As I suspected, I got a text message from Rick yesterday and there are problems with getting an Internet connection. There’s always problems with the Internet connection, and it is maddening. Since I know their routine let me try and fill in some of the gaps for us.
Yesterday was Day 3 of their first Basic Seminar. By this day the kids have really latched onto us and are much more willing to give or get a hug, and they laugh and cut up more with us. Day 1 is always stoic. By Day 3, though, it’s bedlam. I’ve always been amazed at how deeply affected and connected we are to each other in only three short days. I count it as a blessing from God.
One of the last things we do on Day 3 is have what’s called a “Closing Circle.” It’s tradition, and essentially we circle up the chairs and sit with the kids and everyone takes as much time as they need or want to give us feedback on the Seminar. We always couch it in terms of, “Tell us what you liked, what you didn’t like, what could be improved, you know, that sort of thing.” That’s what we ask for, but always – and I mean always – what we get is that and more. The “more” is they look you straight in the eye, and with smiles or tears or smiles and tears they tell you how much the Seminar has meant to them, and how grateful they are you’ve come to do this for them, some tell you this has changed their life, and all gush with happiness and raw emotion to know they now have a true friend who cares deeply about them. It is always a tear-jerker for us. Always. I’ve cried, John’s cried, David’s cried, Rick’s cried, the women always cry. I’ll be very interested to talk to Elena Taylor to get her reaction to her first Closing Circle. Anyway, after Closing Circle there are pictures, there are hugs, there is laughter, and there is joy to know they’ll be having a party at our flat in the evening.
The party always starts at 6:30pm, and at 6:30pm on the dot (and I do mean, on the dot – you can bank on it) the doorbell rings and Они приезжали! (Horray! They have arrived!). This goes on for hours as they come and go, and we have the best time doing absolutely nothing more than drinking hot tea, or cokes, and eating gobs of artery-clogging candy and popcorn. There is no TV. There is no Wii. Sometimes the only music is when Dmitry or Paul bring their guitars and play for us, which can really liven the place up if that happens. No, the entertainment is nothing more or less than hearts entwined to love and laugh while we just talk the night away. That’s it. We just talk. We talk for hours. Sometimes the conversations are light-hearted and there is much joking and laughter. Sometimes the conversations are one-on-one and they’re deep, very deep, and can be about anything from trouble at home, to trouble with university studies, to trouble with understanding all things about life. Regardless, we are there for them and for as long as they need us.
The kids usually start thinning out about 10pm and when the last one leaves we all stand there staring at each other and we’re all thinking the same thing which is God knows we love them and it’s good to be here for them. The place, our flat, then becomes uncomfortably quiet.
As I type these words it is Thursday morning in Dallas about 7:30am, but it’s 3:30pm in Volgograd. In about four hours John, Rick, Elena, Natasha, Tom, and Margaret will meet with the church for Bible study. They’ll meet around 7′ish their time (about lunchtime here).
Imagine walking upstairs (the upper room!) and through a door to a flat to be greeted by one of the sweetest Russian women you’d ever meet as she tells you with Russian words and hand gestures to take your shoes off, slip into some comfy house shoes, and come in and sit down. That would be Julia talking to you. You would do as you’re told and follow her into the living room and sit down, just as you’re told. Then you’d listen as the room comes alive with beautiful, beautiful singing of Christian songs in Russian. Sure, you’d be singing in English, but the benefit (in my opinion) is to just sit back and listen to these beautiful people sing in Russian. It is always encouraging to me to hear God praised in a language other than my own. There’s a certain level of comfort for me to know I’m not the only one who believes. After singing many songs – they love to sing! – there is a short study from selected scripture usually given by either Paul or John. Aren’t those names appropriate? Anyway, after the message there is more singing. Then hot tea and snacks are served and there is much talking in Russian, talking in English, and lots of laughing and smiling and we have the best time!
After Bible study is over, John and Rick will walk back to their flat in the cool of the evening. I got an email from John on Tuesday saying the forecast was for snow yesterday, so their walk may be a bit cooler than usual. Elena and Natasha will most likely take the trolley bus home. Tom and Margaret are already home because the flat they’re staying in is the same flat as where the Bible study takes place.
In some ways our community has become larger but in other ways I could also argue our community has become smaller. We have more friends, more brothers and sisters in Christ, and because of that we have more opportunities to expand ministry, thus our community becomes larger. But our community becomes a bit smaller too because in a matter of hours we can be half-way around the world, and the means to communicate with these same friends and brothers and sisters in Christ is instantaneous. What used to take days or weeks can now be done in email or even a text message. And Skype!
What we do in Volgograd is not work. I’ve heard some people call it work, and I’ve even a time or two and called it work, but it’s not work. Work is, or can be, drudgery. Work is something I do in exchange for a paycheck. No, what we do in Volgograd is, to be sure, ministry. We minister to people when we’re in Volgograd. Really, we minister to people in Moscow as well as we have dear friends in that city who help us navigate our way through the city and airports. Without them we’d be lost.
We minister to people in Russia. Whether we are buying someone dinner, or a cup of coffee, or making a donation to make repairs to someone’s house, or buying medicine for someone in need, we are doing what God calls us to do. And make no mistake about it, God has called us to do exactly that. And it doesn’t stop when we leave Volgograd. When we come back home we are inundated with emails from friends old, friends new, even people we never met but who want to be friends. We minister in email with advice, encouragement, and relationship.
Without the encouragement and support of Riverside this ministry would not be the success that it is. I can’t say it would cease to exist, but Riverside’s support is critical, absolutely critical. So on behalf of the team currently in Volgograd, I thank each of you for sending me emails asking about them, I thank you for stopping me in the hallway at church wanting to know “What’s going on in Volgograd?”, I thank you for constantly and continually praying for the team, and I thank you for the financial support even in these weird financial times we are living in/through at the moment. Please keep doing what you’re doing.
Mike Odle
