health & Wealth Gospel there, which is ironic because the congregation is made up of refugees and ex-prostitutes. Lord, that they would hear more of Your word than false promises about what faith can buy you. The pastor explains that if they only have enough faith, surely they will be rich too -- and I ache for them to know God's promises, and that faith brings freedom, redemption, and wholeness . . . treasures so much richer than money.
But the woman herself - wow. I was blown away. What a beautiful woman! I was wearing a sun-dress and sweating with 3 other sweating American girls sitting under an umbrella at a little Greek cafe . . . and she walked up in a long-sleeved black shirt, assuring us that her nation is much hotter and she wasn't even warm at all. Dark skin, high cheek-bones, full lips and beautiful smile . . . her eyes were dark and a bit sad . . .
My flat-mate Laurie spent 6 weeks in this woman's native country last summer, and began sharing with the woman - who started laughing nervously and thanking her over and over again as Laurie described the food, the music, the clothes - how much she loved the people and the culture.
We sat in silence for a moment following the rain of her laugh . . . and then the woman said, "You know, the reason that I say 'thank you,' is because so many times here . . . people don't know, they just don't understand that I have another culture. That I come from another place. And that it's beautiful there."
She pulled at her skin - rubbing it hard, like she could rub the color away, and she said, "You know, they look at the color of my skin - the way I am dark, darker than them. I have brown skin and not white - so they judge me and they think they know all about me. They think that I am only good for some things . . . that I can't ever be like them. I feel that all the time."
She went on about the racism that she faced . . . on a regular basis . . . and I wasn't hungry anymore. I felt like my heart was flayed open and bleeding all over our little wooden table, and suddenly the sun burned right through our umbrella. How do you swallow that?
Jesus, hear I stand . . . a white woman. Thank You for giving me this skin - so I can say I'm sorry. Sorry for being the Oppressor that never notices those we tread on . . . Sorry for stripping bare other cultures . . . Sorry for ignoring injustice because it benefits me . . . Sorry for forgetting past hurts and blinding myself to present ones . . . Sorry that somewhere deep down, the piece of me that still says I DESERVE THE BEST still screams out of a cage and alters my vision just a bit.
Destroy in me, Destroyer God, the Evil One. I want to live in freedom . . . for freedom. I want to set the Oppressed free . . . so I give up the Oppressor's Throne, and I ask You to tear it out of me. TEAR IT OUT OF ME - and spare nothing.
Funny thing, as I'm here in Athens, I've been thinking about some of the Case Studies we look at at ICCD . . . thinking about some of the needs at Nea Zoi, some of the needs of the women -- some of the ways that maybe I match up with some of those things . . .
I was talking last night at the 4th of July party with Emma and another British staff member (Joanna, whose leaving in January - Emma's right hand). I had an idea after outreach to the Nigerian girls the other night . . . you know, 5 of them graduated from an employment mentorship program last week . . . but all of them are still working in prostitution because they don't have other options. They don't have the papers to get another job and they don't speak Greek . . .
I thought it would be so cool to start a business for these women where they could make baskets, make clothes, make jewelry from Nigeria - sell them and keep the profit. Set up some kind of micro-finance loans or something to get the business started . . .
Joanna said they've been thinking of something like that for the last few years, and they've got no one to start it . . . Hmmmm. I don't know Greek, I know nothing about Nigerian basket-weaving, and I know very little about starting a business . . . but I've learned enough from ICCD to at least know some of the questions I need to start asking so I can maybe organize something . . .
And if I came back . . . two years? Five years? Maybe we could get it started together . . .
What I really want, though, Jesus, is to live in a world where racism isn't breaking the backs of your people anymore. Let Your Kingdom come, Jesus . . . for the sake of the Oppressed and the Oppressor. We need Your freedom. We need Your healing. We need You, Jesus . . . Jesus. The One who said that there is no Jew or Greek, in You we all are One . . . Come, Lord, set us free. Hallelujah to the King who REIGNS. Aslan is on the move . . .
Church and Rain
(<-- Those are two Greek women in the rain . . . )
Walked to church this morning in the blazing sunshine . . . in Athens, we walk everywhere in the middle of the road. Sidewalks are impassable . . . because, among other obstacles, cars park ON them.
Orange trees erupt out of the cement sidewalk at random intervals, providing brief aesthetic respite from graffitied apartment buildings rocketing up to compete with rare clouds against the ceiling of blue.
As for Evangelical Greek churches in Athens, there are three. And they're easy to remember - because they're called 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. Despite the population of over 3 million, I've heard statistically that less than .2% of the people believe that Jesus is Lord and follow Him as such. Whoever believes statistics, and how is something like that measureable anyway . . . regardless, it makes sense culturally and historically that so many people know and follow my Lord. Greek Orthodoxy is older than the cement jungle of Omonia (the downtown area). The comparison would sound a lot more stark if you saw how old Omonia really is . . . Orthodoxy goes back thousands of years. If I remember right, I think it's the Ottoman (or Byzantine) Empire . . . when the Turks broke loose over the whole Mediterranean. So to Greeks, to be Christian is to be Orthodox is to own your own heritage is to be Greek. Sadly, somewhere in the mix of culture and heritage, the beauty and powerful redemption of Jesus got lost . . . wow.
So ironically, the 3 Evangelical Greek churches in Athens were started by Turkish believers who crossed the border because they had more religious freedom in Greece. They founded three churches which are primarily now occupied by one large, extended family each . . . so 1st doesn't really hang out with 2nd, nor does 2nd hang out with 3rd. (I don't know if that means that inter-marriage abounds or what . . . but apparently, if your family goes to 1st, you DO NOT go to 2nd.) So the believers are pretty small . . . and pretty exclusive.
However, at 2nd Church, where I attended this morning, the message came with power (which I've heard is consistently true). He spoke on Romans 12 - sharing the importance of sharing God's Word with unbelievers so that they can know and follow Him as well. If you're not familiar with the passage, you should read it - it's super powerful (and convicting). I guess from what I hear, the Pastor really lives out the message he speaks, too . . . he's super involved with the community, serving with Nea Zoi sometimes and also with homeless youth, etc. in the area. Awesome. Wow, and he KNEW the Word . . . I was so deeply encouraged about the power and transforming love of Jesus today.
Anyway, I found the whole experience quite interesting - I always find churches in other cultures interesting. I got a pair of head-phones, through which the message was translated. Worship was hymns . . . all familiar from my time at UPC. But, I tried to practice my Greek and sing them IN Greek. It's funny learning a new alphabet . . . I'm sounding out the first three letters of the first word on the first line by the time the congregration has gotten through the first two verses and the refrain. Not really . . . but almost.
The adventure continues . . . when I got home this evening (after other afternoon activities), I practiced my Greek more while listening to Ne-Yo and dancing in my room with the French doors to the balcony open and the breeze blowing in. Probably it would have been more beneficial to my GREEK if I hadn't been listening to Ne-Yo, but I just love him so . . . AND I found out today that he's coming to the Puyallup Fair (best day of my life FOR SURE).
There's a storm rolling in now . . . 3rd day in a row of thunder-storms, which is only testimony of how deeply Jesus loves me, because apparently it storms about TWICE every summer in Greece - and I've gotten to experience it. The rain pours out of the sky in BUCKETS literally - and lightning embraces the tight streets and thunder belches his frustration across the sky. The breeze sends the smell of heat and wetness through my doors . . .
Yesterday, my flat-mate and I got caught in the rain when we were out on the street . . . we stood under an awning with crowds of Greeks that all come out of their houses and restaurants and shops just to watch and laugh . . . and the most determined of the street vendors run along the lines of people trying adamently to sell umbrellas (while they themselves get soaked).
This is so beautiful!!
Orange trees erupt out of the cement sidewalk at random intervals, providing brief aesthetic respite from graffitied apartment buildings rocketing up to compete with rare clouds against the ceiling of blue.
As for Evangelical Greek churches in Athens, there are three. And they're easy to remember - because they're called 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. Despite the population of over 3 million, I've heard statistically that less than .2% of the people believe that Jesus is Lord and follow Him as such. Whoever believes statistics, and how is something like that measureable anyway . . . regardless, it makes sense culturally and historically that so many people know and follow my Lord. Greek Orthodoxy is older than the cement jungle of Omonia (the downtown area). The comparison would sound a lot more stark if you saw how old Omonia really is . . . Orthodoxy goes back thousands of years. If I remember right, I think it's the Ottoman (or Byzantine) Empire . . . when the Turks broke loose over the whole Mediterranean. So to Greeks, to be Christian is to be Orthodox is to own your own heritage is to be Greek. Sadly, somewhere in the mix of culture and heritage, the beauty and powerful redemption of Jesus got lost . . . wow.
So ironically, the 3 Evangelical Greek churches in Athens were started by Turkish believers who crossed the border because they had more religious freedom in Greece. They founded three churches which are primarily now occupied by one large, extended family each . . . so 1st doesn't really hang out with 2nd, nor does 2nd hang out with 3rd. (I don't know if that means that inter-marriage abounds or what . . . but apparently, if your family goes to 1st, you DO NOT go to 2nd.) So the believers are pretty small . . . and pretty exclusive.
However, at 2nd Church, where I attended this morning, the message came with power (which I've heard is consistently true). He spoke on Romans 12 - sharing the importance of sharing God's Word with unbelievers so that they can know and follow Him as well. If you're not familiar with the passage, you should read it - it's super powerful (and convicting). I guess from what I hear, the Pastor really lives out the message he speaks, too . . . he's super involved with the community, serving with Nea Zoi sometimes and also with homeless youth, etc. in the area. Awesome. Wow, and he KNEW the Word . . . I was so deeply encouraged about the power and transforming love of Jesus today.
Anyway, I found the whole experience quite interesting - I always find churches in other cultures interesting. I got a pair of head-phones, through which the message was translated. Worship was hymns . . . all familiar from my time at UPC. But, I tried to practice my Greek and sing them IN Greek. It's funny learning a new alphabet . . . I'm sounding out the first three letters of the first word on the first line by the time the congregration has gotten through the first two verses and the refrain. Not really . . . but almost.
The adventure continues . . . when I got home this evening (after other afternoon activities), I practiced my Greek more while listening to Ne-Yo and dancing in my room with the French doors to the balcony open and the breeze blowing in. Probably it would have been more beneficial to my GREEK if I hadn't been listening to Ne-Yo, but I just love him so . . . AND I found out today that he's coming to the Puyallup Fair (best day of my life FOR SURE).
There's a storm rolling in now . . . 3rd day in a row of thunder-storms, which is only testimony of how deeply Jesus loves me, because apparently it storms about TWICE every summer in Greece - and I've gotten to experience it. The rain pours out of the sky in BUCKETS literally - and lightning embraces the tight streets and thunder belches his frustration across the sky. The breeze sends the smell of heat and wetness through my doors . . .
Yesterday, my flat-mate and I got caught in the rain when we were out on the street . . . we stood under an awning with crowds of Greeks that all come out of their houses and restaurants and shops just to watch and laugh . . . and the most determined of the street vendors run along the lines of people trying adamently to sell umbrellas (while they themselves get soaked).
This is so beautiful!!
Independence Day!!
Ohh, that takes on so many new shades of meaning . . . :)
I seriously had the best 4th of July EVER (well, maybe not EVER . . . it IS my favorite holiday, backed up by many, many glorious memories). But I was laughing at myself for literally grieving over 4th of July before I came to Athens . . . I'm so silly.
So, Emma Skjonsby (the director of Nea Zoi) is originally from Seattle - and the way that she ended up in Athens, and founded Nea Zoi with another woman named Jennifer in her late 20's, is SO encouraging because of how nearly accidental it was. I feel like that resonates with the story of my life . . . I make new 5-year-plans every two weeks (I'm sorry for everyone who knows how true that is and has to go through the process of having to hear all of the new dreams literally every FOURTEEN DAYS!), and then instead of my 5-year-plans EVER working out, I seem to just bump into - or fall into - or trip over - the passions that end up sprouting and TAKING OVER in my life.
Yay for dreaming AND for God's sovereignty - I love Jesus for loving all of my silly 5-year-plans.
Anyway, Emma is now married to a Greek man whose name is pronounced Yohnny, and they have a son named Erik who is about 16 months old - super cute. Emma has coerced Yohnny into having 4th of July parties . . . apparently every year since they've been married. He pretends to hate it (most Greeks don't know that the 4th of July is American Independence Day, obviously -- how many other nations do you celebrate the independence of?). In fact, as we were decorating the flat yesterday (tying all shades of pink, red, teal, blue, white, and cream-colored ribbon all over EVERYTHING), he muttered to me, "My grandfather's balls are shaking IN THE GRAVE that we're celebrating this IN MY HOUSE."
But really, he LOVED it - he is hilarious. I think that Emma, my flat-mate Laurie, and I (along with a girl named Brit for about 1/2 hour) were the only Americans there -- but there were TONS of Greek relatives, lots of Brits from other ministries throughout the city, and mountains of babies. It was loud. And hilarious . . .
Yohnny was wearing his "I Heart NY" t-shirt, which was Emma's first gift to him from the States. Apparently, he's put on a few lbs. since marriage (which every wife wants, right - evidence of good cooking) and the shirt was WAYYYY too tight on him. Then, he turned the music in his flat up so that people three apartment buildings down (literally) could have heard it . . . and then started playing Independence Day Parades on You-Tube. Then, we listened to the Star Spangled Banner, America the Beautiful, Yankee Doodle, and every other American patriotic song that I have AND haven't heard of . . . as well as the Communist theme song (I should know what it's called, but I don't) and then a ton of American grunge music from like 20 years ago.
AND THEN, we ate TONS of American food and lit sparklers . . . and Yohnny went down into the street with a few of his friends and surprised us all (and half of Athens) by lighting off those HUGE fireworks. (The ones that only firemen are allowed to touch in the States.) Where he got them, I have no idea . . . but it was AWESOME!!! And no police came . . . which was even MORE awesome!!
I felt so American riding the metro home last night . . . and so independent. Thank you, Jesus. I love Greeks. :)
I seriously had the best 4th of July EVER (well, maybe not EVER . . . it IS my favorite holiday, backed up by many, many glorious memories). But I was laughing at myself for literally grieving over 4th of July before I came to Athens . . . I'm so silly.
So, Emma Skjonsby (the director of Nea Zoi) is originally from Seattle - and the way that she ended up in Athens, and founded Nea Zoi with another woman named Jennifer in her late 20's, is SO encouraging because of how nearly accidental it was. I feel like that resonates with the story of my life . . . I make new 5-year-plans every two weeks (I'm sorry for everyone who knows how true that is and has to go through the process of having to hear all of the new dreams literally every FOURTEEN DAYS!), and then instead of my 5-year-plans EVER working out, I seem to just bump into - or fall into - or trip over - the passions that end up sprouting and TAKING OVER in my life.
Yay for dreaming AND for God's sovereignty - I love Jesus for loving all of my silly 5-year-plans.
Anyway, Emma is now married to a Greek man whose name is pronounced Yohnny, and they have a son named Erik who is about 16 months old - super cute. Emma has coerced Yohnny into having 4th of July parties . . . apparently every year since they've been married. He pretends to hate it (most Greeks don't know that the 4th of July is American Independence Day, obviously -- how many other nations do you celebrate the independence of?). In fact, as we were decorating the flat yesterday (tying all shades of pink, red, teal, blue, white, and cream-colored ribbon all over EVERYTHING), he muttered to me, "My grandfather's balls are shaking IN THE GRAVE that we're celebrating this IN MY HOUSE."
But really, he LOVED it - he is hilarious. I think that Emma, my flat-mate Laurie, and I (along with a girl named Brit for about 1/2 hour) were the only Americans there -- but there were TONS of Greek relatives, lots of Brits from other ministries throughout the city, and mountains of babies. It was loud. And hilarious . . .
Yohnny was wearing his "I Heart NY" t-shirt, which was Emma's first gift to him from the States. Apparently, he's put on a few lbs. since marriage (which every wife wants, right - evidence of good cooking) and the shirt was WAYYYY too tight on him. Then, he turned the music in his flat up so that people three apartment buildings down (literally) could have heard it . . . and then started playing Independence Day Parades on You-Tube. Then, we listened to the Star Spangled Banner, America the Beautiful, Yankee Doodle, and every other American patriotic song that I have AND haven't heard of . . . as well as the Communist theme song (I should know what it's called, but I don't) and then a ton of American grunge music from like 20 years ago.
AND THEN, we ate TONS of American food and lit sparklers . . . and Yohnny went down into the street with a few of his friends and surprised us all (and half of Athens) by lighting off those HUGE fireworks. (The ones that only firemen are allowed to touch in the States.) Where he got them, I have no idea . . . but it was AWESOME!!! And no police came . . . which was even MORE awesome!!
I felt so American riding the metro home last night . . . and so independent. Thank you, Jesus. I love Greeks. :)
Friday, July 3, 2009
Tomorrow.
I'm going to keep this one brief - but I need to record this for my own sake. (NEVER MIND - THIS ONE IS NOT BRIEF AT ALL.)
I'm so thankful for the adventure of walking with Jesus . . . and not knowing where that leads (except for all of the many moments when I really just knew where I was going). :)
That said, the pragmatic 90% of me came to Athens for two reasons:
1) New Horizons/Nea Zoi - the opportunity to bridge even closer the two organizations, and perhaps bring tools from each to the other.
2) A Pilgrimmage. I only really came to understand that word a few weeks before coming - a good friend of mine was sharing with me the root meaning of the idea of "pilgrammage," which is to go on a journey with some type of question in mind - most often relating to the Lord - and seek Him for that one particular thing. Generally speaking, the question is somehow associated with mission or purpose.
Particularly now - when I'm really less than six months from graduating with my Master's in International Community Development, and have a bit of practical teaching experience, I feel the pull of the nations beating in my heart again. I say 'again' because it's now been 11 0r 12 years since first I felt moved to bring hope to the poor and oppressed - specifically in communities overseas. There are times when that dream has flown and there are times when it has dwindled . . . and now I finally feel like I'm in the 11th hour - like I can almost taste and see it really happening.
But I don't know if I want it anymore.
I had my first Greek language class today . . . and it was wonderful! I forgot how much I love languages . . . and it's interesting to me that for some r99% eason, they don't seem super difficult for me to pick up - perhaps all of those years of Latin, French, and Spanish paid off after all. That love of language makes me almost feel like to not live overseas would be to sell myself short . . .
And spending time with Emma at Nea Zoi, it's easy to see that all of the missionaries here are so burnt out. Too much work - very little pay - in so many ways, at the end of their ropes. And, so many of these people are here because they're 99% relational and only 1% administrative - organization, funding, and decision-making are burdens to them. But, as I acknowledged before, I feel energized by those things. I feel like I would love to learn how to organize and lead an organization like this . . . and I feel like in the States, there's little room for me to learn the things I could jump into here.
I could use my degree. I could empower other people to be the ones who organize and develop their own communities - in Greece, the culture is not ready to serve its own. Nea Zoi tries so hard to attract volunteers from Athens. In a city of 3 million, it's very difficult to attract any faithful volunteers at all. I could grapple with the practical side of all the theory that's been invested in me for community development . . .
I could pursue the crazy adventures I've always dreamed about . . . and rocket myself forward into trusting Jesus wholeheartedly and open-handed.
But then, there's Seattle.
I can see myself staying rooted for years - teaching at an inner-city school, remaining faithful to LNO and the women I work with there, pouring into a church and a community . . . and that idea feels good. I could still move along to the winds of the Spirit . . . pursue adventure, thrive.
And then there's the side of me that feels like that would never take me out of my box - never give me the opportunity to see what could have happened if . . . And I know I can't stay at New Horizons forever, because I'll hit ceiling in the growth that's happening. I could be a teacher at an inner-city school in Seattle for 30 or 40 years . . . but that doesn't sound like my story (not that it's a bad one). I would love to get deeply involved in and serve at an awesome, healthy, growing church in Seattle - and bring people in who don't know Jesus at all. But as I move about the streets in Athens, I'm reminded of how different this place is. I often hear that Seattle is the most unchurched city in the US. In Athens, Greek Orthodoxy is pretty much the only religion. There are very few Christ followers and even fewer Christ following churches. In fact, most of the Christians who are here immigrated from Turkey - which is ridiculous, since there are so few Turkish believers!
And throughout Eastern Europe, the communist regime has left atheism in its wake - creating cultures where people really don't even have a concept of God as we know Him.
I'm afraid of the loneliness that coming overseas means. And I'm afraid of not having a family. I really think those are my biggest fears. It's not the money or the heat, it's not the language or finding a job or meaingful ministry - it's the fear that I'm giving up community. And that I won't be able to belong again, like I do in Seattle . . .
But in the back of my mind, there's something that resonates . . . whoever gives up sisters and brothers, father and mother to follow Me . . .
And I remember another season of my life when I left behind the world I knew to go to another place, because all I really wanted was to follow Jesus and learn the Bible so I could take Him to other people. I was so afraid of loneliness then, too, and I ended up finding a home in Seattle that was far better than anything I had known before. What happened to that brave little girl?
The thing is, I'm done with short-term missions for myself. I don't want to trounce around the world anymore. I would love to go to South America someday . . . but what I really want is for the Lord to speak to me. I want Him to show me where He wants to put me long-term, and then I want to go there and grow there and worship Him.
I can start small . . . 2-5 years, and then back to Seattle. But the scary thing is, even if I only go for that short of time, my community in Seattle would change entirely in that amount of time.
Can I do it, Jesus?
I'm going to Bulgaria a week from today to visit a friend there . . . and there's a teaching job that would be open for me. And there are lots of women in prostitution without any ministries caring for their needs. And here I am in Athens . . . scared and wondering if there's a future for me here . . .
I'm so thankful for the adventure of walking with Jesus . . . and not knowing where that leads (except for all of the many moments when I really just knew where I was going). :)
That said, the pragmatic 90% of me came to Athens for two reasons:
1) New Horizons/Nea Zoi - the opportunity to bridge even closer the two organizations, and perhaps bring tools from each to the other.
2) A Pilgrimmage. I only really came to understand that word a few weeks before coming - a good friend of mine was sharing with me the root meaning of the idea of "pilgrammage," which is to go on a journey with some type of question in mind - most often relating to the Lord - and seek Him for that one particular thing. Generally speaking, the question is somehow associated with mission or purpose.
Particularly now - when I'm really less than six months from graduating with my Master's in International Community Development, and have a bit of practical teaching experience, I feel the pull of the nations beating in my heart again. I say 'again' because it's now been 11 0r 12 years since first I felt moved to bring hope to the poor and oppressed - specifically in communities overseas. There are times when that dream has flown and there are times when it has dwindled . . . and now I finally feel like I'm in the 11th hour - like I can almost taste and see it really happening.
But I don't know if I want it anymore.
I had my first Greek language class today . . . and it was wonderful! I forgot how much I love languages . . . and it's interesting to me that for some r99% eason, they don't seem super difficult for me to pick up - perhaps all of those years of Latin, French, and Spanish paid off after all. That love of language makes me almost feel like to not live overseas would be to sell myself short . . .
And spending time with Emma at Nea Zoi, it's easy to see that all of the missionaries here are so burnt out. Too much work - very little pay - in so many ways, at the end of their ropes. And, so many of these people are here because they're 99% relational and only 1% administrative - organization, funding, and decision-making are burdens to them. But, as I acknowledged before, I feel energized by those things. I feel like I would love to learn how to organize and lead an organization like this . . . and I feel like in the States, there's little room for me to learn the things I could jump into here.
I could use my degree. I could empower other people to be the ones who organize and develop their own communities - in Greece, the culture is not ready to serve its own. Nea Zoi tries so hard to attract volunteers from Athens. In a city of 3 million, it's very difficult to attract any faithful volunteers at all. I could grapple with the practical side of all the theory that's been invested in me for community development . . .
I could pursue the crazy adventures I've always dreamed about . . . and rocket myself forward into trusting Jesus wholeheartedly and open-handed.
But then, there's Seattle.
I can see myself staying rooted for years - teaching at an inner-city school, remaining faithful to LNO and the women I work with there, pouring into a church and a community . . . and that idea feels good. I could still move along to the winds of the Spirit . . . pursue adventure, thrive.
And then there's the side of me that feels like that would never take me out of my box - never give me the opportunity to see what could have happened if . . . And I know I can't stay at New Horizons forever, because I'll hit ceiling in the growth that's happening. I could be a teacher at an inner-city school in Seattle for 30 or 40 years . . . but that doesn't sound like my story (not that it's a bad one). I would love to get deeply involved in and serve at an awesome, healthy, growing church in Seattle - and bring people in who don't know Jesus at all. But as I move about the streets in Athens, I'm reminded of how different this place is. I often hear that Seattle is the most unchurched city in the US. In Athens, Greek Orthodoxy is pretty much the only religion. There are very few Christ followers and even fewer Christ following churches. In fact, most of the Christians who are here immigrated from Turkey - which is ridiculous, since there are so few Turkish believers!
And throughout Eastern Europe, the communist regime has left atheism in its wake - creating cultures where people really don't even have a concept of God as we know Him.
I'm afraid of the loneliness that coming overseas means. And I'm afraid of not having a family. I really think those are my biggest fears. It's not the money or the heat, it's not the language or finding a job or meaingful ministry - it's the fear that I'm giving up community. And that I won't be able to belong again, like I do in Seattle . . .
But in the back of my mind, there's something that resonates . . . whoever gives up sisters and brothers, father and mother to follow Me . . .
And I remember another season of my life when I left behind the world I knew to go to another place, because all I really wanted was to follow Jesus and learn the Bible so I could take Him to other people. I was so afraid of loneliness then, too, and I ended up finding a home in Seattle that was far better than anything I had known before. What happened to that brave little girl?
The thing is, I'm done with short-term missions for myself. I don't want to trounce around the world anymore. I would love to go to South America someday . . . but what I really want is for the Lord to speak to me. I want Him to show me where He wants to put me long-term, and then I want to go there and grow there and worship Him.
I can start small . . . 2-5 years, and then back to Seattle. But the scary thing is, even if I only go for that short of time, my community in Seattle would change entirely in that amount of time.
Can I do it, Jesus?
I'm going to Bulgaria a week from today to visit a friend there . . . and there's a teaching job that would be open for me. And there are lots of women in prostitution without any ministries caring for their needs. And here I am in Athens . . . scared and wondering if there's a future for me here . . .
Victims of their Own Choices . . .
Street outreach last night -- almost bizarre how similar it was in some ways to Seattle. Most of the women working the streets are Nigerian girls trafficked to Athens - some are pretty open about their bondage debt; many continue working even after they've paid off their trafficker & pimp, because they have no reason to return home and no other way of obtaining work.
I'll be honest, being out with them last night made me miss the girls in Seattle SO much! The three biggest differences between street outreach in Seattle and street outreach in Athens:
1) No pimps on the streets in Athens - the girls for the most part work out of hotels, and are monitored by "madams," which are basically the hotel managers, instead of pimps.
2) IT'S WAY HOTTER!! Seriously, even at 1 and 2 am, it's still over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. That's an estimation, but our team was definitely sweating in tank-tops in the middle of the night. Weird.
3) Nigerian cultural barrier -- even though the girls mostly spoke English, it was really difficult to have real conversations with them. Part of that might be because I've known many of the girls in Seattle for longer, but I think a lot of it was because I don't really even know how to carry on a conversation for more than five minutes with a Nigerian whose NOT working in prostitution. Hmm. That was a trick.
Exciting thing, though -- Nea Zoi (the organization I'm working with) just worked out a specific location with the police that they can kind of take ownership of -- like the corner we work at for New Horizons. So, instead of just walking around with a basket and some iced tea, tracking down all the girls in the neighborhood, they're modeling New Horizons and they're going to start letting the girls come to them!! We're just starting it off in the next two weeks, so it'll be interesting. I'm sure that it'll take a while for the girls to become familiar enough to start taking ownership of the place on their own . . . but hopefully, it will be fruitful.
Emma Skjonsby, an American woman from Seattle who founded the organization with another woman named Jennifer, has already taught me quite a lot. Her perspective is invaluable to me. Yesterday (I think - maybe two days ago) we were discussing the plight of the women, and she staunchly believes in their own responsibility in the choices they are making. "Even if they've been trafficked in from another country and are in severe danger," she acknowledged, "These women are not without choice. They could jump out a window - they could refuse and be tortured - I know that sounds cruel, and I'm not trying to be callous, but we must acknowledge that even the most desperate has on some level also taken part in choosing this lifestyle. No matter the circumstances I was under, I would refuse to take part in this act at all cost. And yes, their choices are a result of a darkened understanding of who they are and their intrinsic worth, their inherent rights . . . but still, we cannot see them only as victims."
I find her perspective challenging . . . and also freeing in some ways. And particularly moving because still, after 10 years, she is spending her life serving these women. We don't serve because they're victims - we serve because we believe they can and WILL choose a better life for themselves . . . and we will persevere in walking with them through that process.
Also, I've gotten to spend quite a bit of time this week working "in the office," focusing on the administrative side of an organization like this. Weirdly, I feel really energized by that . . . learning data entry strategies, discussing budget (mainly struggles), assessing the recent end of an employment mentorship program that five girls graduated from. Obviously, most of this has been mostly listening and observing . . . but I've learned a LOT. And I've remembered that even the Type A parts of myself can be sanctified for Kingdom glory (which has often, in times past, seemed doubtful).
And it makes me wonder about my future. Let's be honest . . . what DOESN'T make me wonder about my future . . .
I'll be honest, being out with them last night made me miss the girls in Seattle SO much! The three biggest differences between street outreach in Seattle and street outreach in Athens:
1) No pimps on the streets in Athens - the girls for the most part work out of hotels, and are monitored by "madams," which are basically the hotel managers, instead of pimps.
2) IT'S WAY HOTTER!! Seriously, even at 1 and 2 am, it's still over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. That's an estimation, but our team was definitely sweating in tank-tops in the middle of the night. Weird.
3) Nigerian cultural barrier -- even though the girls mostly spoke English, it was really difficult to have real conversations with them. Part of that might be because I've known many of the girls in Seattle for longer, but I think a lot of it was because I don't really even know how to carry on a conversation for more than five minutes with a Nigerian whose NOT working in prostitution. Hmm. That was a trick.
Exciting thing, though -- Nea Zoi (the organization I'm working with) just worked out a specific location with the police that they can kind of take ownership of -- like the corner we work at for New Horizons. So, instead of just walking around with a basket and some iced tea, tracking down all the girls in the neighborhood, they're modeling New Horizons and they're going to start letting the girls come to them!! We're just starting it off in the next two weeks, so it'll be interesting. I'm sure that it'll take a while for the girls to become familiar enough to start taking ownership of the place on their own . . . but hopefully, it will be fruitful.
Emma Skjonsby, an American woman from Seattle who founded the organization with another woman named Jennifer, has already taught me quite a lot. Her perspective is invaluable to me. Yesterday (I think - maybe two days ago) we were discussing the plight of the women, and she staunchly believes in their own responsibility in the choices they are making. "Even if they've been trafficked in from another country and are in severe danger," she acknowledged, "These women are not without choice. They could jump out a window - they could refuse and be tortured - I know that sounds cruel, and I'm not trying to be callous, but we must acknowledge that even the most desperate has on some level also taken part in choosing this lifestyle. No matter the circumstances I was under, I would refuse to take part in this act at all cost. And yes, their choices are a result of a darkened understanding of who they are and their intrinsic worth, their inherent rights . . . but still, we cannot see them only as victims."
I find her perspective challenging . . . and also freeing in some ways. And particularly moving because still, after 10 years, she is spending her life serving these women. We don't serve because they're victims - we serve because we believe they can and WILL choose a better life for themselves . . . and we will persevere in walking with them through that process.
Also, I've gotten to spend quite a bit of time this week working "in the office," focusing on the administrative side of an organization like this. Weirdly, I feel really energized by that . . . learning data entry strategies, discussing budget (mainly struggles), assessing the recent end of an employment mentorship program that five girls graduated from. Obviously, most of this has been mostly listening and observing . . . but I've learned a LOT. And I've remembered that even the Type A parts of myself can be sanctified for Kingdom glory (which has often, in times past, seemed doubtful).
And it makes me wonder about my future. Let's be honest . . . what DOESN'T make me wonder about my future . . .
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Imago Dei in the Brothels
I spent the morning in the brothels. Part of me wants to write so much about that . . . and part of me feels very silenced. The hard thing about grappling with injustice is that in some ways, to box it in words and pour out sympathy seems in many ways to cheapen the cost that individuals pay daily. It was sobering for me. I think it is offensive to a God whose character is justice to be comfortable with these things - or comfortable forgetting them.
I came home and showered and couldn't wipe away the sting of rage in my spirit. My face tingles with the slap of Injustice that literally strips naked a woman created in the image of God and leaves her isolated in a dark room for 16 hours a day, no one to interact with but her Madam, perhaps her pimp every once in a while, and the spirit of lust manifest in too many faces to count. 15 Euros is the price to rape Imago Dei. How does one swallow that?
This crime is not a sexy fad to watch videos about and discuss in small groups. I feel the weight of responsibility for the knowledge I've been entrusted with . . . and the question is, what's next? I feel advocacy for me is not the answer - so many people know, and the violence continues. Not only continues, it GROWS: through globalization, migration, crime networks, despair.
Kathryn Farr wrote a book called Sex Trafficking: The Global Market in Women and Children. I read it for pieces of the plane ride over and, in my rare free moments, have retreated to my bedroom to glean from her research. According to her studies, the fall of the Soviet Union in '91 paved the way for organized crime networks to thrive under poor governmental structure and loose political organization in the nations of Eastern Europe born in its aftermath. As a result, more women and children are trafficked from these nations - in particular, Romania, Bulgaria, Ukraine, Moldova, and others . . . than anywhere else in the world, except perhaps Thailand (though numbers are fluid in underground networks).
I met some of these women this morning. I was with an American from Michigan whose been living in Europe for about 12 years now - she speaks Armenian fluently and a great deal of Greek. I ached for language!! But one of the Romanian girls spoke some English . . .
And I missed the women we work with - and my team - in Seattle. Neither is worth more or more important; the experiences are different, but the lies they deal with and the spiritual realities they face are very much the same. My frustration is that it seems that organizations are popping up internationally to serve these women - but what is impacting the other end of the system? Where does systemic change happen to break the chains of injustice? As that old fable goes, if we're pulling thousands of drowning babies out of a river one by one, whose going upstream to stop the one casting babies in a river? (That sounds so corny, but I think it's a good analogy regardless.)
I trust the God who promised that His Kingdom is coming to reign on earth - and I recognize that it will not be fully manifest until Jesus returns in power. I long for that day - and I will fight for it.
"Who will rise up for me against the wicked?
Who will take a stand for me against evildoers?
Unless the LORD had given me help,
I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death.
When I said, 'My foot is slipping,'
Your love, o LORD, supported me.
When anxiety was great within me,
Your consolation brought joy to my soul.
Can a corrupt throne be allied with You --
One that brings on misery by its decrees?
They band together against the righteous
And condemn the innocent to death.
But the LORD has become my fortress
And my God the rock in whom I take refuge.
He will repay them for their sins
And destroy them for their wickedness;
the LORD our God will destroy them" (Psalm 94:16-23).
That's challenging. In some ways, I find comfort in that. In other ways, I find it very uncomfortable. Thank You for the tension Your Word creates in me, Jesus - bring light to my eyes, that I might understand Your character and Your JUSTICE better. I love You - You are good and full of mercy. Amen.
I came home and showered and couldn't wipe away the sting of rage in my spirit. My face tingles with the slap of Injustice that literally strips naked a woman created in the image of God and leaves her isolated in a dark room for 16 hours a day, no one to interact with but her Madam, perhaps her pimp every once in a while, and the spirit of lust manifest in too many faces to count. 15 Euros is the price to rape Imago Dei. How does one swallow that?
This crime is not a sexy fad to watch videos about and discuss in small groups. I feel the weight of responsibility for the knowledge I've been entrusted with . . . and the question is, what's next? I feel advocacy for me is not the answer - so many people know, and the violence continues. Not only continues, it GROWS: through globalization, migration, crime networks, despair.
Kathryn Farr wrote a book called Sex Trafficking: The Global Market in Women and Children. I read it for pieces of the plane ride over and, in my rare free moments, have retreated to my bedroom to glean from her research. According to her studies, the fall of the Soviet Union in '91 paved the way for organized crime networks to thrive under poor governmental structure and loose political organization in the nations of Eastern Europe born in its aftermath. As a result, more women and children are trafficked from these nations - in particular, Romania, Bulgaria, Ukraine, Moldova, and others . . . than anywhere else in the world, except perhaps Thailand (though numbers are fluid in underground networks).
I met some of these women this morning. I was with an American from Michigan whose been living in Europe for about 12 years now - she speaks Armenian fluently and a great deal of Greek. I ached for language!! But one of the Romanian girls spoke some English . . .
And I missed the women we work with - and my team - in Seattle. Neither is worth more or more important; the experiences are different, but the lies they deal with and the spiritual realities they face are very much the same. My frustration is that it seems that organizations are popping up internationally to serve these women - but what is impacting the other end of the system? Where does systemic change happen to break the chains of injustice? As that old fable goes, if we're pulling thousands of drowning babies out of a river one by one, whose going upstream to stop the one casting babies in a river? (That sounds so corny, but I think it's a good analogy regardless.)
I trust the God who promised that His Kingdom is coming to reign on earth - and I recognize that it will not be fully manifest until Jesus returns in power. I long for that day - and I will fight for it.
"Who will rise up for me against the wicked?
Who will take a stand for me against evildoers?
Unless the LORD had given me help,
I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death.
When I said, 'My foot is slipping,'
Your love, o LORD, supported me.
When anxiety was great within me,
Your consolation brought joy to my soul.
Can a corrupt throne be allied with You --
One that brings on misery by its decrees?
They band together against the righteous
And condemn the innocent to death.
But the LORD has become my fortress
And my God the rock in whom I take refuge.
He will repay them for their sins
And destroy them for their wickedness;
the LORD our God will destroy them" (Psalm 94:16-23).
That's challenging. In some ways, I find comfort in that. In other ways, I find it very uncomfortable. Thank You for the tension Your Word creates in me, Jesus - bring light to my eyes, that I might understand Your character and Your JUSTICE better. I love You - You are good and full of mercy. Amen.
Wandering the City . . .
It's 7:30pm in Athens - and still so hot. Similar to many Latino cultures, the Athenians recognize a siesta in the middle of the day . . . most shops close open around 9am and close around 2pm - some open for a few hours again from 5pm - 8 ish-pm. Then, the streets come alive. People are out and about, strolling, eating, laughing in the city until 1 or 2 am. We have to be extra careful in our apartment to be quiet during the middle of the day, as most people come home from work to rest - escaping the heat of the day. It's not humid at all, but the heat is severe. Bodies packed into the breezeless metro (which feels like a sauna despite running underground) . . . standing in public squares with the sun beating down between slabs of concrete . . . walking down tight streets . . . I feel sticky and wish I hadn't decided to grow out my hair. I may chop it just for fun (and my personal sanity).
My days have been pretty full as my flat-mate Laurie and I learn to maneuveur our way around the winding streets (and crazy traffic) of down-town Athens (not without help from Nea-Zoi staff). Sheila was right - lots of walking here. I could get used to traveling exclusively by foot and metro - in fact, it's one of my favorite things about the city. From where I live, there are few things more than a 40 minute walk . . . and even fewer that are outside the reach of the metro that was redesigned for the Olympics a few years ago. Love it!!
As I think I mentioned earlier, our flat is only two blocks away from the Acropolis - the Pantheon - the Temple of Zeus - a whole mess of ruins and a new museum (that only costs 1 Euro - less than 2 dollars) with tons of history on it all! We actually haven't had much time at all to go exploring yet as we've been pretty busy with orientation, outreach, meetings, etc., but we're hoping to have some time this weekend. Gloriously, Emma (the director of Nea Zoi who is also from Seattle) is having a 4th of July party at her house this Saturday - so my heart is not quite as broken about missing my FAVORITE holiday. Still, I won't get to see the fireworks (so Alex, remember to buy extra so we can shoot them off on MLK, Jr. Day. Fireworks + rain = great Seattle advall enture.) We have explored a bit around our neighborhood, though - and walked around the Acropolis last night on this beautiful cobble-stone pedestrian street surrounded by all manner of musicians, mymes (is that how you spell that), and other entertainers . . . as well as fresh bread and fruit markets. It was quite the romantic image of Athens as commonly publicized in the US. But most of the city feels nothing like that . . .
The city is close-quartered and tight - almost everyone lives in apartment buildings stacked high and tight together, reaching to brave heights before the blazing sun. People are everywhere here - I've heard from a few sources that of the 6 million people living in Greece, 3 million live in Athens. This city feels BIG . . . and ironically reminds me more of Kathmandu than of Seattle, though really it's a world on its own far different than either. Street vendors everywhere - graffiti and garbage littering the cement (Strangely, the garbage truck visited our street at about 11pm last night. We thought there was a fire with the bright, spinning lights and unfamiliar beeping. We were relieved (and confused) to see him methodically lifting the huge trash bins and dumping them. No garbage cans - neighborhoods share large bins.) - I've heard Athens described as "a concrete jungle" by many people already. As in many cities throughout the world, I think there are just many sides to it . . . not all is glory and not all is poor.
A new government was recently elected, which has caused a bit of . . . unrest in the city. Because so much of Greece is surrounded by water, Athens draws in immigrants and refugees from countries all over - particularly various nations in North Africa as well as border countries like Albania. Most of them obviously don't have correct paperwork, but survive pretty well dishwashing at restaurants and doing other odd jobs - many of them live in camps along the coast. Lately, the new gov't has been doing sweeps through Athens to get rid of them - and is deporting them by shiploads. Obviously, there is controversy over this issue . . . and it's also definitely causing shifts in populations of immigrants and drug-users throughout the city (which also gives rise to other problems). There's so much more that I could write about that . . . but on to Nea Zoi . . .
My days have been pretty full as my flat-mate Laurie and I learn to maneuveur our way around the winding streets (and crazy traffic) of down-town Athens (not without help from Nea-Zoi staff). Sheila was right - lots of walking here. I could get used to traveling exclusively by foot and metro - in fact, it's one of my favorite things about the city. From where I live, there are few things more than a 40 minute walk . . . and even fewer that are outside the reach of the metro that was redesigned for the Olympics a few years ago. Love it!!
As I think I mentioned earlier, our flat is only two blocks away from the Acropolis - the Pantheon - the Temple of Zeus - a whole mess of ruins and a new museum (that only costs 1 Euro - less than 2 dollars) with tons of history on it all! We actually haven't had much time at all to go exploring yet as we've been pretty busy with orientation, outreach, meetings, etc., but we're hoping to have some time this weekend. Gloriously, Emma (the director of Nea Zoi who is also from Seattle) is having a 4th of July party at her house this Saturday - so my heart is not quite as broken about missing my FAVORITE holiday. Still, I won't get to see the fireworks (so Alex, remember to buy extra so we can shoot them off on MLK, Jr. Day. Fireworks + rain = great Seattle advall enture.) We have explored a bit around our neighborhood, though - and walked around the Acropolis last night on this beautiful cobble-stone pedestrian street surrounded by all manner of musicians, mymes (is that how you spell that), and other entertainers . . . as well as fresh bread and fruit markets. It was quite the romantic image of Athens as commonly publicized in the US. But most of the city feels nothing like that . . .
The city is close-quartered and tight - almost everyone lives in apartment buildings stacked high and tight together, reaching to brave heights before the blazing sun. People are everywhere here - I've heard from a few sources that of the 6 million people living in Greece, 3 million live in Athens. This city feels BIG . . . and ironically reminds me more of Kathmandu than of Seattle, though really it's a world on its own far different than either. Street vendors everywhere - graffiti and garbage littering the cement (Strangely, the garbage truck visited our street at about 11pm last night. We thought there was a fire with the bright, spinning lights and unfamiliar beeping. We were relieved (and confused) to see him methodically lifting the huge trash bins and dumping them. No garbage cans - neighborhoods share large bins.) - I've heard Athens described as "a concrete jungle" by many people already. As in many cities throughout the world, I think there are just many sides to it . . . not all is glory and not all is poor.
A new government was recently elected, which has caused a bit of . . . unrest in the city. Because so much of Greece is surrounded by water, Athens draws in immigrants and refugees from countries all over - particularly various nations in North Africa as well as border countries like Albania. Most of them obviously don't have correct paperwork, but survive pretty well dishwashing at restaurants and doing other odd jobs - many of them live in camps along the coast. Lately, the new gov't has been doing sweeps through Athens to get rid of them - and is deporting them by shiploads. Obviously, there is controversy over this issue . . . and it's also definitely causing shifts in populations of immigrants and drug-users throughout the city (which also gives rise to other problems). There's so much more that I could write about that . . . but on to Nea Zoi . . .
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