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 . . .
Sunday, July 5, 2009
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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