I am watching the Romanian countryside pass me by as dusk sets the foothills and fields ablaze with hues of rose and amber. I feel as if I am saying farewell to a dear, old friend, and I cannot help but feel as if I am running out of time as the fading light quickly dulls my view of this land which has become so cherished to me. Has this month already come to an end? It feels as if only a moment has passed since my arrival, and yet I have gained a lifetime of friendships and memories in the short expanse of a month. 

 

I am currently making my way to Ukraine on a 29 passenger bus with my fellow squad mates. I’ve been told the bus ride will take 22 hours until my team reaches our final destination of Kiev, Ukraine. So, I’m settling in my seat, trying to maintain focus amidst the rustling of snacks and techno music pulsing through the speakers. I tried to write a blog about change during debrief this past week, and I was near to finished when my computer crashed and restarted (to the demise of my blog). That blog will hopefully also be composed during this 22 hour venture, but at the moment, my head and my heart are filled with memories of Romania, so that is what I shall share with you. 

 

I longed to visit Romania before I’d ever heard of the race. I don’t know why, but a friend and I talked about taking a riding holiday upon Andalusians and Lippizanners from one fortified church to another. Something about the mystery in the stories and history of Romania captured my imagination, even though I didn’t know much at all about it. When I first applied for the race, Romania’s presence on my original route was one of the main reasons I applied for that one specifically. I was crushed when I was informed that the route had filled, but soon found out that Romania was the only country that remained the same on the second route available, so I decided to still apply. I felt as if the Lord was still gifting me the chance to visit this country I knew next to nothing about, though a steady passion burned for it in my heart. I couldn’t tell you why exactly I wanted to come here; I just knew it’s what I wanted. It wasn’t until I arrived that the Lord confirmed why He’d given me that passion for Romania. 

 

I have to admit, that confirmation wasn’t immediate upon my arrival. Three of the five teams were placed up north on a farm in Oradea to build homes for a mission there. I was jealous of them. They got to be on a beautiful dairy farm, they got to sleep in really nice accommodations, they were near Hungary (I’d been planning to take a trip to the mother country before I started the race)… they got to ride on a train! This was my self-centered thought process the first day I was here. The Holy Spirit didn’t allow me to rest in such selfish pursuits, in this ugly state of comparison. He desired a different mindset for me, one that was my intention of coming on the race. He asked me, “My love, when was Hungary ever listed on your route? Did you not desire to give up comforts for the sake of loving others? Did you not agree to relinquish the things you thought you were entitled to for the sake of serving others? Trust me, and I will teach you that my desires for you are better than your own.”

 

How could I argue with this? I gave up my rights on this mission. It is hopefully a trend that will continue beyond the race, but I didn’t NEED any of those things. I don’t need a hot shower. I don’t need a bed in which to sleep. I don’t need to be in a beautiful pastoral setting. I don’t need internet access or constant communication with my family. Yes, all of these things are privileges and blessings, and please don’t mistake me, they’re not bad things, but a sense of entitlement to them is not healthy. For a moment, I had begun to focus on the comforts that would fulfill me, rather than my purpose on this earth; to love others and proclaim the name of Jesus Christ and His never ending, unfathomable love for us.

 

So, the Lord placed me and my new team in Pitesti (pronounced Pi·tesht), Arges, Romania with a church called Living Hope. Pitesti is near the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, but rather flat and bleak due to the grey, communist era, block apartments that loomed throughout the city. We met with Cristi, the pastor of the church for coffee and he shared a little of what we would be doing for the month.

There is a community called Razboieni (Raz·boy·en) which is one of the poorest communities in Pitesti. Therein resides a mixture of Romanians and Gypsies. As you can imagine, I perked up at the mention of ministering to gypsies. Ever since I was a little girl, I was fascinated with the very idea of a gypsy, albeit the glamourised Hollywood version of a gypsy.



Regardless, they were a people whose history was vaguely familiar to me, so I at least knew they were greatly disliked and set against by the Romanian people. They are “the other,” the lesser in Romanian society, and gypsy children generally conform to those expectations, rarely dreaming beyond the circumstances which bind them. Like many cultures, they become enslaved to their stereotype. This month, we were to reach through their bleak outlook and show them the hope they could have through a relationship with Christ. 

 

The First day we went to Razboieni to advertise and let the children know we would be teaching music and English classes for a week while they were off from school for Easter holiday. I went around the neighborhood to pass out flyers with Cristi and two of his precious children, and during this simple walk, I witnessed how strongly the love and compassion of Christ is lived out in Cristi’s life. I was amazed as we walked at how children ran to him when they saw him, throwing their arms around him in an embrace and clinging to him as we went on. I felt as if I was walking with the Pied Piper as we collected more and more children. They came on roller blades, stopped playing to join us, and some ceased rifling through the trash to fall in behind him. This was to set the tone for the rest of our month in Romania.

 

I have never been embraced by a church family in the way that my brothers and sisters at Living Hope welcomed me in with open arms. Before I came on the race, I had heard of community being lived out as it was meant to be by Christians. I think I am gaining a glimpse of community on the race, but we’re only together for eleven months; the family at Living Hope is always living in community. They eat together, they work together, they live near one another, they play together, they do ministry together, they mourn together, and they worship together. They were transparent with us from the beginning, and never tried to hide that life was rough and community could be messy. Whenever they revealed their brokenness, they glorified God with a heart of thankfulness, and allowed His strength to uphold them through their weakness. 

 

I was there for the month with my new team, Majestic Summit, and another team, Heart Refinery. Our teams quickly became part of the family. Not only did we teach a small camp at Razboieni, but we also passed out lunch to the children, played football with them, hosted concerts and ping-pong tournaments, helped move bricks to build a home, visited a communist re-education center, had a picnic and football game with some street kids Cristi has been loving for several years, and had youth nights with lots of music and dramas. On top of that was a lot of fellowship. I gained several steadfast brothers and sisters in my time in Pitesti, relationships that I hope will only grow in my absence. 

 

I also fell in love with the children of Razboieni. They were slightly guarded at first, and rightly so. They come from backgrounds of poverty, abuse, and oppression and their trust had to be earned. The simple idea of a father who loved them was difficult for them to understand. During one of our English sessions, I asked the girls at my table what the word “father” meant to them. One of their fathers had died, another had run away with another woman and started a new family, another father was sexually abusive, and the last just wasn’t present in her life. I was broken that their precious hearts had not been better fought for by their earthly fathers, but so full of joy to tell them that their Heavenly Father cherished them above any thing else, and that He would love them unconditionally. At the end of the month the children had grown so attached to us that on the day we departed, they barred the gate to the school yard and chanted in English, “Don’t Leave” over and over again until it slurred into something unintelligible. 

 

My hope is to one day return to Romania to see my family at Living Hope and the children in Razboieni once again. When we first arrived in Pitesti we cleared a field behind the church of weeds and rocks and planted grass seed to create a place for a park.



At the end of our month the field was verdant from the seeds we had planted. If the Lord allows me to return to those beautiful people in the near future, I only hope He will gift me the ability to see growth from some of the seeds that were planted this past month, and allow me the opportunity to continue sowing more. 

 

To my beautiful brothers and sisters (and Mama G) at Living Hope: Thank you for all of your love, kindness, and friendship. I hope to see you again soon!

When I was in Central America, I purchased a bracelet and had the word “Cambio” (Spanish for change) inscribed upon it. I was challenged to write a word that encompassed what the Lord was teaching me during the time I was there. If you asked me exactly what change was taking place, I could not have articulated it other than my gradual spiritual growth, or the physical transition that was expected at the end of every month when we packed up our packs and moved to a new country. 

 

I’ve never been one to embrace change. In fact, I’ve done everything to resist it on occasion. I have been praying for growth through change since I’ve begun this mission, for growth itself is change, and as it was so eloquently stated at debrief, I came on the race because on some level, even subconsciously, I desired transformation of self. In Central America though, there wasn’t any change which “rocked my boat.” In hindsight, I believe the word written on my arm was prophetic for such a time as this, and the Holy Spirit was encouraging my heart for what was to come.

 

This past week I have been barraged with changes and transitions that would have left me shaken at the least in previous years. 
 

Firstly, my transition out of Romania was the most difficult yet on the race. Romania captured my heart. I felt a familial love there from my brothers and sisters in Pitesti that left me longing to remain and desiring to return. I knew I had the buffer of debrief (a time to reflect on the past two months and gain insight through teaching and fellowship as a squad) to mourn the departure of the relationships that had been established there, but I also knew that another loss awaited me at the end of debrief. 


 

The race doesn’t just send us out to the field without guidance and experienced leadership. They appoint squad leaders to accompany us for four months on the field. These are individuals who have already completed their own race, and are lead to return and shepherd new racers at the beginning of their journey. Our three squad leaders, Mac, Caitlin, and Hope were nothing less than amazing. Each of them poured copious amounts of wisdom and life into me, but Hope quickly became a kindred spirit and a beautiful sister whom I shall always cherish. The end of this debrief was our alumni squad leaders transition out of leadership, meaning I had to say goodbye to Hope until they all see us again at our month eight debrief. 


Hope, Mac, and Caitlin.



Me and Hope.
 

I was able to emotionally prepare to say farewell to her as I knew the day was approaching since the beginning of the race. However, there was a good bye I had to confront at debrief that was in every way unexpected. One of the women I’ve grown closest to during the race had to go home to have emergency surgery on her hand after she smashed it while we were in Honduras. I found out during debrief that she would not be returning to the field with our squad. 


(Photo by Robin Quinn Brooks: Hayden and me)
 

I was incredibly sad to say “see you later” to all of these relationships because, yes, I am selfish and I appreciate having them all in my life, but I am also at peace amidst the tempest of change swelling around me. Perhaps it is because the Lord’s was preparing me for this week three months in advance. Or perhaps it is because He’s taught me that I cannot have desired growth without change, in fact, it’s impossible! But I think the main reason is even deeper than my growth in accepting change.

 

Christ has been calling me into deeper intimacy with His Spirit. Not that I was far out of relationship and now I am closer, but that He’s giving me more insight and understanding as to the constancy of His character. One of my favourite teachers once taught about how unchangeable God is, and that promise is something in which I have found immense peace and strength when I face trials of uncomfortable change. Hebrews 6:17-19 says, “So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the UNCHANGEABLE character of his purpose, He guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two UNCHANGEABLE things, in which is it impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a SURE and STEADFAST ANCHOR of the soul…”

 

The promises of God’s unchangeable nature or His steadfast faithfulness do not end there. He declares over my life time and time again that He has never left me, nor never will forsake me, His beloved daughter. Because of this promise, I am finding that I’m no longer fleeing for refuge when things which are comfortable and familiar to me are taken away here on earth. The ONLY thing that I need to remain constant in my life is Christ, and there is no question that He is anchoring me and preserving me in peace during the storms I am weathering. When I fix my gaze upon Him instead of my present circumstances, all I find is that the waves of uncertainty subside, and the fierce winds of change cease in light of His glorious presence. 

My hope in Christ is the only steady rock upon which I stand. 

I looked down at my dirty feet, happy with their condition. There’s something about dust covered sandals and toes that makes me feel as if I’ve been somewhere, as if I’ve accomplished something. When I had a garden to work in, the first thing I would do is remove my shoes and allow my bare feet sink into the soil. A sense of achievement was reached even before I touched a shovel. Today, we were going from one shack to another in one of the poorest communities I have seen. We prayed for people, brought them essential food supplies, and invited them to a church service to be had later. A woman from the village approached Sara, our contact, to tell her that there was an old woman nearby whose son was very sick and would appreciate our prayer. We passed chickens, pigs, and stray dogs as we made our way to her home. The dust swirled around my ankles with every step I made as the parched ground cried out for rain. 


 

I stepped over makeshift ramps and through the doorway and immediately looked into a woman’s sorrowful eyes. Without understanding what was happening, my eyes followed to where her gaze had landed; upon her son’s lifeless body which lay draped in white. I’d never seen a dead body before that hadn’t been dressed for a funeral. My heart jumped and I felt a little dizzy. I turned back to his mother and moved to comfort her, though I didn’t have much time to think. A man from our group, Hugh, asked everyone if they wanted to pray to raise the man from the dead, and I don’t think any of us hesitated to move to prayer. After all, that’s our purpose here, right;  to move in complete faith in praying for the sick to be heal, the dead to be raised, and those living in darkness to find the light of Christ, so that He may be glorified through it all. 
 

We moved toward the bed, and I felt a lump rise in my throat. I looked at the fly-ridden, lace cloth covering his face and had to breathe in deeply to steady my hand. I looked at his form, bereft of the life he had only an hour before we arrived. I began to pray with my eyes closed tightly, and I fully believed the Lord could raise this man from the dead. I believed it so much that I could see the imagery of it happening so vividly in my mind. I opened my eyes and jumped because I thought I saw him move and expected him to sit up in bed. He only moved because someone praying over him had jostled the bed. I prayed a moment more, and then backed away. The Lord would not choose to be praised through the raising of this man.


 

The mother never left my heart, and I glanced over as she was swooning and two women carried her to the hammock. She hadn’t eaten for two days as her son was dying. She had such a frail frame, and laid there weakly keening as someone brought her water and another fanned her with a cloth. I made my way behind her to rub her back as she sat in the hammock. Her thin shoulders bore the burden of a life that had weighed heavily upon them. More people were beginning to fill the house, and three men appearing to be medical professionals arrived with a hearse. One of the men coldly and callously began discussing with her how she expected to bury her son since she didn’t have any money. I had taken over the fanning at this point, and looked on with amazement as I found out that the man who was speaking so unfeelingly to this woman was, in fact, her other son. How could he lack the ability to comfort his elderly mother in her time of distress? Why wasn’t he helping her with funeral costs? These questions began to fill my mind as our contact told us we needed to remove ourselves from the house. 
 

I asked the woman if we could pray for her before we left and she graciously agreed. As the few of us remaining finished praying, she began to pray. Her face softened as she asked if she could sing us a song before we departed. From her lips came a song so sweet and so full of joy, hope, and peace. She praised Jesus for dying on the cross. She praised the Holy Spirit for coming to give her comfort. She sang this song in a state of absolute poverty with her dead son lying less than two feet away, and when she finished, she told us how thankful she was for the time Jesus gave her with her son. I was so completely humbled by her grace and her faith that Christ was sovereign even in this moment of loss. This is where He was to be glorified; through the unquestioning faith of a grieving mother.
 

As I walked from the tiny dwelling, I passed something that made me stop in my tracks and go back so I could process it. Her home had dirt floors, no running water, barely any food, mud and tin walls, and a roof with holes in it. Yet, what I’d been drawn back to was a set of beautiful, white rose bushes with verdant leaves, their perfect buds blooming, full of life. In the midst of this desert place there was an abundance of life bursting forth! There was richness present despite the dearth of its surroundings. This woman we encountered was so much like these rosebuds, full of life and grace. Though she was surrounded by death and desolation, her heart was a heart that could see the truth of Christ, His goodness, and one that could praise Him for the blessings He had afforded her despite her present circumstances. 


 

I didn’t see a man raised from the dead, but that wasn’t the reason I prayed for it, nor am I discouraged that it didn’t happen. I’m not here to see signs and wonders so my faith will be increased, or so that He can prove His existence. I am on this race so that Christ may be glorified through me. What an amazing privilege I have to be used in such a way. The creator of the universe certainly doesn’t need to use me to bring glory to Himself. He is mighty and powerful enough to do that despite my actions, but… He wants to use me. I cannot help but smile when I think about how awesome that is. All I need to do is continue to go forth in absolute faith that He can even defy the laws of nature to proclaim His greatness. He was the I AM before those laws even existed, so why wouldn’t He?


"Listen, my beloved brothers, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him?" James 2:5