Tag Archives: transportation

The Poster Child for Communism

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The missionaries I came to meet with, Ted and Carol, picked me up at Budapest airport and drove me to their home about an hour and a half away.  They live in a former mining town in Hungary.  Their town’s people were the “poster children” for Communism because the workers were miners.  Miners have big muscles, so they were celebrated in pictures and sculpture shirtlessly embodying the Communist ideal.  The Communist dictators treated them very well because they were the poster children.  So the town’s infrastructure was far better than most of the rest of Hungary.

This is the pretty town square viewed from T & C's window

This is the pretty town square viewed from T & C’s window

When Communism collapsed, there was joy all over Hungary—except for this town.  They had lost their celebrity status and all the perks that come with it: the finest housing, cars, the best food, good schools for their children, etc.  For them freedom meant learning how to scrape their resources together, working at whatever jobs they could find when the mine closed.  Many in this town are nostalgic about the “good old days of Communism.”

Having arrived Saturday night, I had missed the gypsy Bible study (see Six Hours Late).  But I did get to hear Ted preach.  Over breakfast this morning I had mentioned the paralytic at the pool of Bethesda (John 5:1-6) in conversation about how God is moving among the Italian Catholics (see Touching the Hem of His Garment).  Ted said, “Guess what scripture I’m preaching about!”  Yup!  John 5:1-6.  His sermon was really good, teaching me something new that I had never considered before.

Jesus had approached the paralytic and no one else.  Why?  Perhaps because everyone else had someone there to help them into the waters when they rippled.  Ted said that it was strange that this man was alone.  Jesus asked him a strange question, one I had always wondered about: “Do you want to be healed?”  Of course He knew the answer, but it gave the man the opportunity to reveal something about his own character.  He complained that there was no one to help him into the water.  And even when he had been healed, he “blamed” Jesus because He had told the man to carry his bed home—in other words, to work on the Sabbath.  And after he saw Jesus again, he ran to the authorities and told them that it was Jesus.  Not one word of gratitude for his miraculous and life-changing healing.  This guy had some definite character issues, which is something I had never really thought about before.

After church we walked around town a bit, returned home, and prayed together.  Ted and Carol mostly work with gypsies, doing CHE, Community Health Evangelism.  The CHE concept is great.  It involves health, but not only the health of the body, but of the whole person: body, soul (mental/emotional), and spirit.  I love the holistic approach, and it is so desperately needed in the gypsy communities of Europe.  The gypsies are the most receptive of all Europeans when it comes to the Gospel message.  They grab it with both hands.  So we prayed together for them, for their family, and for their ministry.

And I pray daily for the Lord of the Harvest to send more workers for this mission field.  The harvest is ripe, but the workers are few.  If you are interested in missions in Europe, whether with gypsies or not, check out GoMissions.

God is good!  Working with God is great!  He’s the best Boss ever, and the retirement plan is out of this world!

Six Hours Late

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What kind of business people are frequently late?

What kind of business people never let you know that they’re running late?

What kind of business people are absolutely unforgiving if you’re late?

What kind of business people never apologize for being late?

What kind of business people claim that they are “on time” if they are under 6 hours late?

Airlines, that’s who!  I’m not sure why we put up with it, but we do.  Honestly, their behavior is outrageous.

Today I am at Milan Malpensa Airport.  I was here on time for my flight, but the plane is 6 hours late.  No apology, no explanation, besides “technical problem” was given.  I was lucky enough to find one of the 3 plugs in this part of the airport.  Thus the ability to write a bit as I wait.

I have to say that I am glad not to be stuck on the plane for 6 hours.  A friend was on her plane for 5 ½ hours before the start of a transatlantic flight.  So add 7 or 8 hours to that 5 ½.  The airline can maintain a good “on time” record if they manage to take off within 6 hours of their scheduled time.  Being stuck in the airport is far better than being stuck on the plane for all that time.

Of course it’s always wise to travel with something to read, but 6 hours in an uncomfortable airline waiting room chair is still too much.  I feel especially sorry for one of my companions.  She’s a young mother with a 2 year old.  She told me that they had left the house at 5:00 this morning, and now our flight (originally scheduled for 12:50) is scheduled for 7:00 this evening.  Her little boy is cute, and a very happy child, but how do you keep a 2 year old entertained for 6 hours in an airport?  I don’t envy her at all!  Every once in a while I see him dash past me with her in pursuit.  She had asked the airline to put her on a flight to somewhere near Budapest, but they refused because it would mean putting her with another airline.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAIf you can see a pink Z next to this notice, you might know which airline I was flying!

I had missionaries who were coming to meet me at the airport in Budapest from about an hour away.  They were going to take me to a gypsy Bible study group, but I will have to miss that.  I checked into the possibility of being compensated in some way for missing the meeting.  But that’s not happening.  I guess I’m glad it’s not actually costing me money to miss the meeting.  But I imagine that some of these people might lose money over being late.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAYou can pass the time playing silly games with your friends.

Anyway, that’s enough griping for now.  No matter how incompetent or inconsiderate the airline is, God is always good.  Maybe I’ll go see if that young mother could use a hand keeping the boy entertained.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe young mother and her little boy take a rest.

—The Next Day—

I found the young mother with tears in her eyes.  She said that she had a terrible headache, so I offered to go get her some aspirin.  However, the airport newsstand that sells all sorts of other travel aids doesn’t sell aspirin.  They told me that I would have to exit security and go to the airport pharmacy.  By this point, it was too close to our 7PM takeoff time to do that, so I got her a bottle of water instead.

She refused the water, but told me that she managed to find someone with aspirin.  And she pointed to the signboard for our gate, which now had takeoff time at 7:50.  She was planning on taking a train to her town about 2 hours away.  She wouldn’t get home until about midnight now.  I wanted to talk with my missionary friends to see if there was any way that we could help her, but the really odd thing is that she vanished into the crowd.  I never saw her again.  I looked for her on the bus on the plane, at baggage claim, but she was just not there.  I have no idea what happened to her.

Some people might be discouraged by not having been able to help the young mother, and I felt that way at first.  But there are some people who are very closed and unwilling to accept help.  I suspect that is the case with her.  She told me that she is Hungarian, but her son and his father are Italian.  She said that she is a believer.

But although she may believe, she doesn’t appear to have a personal relationship with Jesus.  She didn’t refer to the boy’s father as her husband.  Also, I think she’s probably not Hungarian, but Romanian.  Many Romanians from Transylvania (Hungarian-speaking Romania) claim to be Hungarian because of the extreme prejudice of the Italians against Romanians.  Northern Romania is about 2 hours by train from Budapest.  I also got the sense that she was running away.  Perhaps the boy’s father is abusive.  Who knows.  One possible explanation for her disappearance could be the father discovering where she was and blocking her from taking his son out of Italy.  And being abused could be a reason for refusing help—abuse victims don’t feel worthy of help.  That tends to keep the cycle repeating on them.

Whatever the reason, she disappeared, and I never saw her again.  Nevertheless, I feel a peace about her.  I did what I could for her, but there is only so much that some people will accept before the burden of kindness becomes more than they can bear.  I think you call that a guilty conscience.  I prayed for her, and will continue to pray for her.  She didn’t allow me to do much of anything for her, but God can do what I can’t—and more.  God is good!

Dream Big!

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Day Eight

After writing about all my devil dreams, I didn’t want to leave the impression that I only dream about the devil or even mostly dream about the devil—nothing of the sort!  I dream God dreams all the time.  In fact, so many that sometimes I am in danger of forgetting them.

In my book, Laughing in My Dreams © 2012 Alisa K. Brown, www.lulu.com, I told about some of my dream confirmations about getting this apartment, but I had forgotten to write about one dream that was particularly beautiful.

The dream came in 2 parts.  In the first part I was on a bus with Giulietta, the wife of the Music Pastor at my Italian church.  Giulietta is a professional dancer, and dances mostly modern dance and ballet.  So, Giulietta and I were on a bus, going to see my apartment (which I was fasting and praying to get).  The bus was filled with people from church.  Elisa said, “The Lord will give you every place where you put your feet.”

When we got to the door of the apartment I woke up.  I started praying, thanking God for my apartment, and fell asleep again.  The dream continued right from where it had left off.

The bus arrived in front of the apartment—and there is a bus that passes right in front of the apartment, for real, though it stops in the next block.  We went inside and immediately Giulietta started praying in Hebrew.  Her prayer became a song, and although I don’t understand Hebrew, I recognized that it was a song of conquest and victory.  As Elisa sang everybody began to dance, touching all the walls, the windows, the doors, the furniture, etc. (even though it was an unfurnished apartment, it has furniture in my dream).  Then one after another, the people left, and finally Giulietta left, too, and I was alone in my apartment.

This dream came when I needed reassurance that I was on the right track.  Of the people who knew that I was fasting and praying for this particular apartment, only Bethany was truly supportive.  The rest would try gently to persuade me that I should probably look for an apartment in a less expensive part of town.  But not long after this dream, I had a breakthrough.  And now I am in the apartment.

Now, while I am fasting and praying for understand for End Times strategies and preparation, I know that I am on the right track.  Breakthrough is coming.

This morning I got on the bus to go to church, and the bus got about 10 blocks from home, stopped and had everyone get off because the Stramilano marathon was blocking the bus route.  The driver then turned the bus around and went back the way we had come.  I went to the tram stop, but the tram was also blocked.  So I went back to the train station about 5 blocks away.  But by the time I got there I was so exhausted and weak (fasting and physical exertion do not go together!) that I decided just to go home and pray instead.

There is a beautiful golden church at the end of my block, and just as I got to the corner, I stopped.  There was procession of 4 priests and 2 altar boys carrying gold crosses and incense censers, and maybe 4 parishioners with olive branches in their hands.  I watched as they crossed the street toward me.  I had forgotten that it was Palm Sunday today.  (In Italy, they use olive branches instead of palm fronds.)

In my prayer time, I felt such a strong presence of God that I hadn’t felt in a long time.  An hour passed very quickly, then another.  We didn’t spend a lot of time speaking to each other, we just embraced and cuddled.  It was really wonderful.

I’m not advocating skipping church, and I’ll go to an afternoon service in a little while.  But God is willing to meet you whenever and wherever you seek Him.  He might even send a procession to meet you!  God is good!

Hey American Girl, Lighten Up!

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Note: I started writing this on Friday, but got busy and didn’t finish it until today.

Yesterday I learned that there would be the screening of a documentary about human trafficking in Bologna: Nefarious.  Human trafficking is an issue that I have been intensely interested in ever since attending an International Justice Mission informational event at the University of Texas.

I was an usher with the Texas Performing Arts Center.  I had become an usher because a dear friend is an usher at the San Francisco Opera House.  About 6 months after my divorce, I went to visit her, and she arranged for me to work as a guest usher.  I handed out programs at one of the main doors, and got to watch La Traviata for free.  I was hooked.  Since I don’t own a television, it was a good way to get out among people and see some entertainment for free.  TPA, which is on the campus of the University of Texas, hosts operas, ballets, plays, musicals, concerts, etc.   They required that all ushers work a variety of events, and not only “entertainments.”  These included student events like commencements, workshops, and informational events like IJM, all of which we are free to choose.

When I learned that IJM was a Christian event, I signed up, even though I didn’t know what it was.  The auditorium was packed out, so I stood at the back, fascinated and horrified, and heard story after story of women kidnapped and put to work in brothels far from their homes; men who had been tricked into working off bogus debts while living captive in squalor; and even children sold into the sex trade.  There were success stories of people liberated, but clearly the vast majority had not been affected yet.  The most encouraging thing about that evening was seeing the response of the students.  I realized that only young, idealistic, committed people could ever make an impact on the trade in human trafficking.  Most people my age feel bad about the situation, but never do anything, having had our idealism beaten out of us by life.

It was only after returning to Europe as a missionary that I became aware of the prevalence of human trafficking here.  I started educating myself on the subject, reading as many books about human trafficking as I could get my hands on.  Over time, I started to notice just how many people in my city, and even in my own neighborhood, have probably been trafficked here.  It’s shocking.  A few times I have had the opportunity to talk frankly with these trafficked people, but mostly it’s not possible because they speak neither English nor Italian.  Here are a few of the different slaves I have seen:

  • The girl from China who cuts hair 15 hours a day in a busy salon that charges prices so low they can’t possibly pay her a living wage
  • The man from Sri Lanka who goes from restaurant to restaurant selling flowers, bringing all the proceeds back to his “boss”
  • The teenaged girl from Romania standing on the street corner waiting for a man to pick her up in his car and take her away for sex
  • The man from Vietnam who washes dishes in a restaurant for 12 hours a day, every day, with no day off
  • The woman from Thailand who works all day sewing, weaving, and mending in the dingy room in the back of the tailor shop

If any of these people sound familiar to you, understand that their fellow slaves are in your town, too—yes, even in the United States.  Check out the Slavery Map: www.notforsalecampaign.org/slavery-map

So that is how I became interested in human trafficking, and why I’m going to Bologna to see the screening of Nefarious.  The friend who told me about the screening is Annie, a missionary from the US.  In fact, we decided to go together.  So I booked us a hotel room because our friends there all have full houses because of the screening.  In trying once again to buy train tickets on the internet, I found that the website still didn’t work right.  I don’t live terribly far from the train station, but I am busy enough that I wasn’t happy about having to go down there to do something that, in theory, I should be able to do online.

At the first opportunity, I went to buy train tickets.  Usually I buy train tickets from the machine so that I don’t have to stand in the long line.  The machine also wasn’t working, so I went into the ticket office.  One big improvement is that there is no line now, but a machine that gives you a number instead.  That’s nice.  Now if they would just give us some chairs, things would be even better.  When my number came up I went to the window and asked for my trains.  I found that the price was slightly higher than the internet price, which might be due to being closer to the date of travel or the special priced tickets having been sold out.  Still, it wasn’t much higher than expected.

As we finished the transaction, I asked the ticket seller why the train company’s website never seems to work when it comes to buying tickets online.  He said, “If everything worked as expected, then there would be no surprises.  We Italians have learned to live with these inefficiencies.”  I replied, “I’m American, and we expect things to work as they should.”  He just smiled and said, “That’s your problem.  When things don’t work as they should, it’s trouble and chaos for you.”  That’s when I realized that God was speaking to me through this man.  It’s the same lesson He’s been teaching me since I began the Faith Trip almost 2 years ago: relax, don’t worry, and remember that God is in control of it all.

How embarrassing to have to keep learning the same lesson again and again!  I was so sure that I knew it!  In fact, I have written about not being worried about missing trains, buses, or planes: A-DivineAppointment and I-missed-the-train-but-made-it-to-the-divine-appointment, and older posts.  But I do intend to make it to the train (and the film) on time.

Thank God that He’s so patient with me!  God is good!

A Party in Heaven

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Yesterday I went to a funeral in San Remo.  I went because my friend, Nina, told me that I should go.  When I pointed out that I hadn’t known him, she pointed out the obvious thing that I was missing in my momentary selfishness: it’s not for him, but for his family, and particularly for his daughter, who is a good friend.  I hadn’t wanted to go because I knew that it would be an entire day devoted to getting there, a funeral that’s probably a couple of hours, and coming back.  During the brief time between mission trips, I have plenty of things to do: catch up on my bookkeeping tasks, laundry and other housekeeping chores, and catching up with friends here in Milan and with my correspondence.  But, of course, Nina was right, so I chose the better thing, which was to go and be there for my friend.

This morning I went to the prayer group at church.  It’s an hour by bus across town, so I was praying.  I began to feel a deep longing and desperation in my spirit for more of God.  It is true that I have surrendered everything to Him, and that I live for Him, but honestly, sometimes it feels like I’m just playing around at Christianity.  The issue that keeps coming up for me lately is living in God’s supernatural power.  Deep within me I keep feeling that God hasn’t called me to live an ordinary life of going to church, praying for friends and hoping that they’re helped, and just going through the motions—an imitation of Christianity: Christianity lite.  There is a conviction in my heart that we are supposed to be living a life that is truly extraordinary.  This crazy belief comes from the Bible.  Only non-believers lived ordinary lives throughout all the Bible.  And in the New Testament, the extraordinary became even more “normal” for Christians.

I think everything changed when the Church became legal and institutionalized.  But even since then there have been some Christians who have lived extraordinary lives full of the supernatural power of God.  I had wondered if it was wrong to want more of the spiritual gifts (see “Laughing in My Dreams,” chapter 2, The Table).  God told me that the spiritual gifts are really just more of Him.  So this morning, I was praying on the bus for more of God.  The more I prayed, the more desperate I felt.  But I also began to know that this is what God wants for me, too.

I don’t just want more of God so that I can show a mighty display of His power to the world (although that would be really cool!).  I want it for the Body of Christ, for His Church around the world.  If we don’t operate above the level of the world, why on earth would non-believers want to become Christian?  If we suffer sickness, depression, doubts, lack, and fears just like the rest of the world, then what have we got to offer them?  If all this is just for the sweet by-and-by, but not for today, why bother?  But we are called to be different—vastly different—than the world.  They should hold their breath when we enter the room, watching and wondering what we’re going to do next: miraculous healing, prophecy, raise the dead?  They are limited by the natural laws, but we are not, or at least, we shouldn’t be.

I can’t help but be drawn by the contrast of a funeral and a living hope.  It’s in the darkness that the light shines the brightest.  We are in this world, but we need to shake ourselves loose of its fetters that keep us from living the extraordinary life we were made to live.

All around us we observe a pregnant creation.  The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs.  But it’s not only around us; it’s within us.  The Spirit of God is arousing us within.  We’re also feeling the birth pangs.  Romans 8:22-23, The Message

Yes, that’s what it is that I have been feeling today: birth pangs for the restoration of what we are truly meant to be living.  And let me tell you, there’s nothing like birth pangs to send you to your knees in prayer!  God is good!

My Last Day in Sofia

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Angie flew back to Germany very early this morning, and I am waiting for my evening flight right now.  I had a really nice last day here in Sofia.  After breakfast I needed to change money in order to pay my last night’s stay at the hostel.  When I did that, having time before Bill was to come pick me up, I went to the center of town and bought some postcards.  I don’t always have time to look for postcards, buy stamps, write, and send them.  But this time I did.  Let’s hope they arrive as they should.  Bill had his doubts, but I have faith.

Then he took me to another mall, so now I’ve been to 3 malls in Sofia.  I don’t know how many malls Sofia has, but all 3 of these could be in the US because there were so many familiar stores—particularly at the food court: Starbucks, KFC, Subway, Dunkin Donuts, and of course McDonalds.  He bought me an Italian cappuccino and told me about his ministry as a Christian businessman.  He has plans that will bless others both materially (the homeless, for example) and will be financially very profitable in a very short time.  The most impressive things about his ideas are that they are easily sustainable and reproducible throughout Bulgaria and even beyond.  He is putting the finishing touches on his business plan, and when he launches his website, they will take off and that is when he will find investors from all over the world.

When the topic turned to technology, I had to admit that my computer is just a really fancy, smart typewriter that helps me to stay in touch with people.  He smiled and took me to the technology store to show me what he thinks I need: a tablet.  I resisted buying cellphone until 2005, and resisted buying a portable computer until 2009.  And so far, I have resisted buying a GPS device, a smart phone and a tablet.  But as he showed me how easy they are to use, I felt my resistance crumble.  How have I managed without a tablet so far?  Well, I have managed.  It is something to think about, but do I really need it?  I’m tempted, but resisting.

In a few minutes we will be boarding the plane.  All electronic devices must be turned off.  Ha!  They can’t turn my book off!  And prayer is always online with God.  He will show me if He wants me to get a tablet.  God is good!

Our Last Night in Sofia

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

With this prayer trip finished, some of our team flew back to their homes from Skopje, and some of us were flying back from Sofia.  The teammates that had driven up to Sofia from Greece drove back home again.  We hugged and said our goodbyes, most of us will see each other at the next prayer trip in April.

There is a lot of love and unity that develops when people pray together, and especially when they are praying for each other.  This time I was the recipient of a lot of prayers because of a spiritual attack masquerading as a migraine.  It came 2 days ago, the evening before our prayer walk in Skopje (see my previous post “Prayer Walking in Skopje”).  I suddenly had a very sharp pain just above my left eye and in the left side of my neck just where the spine meets the skull.  This was accompanied by nausea.  I went to the room, skipping dinner, and I prayed there through the evening session.  The next morning, I heard that another one of our team had also felt sick, as with labor pains.  Hers was a reaction to what Macedonia was experiencing in the spirit, while mine was a full-blown attack from the enemy.

I know that mine was an enemy attack because I have been attacked this way many times, and it is always just before I go on mission trips.  As I prayed, I was in such pain that I was really beyond words.  But I heard the Lord say to my spirit, “Relax and rest in Me.  Listen to My heartbeat.”  I tried, but much of that time I simply couldn’t hear His heartbeat.  Finally, after about 2-3 hours, I really can’t say exactly how long, I felt better, and I heard the Lord say, “It has loosened its grip on you.”  What He didn’t say was that it was gone.

The next night, after our prayer walking day we were again praying and worshiping.  One pastor there said that Macedonia suffers from a spirit of rejection, and that some of the people present also needed to be freed of a spirit of rejection.  He invited the people to come forward who needed prayers for rejection.  Then he looked at me and said, “Sister, your body language says that you are suffering from rejection.”  I had my arms folded across my chest.  He said, “Open up and receive the freedom that God wants to give you.”  So I opened my arms, and he prayed for me.  I suddenly began to cough very violently—it was like the cough came all the way up from the bottom of my abdomen, and I was bent double coughing.  He continued to pray and I continued to cough, then I fell to the floor (but I think someone caught me, I really can’t say).  Once on the floor, a deaconess from his church came and prayed for me.  As she laid her hand on my stomach I began to feel peace and the coughing stopped.

Then I heard the Lord say, “The demon has loosened its grip on you, now you need to loosen your grip on it.”  I did.  In my spirit I let it go and began to push it away.  I turned on my side and began coughing again, and then it was gone.  I turned onto my back again and the relief I felt was so great that I began to cry.  When I stood again, I returned to my chair feeling exhausted, but good.  Then I began to laugh.  And I just sat there, laughing and laughing.

Yesterday in the car on the way back to Sofia another attack came.  About an hour outside of Sofia we stopped for lunch, but I didn’t eat, feeling again nauseated.  They advised me to take authority, but in my weakened state, I didn’t feel like I could.  The group prayed for me, and took authority over the thing.  The headache and nausea passed, and by the time we were in Sofia, I was feeling much better.

As I was praying about it, the Lord told me that I need to take authority over the demons.  The authority is mine, but I need to take it.  He said, “When you enter a place, they should all flee in fear of you.”  Then the Holy Spirit reminded me of 2 Timothy 1:7: “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline,” (emphasis mine).  And I heard Him say, “You shouldn’t be timid.  You need to be bold.”  And I understood the last words of that verse: “power, love, and self-discipline” as a triangle.  That power and self-discipline come from love.  It’s like love is the battery that gives power and self-discipline their strength.  As I tap into the love, I will find the power to take authority over the demons that they will recognize as His authority, and they will flee from me.

Likewise, by tapping into that perfect love, I will find the self-discipline not to simply ride-out the attack in prayer.  Prayer has worked in the past against these attacks, but now I need to exercise the self-discipline to take authority over the demons immediately.

So last night Angie and I stayed another night in Sofia.  She is flying back to Germany as I write, and I will fly back to Milan this evening.  For our last night in Sofia, Bill and Vasha and Anton took us to the Mall of Sofia, where we ate at the Happy Bar & Grill.  Happy features traditional Bulgarian food and sushi.  Bill suggested a dish called Happy Bits with corn and cream.  I also ordered a Bulgarian salad with the wonderful Bulgarian cheese on it.  Angie had sushi, but hadn’t ever tried mixing a bit of wasabi into the soy sauce.  I’m not sure that she liked the wasabi so much.  For me, it’s just not sushi without wasabi.

After dinner, Angie did some shopping for her family.  I had already gotten bears from Bulgaria and Macedonia, so I didn’t need to do any shopping.  I definitely want to come back to Bulgaria.  The work that the Lord is doing here is amazing, and I love the people here.  God is good!

Road Trip!

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Traditional Bulgarian appetizer plate

Traditional Bulgarian appetizer plate

After church this morning we had lunch at a Chinese restaurant owned by a man from the church.  The food was really good, some of the best I’ve ever had.  I joked with Bill and Vasha about it being traditional Bulgarian Chinese food.

Then after lunch we divided the team up into 3 cars and headed for Macedonia.  On the road we told each other true stories of our lives: funny stories and stories of God’s amazing faithfulness and provision.  One story led to another, with each of us encouraging the others by our personal accounts of God’s help.  In this way, the miles flew by and friendships grew stronger.

We arrived in Skopje in a rainstorm.  The hostel had misbooked the rooms, and I noticed that the people who had ridden in the other cars were irritable and unhappy about it.  With some arranging and rearranging, the rooms were eventually worked out.  One person said that the irritability could be a spiritual thing about Skopje.  Maybe, but if so, then the conversation in our car was the vaccination against irritability.

Leann is a girl who likes to eat real food—as opposed to sandwiches or crackers for dinner.  I agree.  So the two of us went out in search of a real meal, although I wasn’t so hungry.  We had gone out like this before, in Warsaw and again in Prague, and had developed a special bond because of it.  We found a restaurant at the end of the block, but they said that their credit card machine wasn’t working.  The cash machine around the corner solved our lack-of-Dinar problem, and we returned to the restaurant.  Leann had gnocchi in cream sauce and I had a lovely chicken soup.

During these trips we spend so much time with the whole group that it’s nice to get off in a pair like this and have a real conversation.  When we got back to the hostel we met the local coordinator, Keith.  I know more or less what to expect, having been on several trips with OCE, but since each capital city is unique, there is always something different.  We’ll see what Skopje is all about in the next couple of days.  God is good!

The Light Shines in the Darkness

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I have written a few stories of actual people who have been trafficked (in both “Look, Listen, Love” and “Laughing in My Dreams”).  Those were people that my friend, Clara, the pastor’s wife in Romania told me about.  Buck and Nadia work with women in prostitution, and they have been telling me about the women they know.

The first time the issue of human trafficking came to their attention was in the small town three hours from Sofia, where they were pastoring a church.  The head of the children’s program at their church came to them with the desire to tell her story.  She had gone with a friend to Macedonia because of the promise of a job, and their documents were confiscated and they were told that they would be prostitutes.  She was a virgin and lost her virginity to a stranger in his car.  Her friend ran away, but was caught, and as the other girls watched, they broke both her legs.  Amazingly, the girl did eventually manage to get away, but now, years later, she still struggles with her past.

They said that they tried not to look shocked, but they were.  They had never heard of such a thing.  But little by little they became aware of the magnitude of the problem.  Often, even if the girl manages to get away, the police are reluctant to do anything about the trafficking.  The police and local officials are often involved either financially or as non-paying customers.  And the girls are mostly foreign and without legal identity documents—they are essentially non-persons.  So even non-corrupt police would rather ignore their complaints than get into the massive legal hassles required to help undocumented persons.

When they began working with prostitutes these stories of trafficking became more and more common.  One girl told how she had been living with her grandmother and helping her, but she needed to return to her own home about an hour away.  She ran into an old friend who invited her to have coffee.  Over coffee she told him that she needed to go back to their town, and he offered her a ride.  On the way they stopped at a coffee shop, and she didn’t think anything unusual about it except that her brought her a soda that was already opened.  Back on the road, she began to feel strange and physically paralyzed.  He had slipped her the date rape drug.  They went to her house, got her identity card, and he took her to Macedonia.  Because of the relaxed borders of the European Union, all he had to do was show both their identity cards to the border guard.  Then she saw him receive money for her, and she was put into a brothel and told that this would be her work from now on.  She became pregnant in the line of her work and was severely beaten for refusing to have an abortion.  Somehow she got away and into a halfway house for girls coming out of prostitution.  She said that whenever she looks at her baby, she tries not to remember how he was conceived.

The stories go on and on about husbands who send their wives out to work as prostitutes, and husbands who don’t like for their wives to work as prostitutes, but tolerate it because they like the money.  Many of the girls cope by pretending that they are a different person when they are working, and trying not to be present in their bodies during the act.  But these are only temporary and imperfect fixes.  There is nothing in the world like becoming a truly new creation in Christ Jesus.

No matter where you live, there is human trafficking going on in your country, and probably in your state, and possibly in your own town.  Check out the slavery map: http://www.slaverymap.org/.

God is good.  God is love.  Jesus is the ultimate expression of God’s love for humankind.  Love cannot allow this evil and injustice to continue against approximately 30 million people worldwide.  Love demands a response.  What are you going to do about it?

Buckaroo

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Greetings from Bulgaria!

As my plane was landing, I could see that Sofia is a beautiful city, and seeing it on the ground confirmed what I had seen from the air.  I am staying with Buck and Nadia, pastors who God had led to leave their church and town to move three hours away to Sofia, but not to start another church.  What they had always done is church planting, but here God is calling out of their comfort zone.  While they are wondering what to do, Nadia has been working prostitutes and other trafficked people.

I met Nadia at a conference in Estonia in October, and we had hit it off.  So when Operation Capitals of Europe set Sofia as their next capital, I contacted Nadia.  She invited me to come for a few days before the start of OCE.  I think this was divine timing.

Last night Buck and Nadia had some friends over and invited me to a Christian musical that had been locally written and produced.  The friends are a couple: Anya is Bulgarian and Sasha (which is a male name) is Russian, and they are both dancers.  The conversation was mostly in Bulgarian.  My ears grasped at a few familiar sounding words, but mostly it sounded very much like Russian.  Buck ordered pizza from Domino’s, and I saw pretty much everyone put ketchup or mustard on their pizza—even my fellow Texan!  I tried mustard on mine, and it was really good!  I would never put mustard on an Italian pizza, but it’s good on American pizza.

Seeing that my plate was empty, Buck asked me if I wanted another slice, to which I responded, “No, I’m good.”  He laughed about how funny it is to say “I’m good” when refusing seconds.  I told him about trying to explain the Texanism “fixin to” to non-Texans, and how I had had to train myself to use the more universally understood “I’m getting ready to.”  He laughed.  He could relate.  Now I keep hearing myself saying “I’m good,” when I had always said it unconsciously.  But as I thought about it, it’s kind of a nice affirmation to say about myself several times a day.  I am good!

The musical was called “John, Son of Thunder.”  Of course, it was all in Bulgarian, and set in modern times, but it wasn’t hard to follow along, since I have read the Gospels.  The music and dancing were really great, and the set design was imaginative.  The audience was most of the spectrum of Sofia’s Christian community, and they pretty much all know each other.  I commented on how nice it was to see Christians of all denominations coming together like this—it’s only really happened in Milan with the March for Jesus.

This morning I woke up to snow falling, but it hasn’t stuck.  For me, snowfall is always a miracle from Heaven.  Who know what God has in store for us today?  But I know this:  He’s good, and whatever He has for us will be good, too.  I’ll say it again: God is good!