Tag Archives: vacation Bible school

Surprised by Love and Kindness

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I have the best job in the world, and I can say that because I have the best Boss in the world.  I’m a missionary, and my Boss is God.  I have never felt like my job was thankless or the work difficult.  Jesus said, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light,” (Matthew 11:29-30).  And I can attest to the fact that it’s true—it’s truer than I had ever imagined possible.  How can it be that I spend my days pleasantly, doing what I love to do: meet missionaries, pray for them, and help them whenever and however I’m able?  It sure doesn’t seem like work, but I have a benefits program that’s unbelievable.  God provides for all my needs, He’s the Great Physician of my health plan, whenever I need legal help He’s my Advocate and the Judge, and the retirement program can’t be beat.

Me teaching the children to do the “Hokey-Pokey.”

 

I am in southern Hungary, staying in a nice house with a sweet family.  I came here at the invitation of a friend to help in a children’s summer Day Camp/Vacation Bible School.  I’ve been helping this week with various aspects of their program, but honestly, I’m somewhat limited as to how much I can do because I don’t speak Hungarian.  What I’ve done is teach the children some songs and games in English, help with the afternoon snacks, and basically just be available for anyone wanting to practice their English.  To be honest, it has just been fun.  Nothing I’ve done all week felt like work, and the family is very pleasant to stay with, despite the language difference.  The oldest son speaks English fluently, while the rest of the family’s language skills vary from almost fluency to practically no English at all.

Tonight they asked me (through the oldest son): “What does Hungarian sound like to your ears?”  Without hesitation I responded that it sounds like tongues.  When this was translated, the family screamed with laughter.  But I have noticed that after spending all week hearing Hungarian all day every day, I am beginning to be able to distinguish familiar words.  OK, most of the words I recognize are the numbers (one to ten) that I learned last year.  But I’ve also intuited a few words from the way they are spoken or the subject matter (when I know it).  And I know that if I’m able to pick up a few Hungarian words without really trying, then my advice to students wanting to learn English is good: listen to English every day.

Today was the last day of the camp, and they wanted me to speak briefly to the audience of children and their parents, and to lead them in a simple English song (“Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes”).  So I just told them how very grateful I am to have had the privilege of getting to know them and their children.  I had seen firsthand how big-hearted and generous the Hungarian people are, but that didn’t prepare me for what came when my part of the program ended.  The Camp Director came to the front with a basket of goodies for me, and he spoke about how much they all love me, and how they hope that I will someday return to visit their town again.  That’s when I lost it.  I was so touched by their kindness that my emotion flowed out of my eyes.  I doubt that any queen has been treated as royally as I have been treated here.

 

 

The Scars of Communism

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Greetings from southern Hungary!

I came here at the suggestion of a friend who is a pastor in Romania.  I am here to help with a children’s summer camp program, so I was prepared to rough it, maybe sleep in a barracks with lots of giggling girls.  Instead I’ve found myself welcomed into their home, and tucked into a very cozy room with my own private bathroom, and a door to the beautiful courtyard garden.  And in the garden I saw three kittens.  As many of you know, my kitty, Boo-Boo died in January, so the sight of kittens in the garden was especially welcoming.

The summer camp is sort of a vacation Bible school day camp at the church.  There are probably about 75 children involved and about 30 adults and teens.  I was asked to speak to the entire group about who I am and what I do (with translation).  So I put together a slide show presentation of simple words and pictures to introduce myself and my ministry.  I also brought Prayer Bear, my traveling companion/pillow, and let the children play with him while I spoke.

This is Me

Just before leaving Milan, I had just finished the book I was reading, and wanted to bring something to read on the plane to Budapest.  So I grabbed the book that was at the top of the box marked “books” that I had finally gotten out of storage after a year.  It was a book I’ve been meaning to read for a couple of years, but simply never had the time.  But, as I’ve noted before, God has a way of putting just the right book in your hand at just the right time.  This book is “Tortured for Christ” by Richard Wurmbrand.  He wrote it in 1967 about being imprisoned and tortured for 14 years because of his Christian belief—in Communist Romania.

I think I had avoided it before because I didn’t really want to read details about torture.  But the book actually has very few details about torture because Pastor Wurmbrand wrote:

The tortures were sometimes horrible.  I prefer not to speak too much about those through which I have passed; it is too painful.  When I do, I cannot sleep at night.

So what is the book about, if not torture?  It’s about the Underground Church behind the Iron Curtain, when atheism was forced upon the population.  The Underground Church actually thrived on some of the very tactics used to quench the Christian faith, which makes this a very good read, indeed.

And as I spend these days with the precious Hungarian children, I find myself thanking God over and over again that they are allowed to learn about Jesus.  Their grandparents were not allowed to “infect” their children with Christianity, though their own faith was sometimes tolerated.  At age nine, Pastor Wurmbrand’s son was essentially “orphaned” by his parents’ imprisonment.  He was homeless and alone.  The people who dared to help him or take him in were eventually found out and thrown into prison, too.

I think the knowledge that his son was on his own in the world at such a young age probably was as bad as any physical torture he suffered at the time.  His son eventually became the first director of Voice of the Martyrs.  You can find out more about the organization, and how you can help persecuted Christians around the world at: www.persecution.com.

Talk about non-conformists!