Voices from the Valley

Chris Heuertz speaking about Simple Spirituality

2008-08-18T09:37:00.001+02:00

'Light Trap' Photography show

2008-07-05T20:38:00.002+02:00

Robin Fowler and Joel Klepac with Dan Burlacu just had a photography show at the cultural center in Galati. There are links to the photos and shots from the opening here.

Interview with Chris

2008-06-04T21:04:00.002+02:00

Here is a recent interview with the WMF International Director. He talks about who Word Made Flesh is and talks about his book Simple Spirituality.

Good Will Hinton Weekly Podcast: Chris Heuertz of Word Made Flesh

A Modern Day Massacre of a Holy Innocent

2008-05-30T09:59:00.002+02:00

by Monica Klepac

Last week was a hard week, extra hard. We learned of the death of a little baby girl, Andrea, who hadn’t even reached her first birthday. The cause of death was a lung problem, but the cause of the lung problem was neglect. This kind of neglect was deep and wide. Deep meaning Andrea had only one bath in her whole life, one she was given at the drop in center by our staff, Robin and Ana, while teaching her teenage mother. There is only one picture of her, being held by her mother and surrounded by Robin and Ana. She had many health problems and required a special regime of formula, which her parents neglected to give her. When our staff would visit, she was often soaked through with pee and covered in a rash, left in the care of other children. The depth of the neglect was profound and shocking.

Yet in the wake of her death, I am shaken just as much by the breadth of neglect, meaning the wide range of people who turned their eyes and ignored the hungry, filthy infant lying unresponsive on the couch. At the first level were her parents. The mother is still a teenager, and has experienced abuse, death and neglect in her own life. She has another child a little older who also shows signs of neglect. Andreea’s father is a young man who has been so beaten down by life he doesn’t have the will to stand up for his family. Next in line are the extended family. I saw them a bit at the funeral. The controlling grandmother, the drunken grandfathers, the uncles and aunts without jobs, the multitude of cousins left with family while their parents are working out of the country. At the funeral as they chatted and shuffled around the coffin, I shuddered to think how many people were in that small, falling down home, and how they all managed to ignore this sick baby.

After family, the authorities carry blame. When our staff saw clear signs of neglect, we contacted the DPC (the Romanian equivalent of family services) and their response after the first home visit was, “We don’t see any signs of neglect.” We proceeded to enlighten them with a list of items we had observed that all pointed to neglect. They visited again, saw a few of the things we mentioned, scolded the mom for begging with her children, and that was it. The irony is that the offices for the DPC are literally less than a block from the condemned building where this family lives. The social workers and bureaucrats who work there likely drive by that house everyday, probably slowing down to avoid the children who literally play in the street outside. Yet they did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And all this has happened in the EU. Romania joined the EU in January 2007, and Andreea was born in April. She was a European citizen her whole life. She received no benefits, no rights, no protection from the government or society. She was forgotten and left alone by her family, the authorities and society. In the years leading up the joining the EU, Romania put on a lot of show to prove our worthiness. We got a professional army going, our currency stabilized, many infrastructure projects made things look modern and western. But what has really changed if there are still babies like little Andreea who go hungry and without basic care? The orphanages are closing down, but there are still families who cannot and do not care for their children. What does it say about our society when we ignore the weakest and smallest members?

I must point the finger at myself also. Though I was not legally responsible for Andreea, I too have failed her. I have looked at her mother and believed she has no future. I have looked at her father and in my heart called him weak. As I would hear about the situations Robin and Ana were facing with this family and the authorities, I would pray, but sometimes with very little faith that things would change. Her death did surprise me, as I have seen children overcome so many seemingly impossible situations. And as these reflections show, my reactions have been pendulum swings from grief to anger and back to grief.

One thing that has been a comfort, as much as anything can comfort in this situation, is the church’s honoring of the Holy Innocents who were massacred by Herod. The Orthodox Church remembers them on December 29, significantly sandwiched between the wonder of Christmas and the revelry of New Years. Almost as if to remind us that our joy is not far from sorrow and life is not separated from death. The story is found only in the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 2:16-18. Though it is not recorded in other gospels or in secular historical texts, it is very in keeping with the character of Herod. He was power hungry, and had killed possible opponents before. The age of the victims wouldn’t have been a deterrent, as after meeting with the Magi, he was intent on stamping out any possibility of another king. Looking at this story next to Andreea’s story, the similarities are disturbing.

Both of these atrocities happened in a society that believed they were pinnacle of civility. The Roman empire proudly touted the Pax Romana guaranteeing security and peace to all in its reach. The EU has similarly established itself as the standard bearer when it comes to human rights and freedom for all citizens. Yet when it came to protecting the most vulnerable members, each society failed miserably.

In each situation, the lust for power over shadowed any virtue or morals. Herod would remain king at all costs, even if it meant the shedding of innocent blood. The officials at the DPC are not royalty, but they do have very high salaries, and are often hired in what we call in the south, a “good ol boy” system of who you know, not what you know. Through their actions, they consistently show that their need to protect their positions comes before their duty to protect children. Herod used a sword, DPC uses red tape, but the result is the same.

And sadly, in Herods time and in our time, there are many accomplices to such a crime. Herod of course did not slaughter children himself, he had scores of soldiers who willingly went along with his commands. In Andrea’s situation, there is a chain of neglect from family to social workers to elected officials.

I am no theologian, and I cant begin to confront the issue of theodicy. I have no answers as to why children die, especially when their deaths are surrounded by injustice. But the comfort I find is that God knows these sufferings though we have ignored them. He sees the littlest one fall and is grieved. As Andrea breathed her last, He never left her. Even as her parents neglected her, authorities forgot her, and I failed to hope for her, God’s love remained constant. I mourn the loss of Andrea’s life here on earth, yet I am comforted that she, like the other innocents who died under the heavy hand of oppression, is now lifted up. She is glorified, meaning she is now whole and healthy and radiant before her good, kind and just king.

The Poor in the European Union: An Opportunity for the Church

2008-05-19T15:39:00.003+02:00

by David Chronic

A people’s identity is composed by the stories it tells.[1] The stories that underwrite the Romanian identity tell of Thracians and Romans and of Stephen the Great and Brancoveanu. Communism brought its own narratives of workers’ power; but when they collapsed, the void was quickly filled by the stories of democratic capitalism, which tell of the free individual participating in a free society. Today Romania is finding its identity as European, but the E.U. also brings its own identity-creating narratives.

While occidentalism, capitalism and democracy are the dominating narratives in Romania, it is still differentiating its identity.[2] Politically, Romania does not identify itself as a “Balkan state” so as to avoid being related to the conflicts in the former Yugoslavia, and Romania does not call itself part of “Eastern Europe” but rather “Central Europe” in order to stand against the past and present influence of Russia. Romania’s integration into NATO also reinforces its systematic participation in the west. Although it is predominantly Eastern Orthodox, the Pope John Paul II’s visit to Bucharest upheld Romania’s pro-Latin and pro-West stance. Romania’s desire to be identified as European was legitimized by its integration into the European Union.

Fundamentally, the E.U. is an economic narrative. Initially called the European Economic Community, the E.U. seeks a common space of trading goods and labor and a common currency. In order to serve and protect the economic goals, it has formed a political entity. The stories that sustain the common identity of “European” go back to the Greek and Roman Empires. Although it is geographically an off-shoot of the Asian continent, Europe defines itself as set apart by the history of its empires, by its Catholic and Protestant heritage, and by its philosophical and scientific claim to “Enlightenment.”[3] The self-perception of being the benchmark of civilization legitimized its history of colonialism. Although today there are countercurrents of tolerance, pluralism and “political correctness” that seek to atone for past international domination, its assumption that “western standards” are better continue to support promises of the E.U.’s narrative for development, accountability and integration.

But not only does the E.U.’s narrative not integrate all Romanians, but it particularly marginalizes the poor. Certainly, the E.U. has some positive effects on the poor. Poverty is defined, identified and measured.[4] Social programs are instituted and financed to alleviate destitute poverty. The E.U. territory is open for free movement and, therefore, access to jobs. The E.U. is causing wages to rise in Romania. And its international policies and laws create a system of accountability and protection.

However, the negative effects of the E.U. indicate that the chains of poverty are not loosening their grip. Many of the millions that have emigrated from Romania are from the bottom of the economic class. Baited by higher wages, many end up doing the west’s undesirable jobs, in the black market, or, worse, in illegal activities. Some do succeed in finding good jobs but still suffer from a broken community. A 2007 study by the Soros Foundation states that about 350,000 children — almost one youngster in every five — have at least one parent working abroad, for at least two years, and often four or more. The Romanian government estimates that 60,000 have been left by both parents, but the number is probably much higher.[5] Not only are there social and psychological effects on the children, but the parents also have lost a community to which they are accountable and supported.

Although the migrant workers are better paid in the west than in Romania, they are still underpaid in comparison with their national counterparts. In Romania, wages are rising due to government policy and demand for labor, but this is not enough to bring Romanians home. Instead, Romanian companies are recruiting immigrant labor from Turkey, China and former Soviet countries – others that are uprooted from their communities to work in foreign land. And the effect of this business trend is keeping workers’ wages low.

In addition, the rise of wages in Romania (between 10-12% annually) has not matched the rise of prices.[6] Food, energy and housing costs have increased substantially more than wages. Sadly, this affects the poor more than the non-poor because it means spending a larger proportion of their income on inelastic goods. For the poorest, it means simply doing without these basic necessities. The poor, thus, are have less buying power and are economically poorer than before their so-called entry into Europe. In addition, the cost of housing coupled with the re-privatization of property has forced many of the poor out of their homes – some end up in degraded social housing while others move to the countryside for subsistence farming. Thus, the poor, the best case scenario, are objectified beneficiaries of but not participating subjects in the E.U.

Another sign of the E.U.’s failure to integrate its members is the increase in fascist parties and anti-immigrant violence.[7] The E.U.’s claim to be a pluralistic culture of tolerance has no narrative foundation except that knowledge that the lack of conflict is better for economics – a sentiment that cannot sustain ethnic and cultural difference. Of course, some immigrants have done terrible and inexcusable acts in their host countries, but the backlash of the anti-immigrant mood has been felt most by the poor, many of them innocent of the allegations.

With Romania’s path toward the E.U., the country experienced the hope of political accountability and the brief curbing of corruption. After Romania joined the E.U., however, it saw corruption rise again, bringing the E.U. commission to scold the Romanian government. Unfortunately, the politics have changed little. Romania is seen as the most corrupt country in the E.U. And again, the poor bear the brunt of endemic corruption. When bribes are demanded by doctors or government workers, this costs the poor a higher percentage of their income. Plus, they usually do not have other options to avoid bribery.

Although the narrative of the European Community does not deliver on its promise to integrate, there is a community with an alternative narrative that does sustain development, accountability and integration. It is the church. Sadly, the church has tried to integrate itself into the E.U. rather than being an alternative community.[8]

Because the story and values of the church has generally been co-opted by the E.U., she has not critically stood against superficial tolerance, emigration and other effects on the poor. The church in Romania is yet to be an example of an alternative community where difference is celebrated and united in Christ. And although emigration will continue, the church still has not awoken to a Christian basis for migration. If anything, Romanian Christians living in other countries are establishing fellowships for other Romanians. Some claim that Western Europe is the second most non-Christian population in the world after the 10/40 window.[9] But if the Romanian church would disciple its members and send them as missionaries to be salt and light in secular Europe, then maybe they would see that they have something to give rather than something to take from Europe.

The church is to be an alternative community with a distinctive story that tells of God’s loving involvement and redirection of world history. This story is particularly good news for the poor (Luke 4:18). Where families and communities are being broken in the name of a “higher standard of living,” the church has a vision of families living together, parents caring for children and children loving parents (Ephesians 6). Where workers are exploited, the church tells the story of a community where wages are just (James 5) and economic divisions healed (I Corinthians 11). The church is the community that cares for the poor (Acts 2:45) not as beneficiaries but as participants (Leviticus 19). The church does not simply engender superficial tolerance but embraces those that are different (Galatians 3:28) and loves the stranger (Luke 10) and even the enemy (Matthew 5:44). And the church calls the corrupt to account and protects those that are powerless (Matthew 21:12; Acts 6). The failure of the E.U. to offer a sustainable narrative of integration is an opportunity for the church to be a peculiar people (I Peter 2:9), a radiant city on a hill (Matthew 5:14) and to live the story the person and place into which the nations are truly integrated (Romans 15).

[1] MacIntyre, Alasdair, After Virtue, University of Notre Dame Press, 1984.

[2] See the dissertation presented at the Romanian Cultural Centre, U.K. by Mircea Micu, “An Alliance Dilemma? Understanding Romanian Foreign Policy in the Context of Transatlantic Divergences”.

[3] On European identity, see Mihai Neamţu, „Europe in Post-Nihilism? Between the Silence of Words and the Rhetoricity of Images,” Studia Universitatis Babe-Bolyai, Studia Europaea (XLIV) 1-2, 1999.

[4] See, for example, “Child Poverty and Well-Being in the EU: Current status and way forward,” European Commission, January 2008, and the Phare program.

[5] Luca, Ana Maria Luca. ‘Romania: Long-Distance Families’, Transitions Online, 26 April 2007.

[6] http://www.mediafax.ro/engleza/eu-trims-romania-2008-wage-growth-to-10-4-from-12-2.html?6966;2592377

[7] For suggestions on a basis for multiculturalism in Romania, see Rogbete, Silviu E., „Some Reflections on Religion and Multiculturalism in Romania: Towards a Reappraisal of the Grammar of Traditions,” Romanian Journal of Political Science, 35-55.

[8] The alternative community is the church – in the world but not of the world – that imagines, proclaims and lives a different vision of humanity, society and the cosmos, which flows from life with God, not from the state or other dominant communities.

[9] Johnstone, Patrick and Jason Mandryk, Operation World, 51.

Discipleship

2008-04-22T15:00:00.001+02:00

by Katy Daniels

We were at church one Sunday, just milling around at the end of the service as you do, chatting to people and just watching. A few of the kids from our centre were there that day and I found myself tuning into the conversation one of our girls was having. She was talking to a lady in a wheelchair who as far as I could tell she did not know. She was wearing a small scarf that day and the lady in wheelchair made some comment about how pretty it was. Not much unusual about that but her response was a challenging one. Rather than thank her for the compliment she simply took the scarf off and gave it to this lady. If I had been in her shoes I would probably find myself accepting the compliment and I expect would have gone on to elaborate as to where I got it or tell her who had given it to me. Taking it off and giving it to her would probably never have even entered my head despite the fact that I could guarantee that I would have had another one if not another few in my cupboard at home. Yet this little girl, who was about 9yrs old didn't even seem to hesitate to think about what she was doing, it appeared as natural a reaction to her as my reponse with where I got the scarf would have been.

Elizabeth Day at the Beggars' Society

2008-04-22T14:55:00.003+02:00

Reflections on Galati

PRUNING

2008-04-01T13:47:00.001+02:00

by Becca Gray

What an ugly bush I see,

Is the mirror reflecting properly?

Those branches aren’t spaced evenly,

And these leaves here are wilting

Perhaps I should try to break this limb,

So full of meekness and timidity…I will,

Oh, but now, how much I miss,

That apple of humility

Maybe the way to deal with this,

Is to forget these branches of pain,

I will look at the fruit on my branches,

What beautiful fruit, I say!

Where have all the people gone?

Who is enjoying the fruit I bear?

It’s up too high for them to reach,

I’ve gathered it unto myself

“Who planted me?” I ask with ire,

“Who wanted me to grow?

There must be some other power here,

For I am too big for myself”

Suddenly a gardener takes shape,

But He’s been there all along,

Watching me grow, waiting for yielding,

“Every branch is perfect,” he smiles,

I will watch Him

A Call for Squares

2008-02-29T14:54:00.004+02:00

We have been working on this broken computer monitor this week with the kids in our art pragram. When they ask me what we are doing I (joel klepac) have been telling them that there is nothing good on TV so we are trying to put something good on it.

We are making an animation out of the squares on the screen by changing out the squares. I am looking for anyone out there, wherever you live to make us some more 1inch by 1 inch squares. They can be drawn, colored, painted, cut out of magazines, cut out from milk cartons, basically anything semi two dimentional that you can mail to me in Romania. As long as it is interesting to you throw it in an envelope. If it is easier to send you can glue a row of one inch pieces to a piece of card stock adn we can cut them out when we get them. Look out we may use the stamps too. If you are collecting squares for us send me a note and I will send a mailing address. (jamklepacATgmail.com of course replace the 'AT' with the @).

Blessed are the Poor: My time in Romania pt. 2

2008-02-15T12:11:00.000+02:00

by Kevin Wright

I first met Andrei through a picture Robin hung on her wall. The photograph displays Andrei staring into the camera, fists raised in a boxer’s pose. Robin told me how Andrei and his brothers stand on street corners begging for money even though it is against Casa de Vale’s policy. The boys roam the streets of Galati at their pleasure and eat when food is available. There are some nights when hunger is the only thing on the menu. This is Andrei’s life.

I think that most Christians truly believe that every child is precious to God. This is why Christians gather at abortion clinics waving signs and hurling hurtful words. While any violent actions or scathing invective they might employ are inexcusable, their love for the unborn child is admirable and appreciated. Gregory of Nazianzus’s famous line, “That which Christ did not assume, he did not redeem” is especially poignant due to our proximity to Christmas. God’s decision to embrace human life, including conception and puberty, demonstrates the Holy One’s commitment to cherish and redeem even the earliest years of human existence. Human life, as a gift from God, cannot be dissected into parts that might be pitted against each other in regards to value. The sin of the disciples in forbidding the children to approach Jesus was not that they failed to honor the little ones above all else, but rather that they failed to grasp God’s love for all humanity in every stage of developmental existence.

However, to believe that every child is precious to God and then to enflesh that belief takes different amounts of effort. To believe that the children of Casa de Vale are precious to God is not a cheap endeavor. The children might kick you, yell at you, or even worse, ignore you. You have moved into a foreign land and now the people to whom you have committed your life want nothing to do with you. There is no blood binding the staff to these children. Compulsions constraining biological parents are not applicable here. You either believe that God loves children like Andrei and so should you, or you hop on the next plane back to the US.

God is redeeming each child at Casa de Vale. The staff works countless hours hugging the children, feeding them, teaching them, playing with them, crying with them, and acting as a refuge of stability and permanence. It is because God loves children like Andrei that my friends now live in a city foreign to them and far from their families.

On one chilly morning I saw Andrei playing basketball with the other children. In one hand he held an orange that someone had given him as a Christmas gift. I walked over to Andrei and pointed at his orange so as to say that I was proud he had received such a fine present. Andrei smiled at me with juice running down his cheek, looked at the orange and then offered me a piece of his precious gift. Moments like these shake me to the core. My bones are rattled by such radical acts of generosity as I stand in the presence of one who understands the Kingdom’s economics far better than I ever will. A child of the streets wearing donated clothing offers a well-off westerner the privilege of sharing in his joy. Who can say that a more beautiful gift has ever been given to them?

This is the redemptive work to which my friends at Casa de Vale dedicate their lives. Andrei does not need to respond to an altar call to demonstrate God’s work in his life, a half eaten orange offered with a simple smile will suffice.

Note: Names have been changed to protect the children of Casa de Vale

Blessed are the Poor: My time in Romania pt. 1

2008-02-12T14:06:00.000+02:00

by Kevin Wright

I can think of few places as beautiful and resplendent as Casa de Vale.

I journeyed to Galati, Romania, to visit my dear friends Josh and Robin Fowler. The Fowlers work for Word Made Flesh, a federation of like-minded communities committed to serving Jesus among the poorest of the poor. I had little contact with Word Made Flesh until this past semester when I had made friends with Chris and Phileena Heuertz. Chris and Phileena are the executive international director and community care director of WMF, respectively. The Heuertz’s were at Duke Divinity School as a part of The Center for Reconciliation’s Practitioners in Ministry Program. Over the past semester I learned, listened, and laughed with Chris and Phileena as they became a beloved part of the Duke Community.

The decision to visit Romania was due in part to three reasons. 1.) Josh and Robin are wonderful friends whom I miss very much. 2.) Chris encouraged me to go. 3.) I love Europe.

So, roughly two months ago I booked a cheap ticket on the internet and made plans to spend my Christmas break in Romania. My family graciously gave me up for the Holidays and on December 18^th, I flew into Bucharest where I was greeted by people I truly love.

Casa de Vale (The Valley House) is the primary presence of Word Made Flesh in Romania. It is named the Valley House because it sits in an older and lower part of Galati. The Valley is a section of town brimming with poverty. The streets are lined with dilapidated shacks, stray dogs, and abandoned buildings. The streets are uneven and one must constantly guard his step from broken glass or uneven pavement. This is where the children of the Valley House live, and you will never meet a more beautiful people.

WMF runs the Valley House as a drop-in center for the children of Galati dwelling in poverty. A mixture of Romanian and American staff cares for the children as they stop by the Center before and after school (Children only attend school 3-5 hours a day in Romania). Upon arriving at the Center, the children are required to brush their teeth and change into clean clothes they keep in their lockers. This is to ensure that lice and fleas are not brought onto the premises, although some always make it in. A flea bit is seen as a badge of honor because it signifies the close proximity one shares with the children.

The children are also allowed to take showers if they desire. For many of the children who do not have hot water, this is indeed a godsend. The physical as well as emotional and spiritual health of the children is taken very seriously. Robin frequently accompanies children on trips to the doctor or dentist and other workers try to help the children work through attachment disorders developed from their broken families. The Valley House is not just a sanctuary of safety, it is a breeding ground for hope.

Throughout the day the children attend Bible studies, art classes, homework help sessions, and other activities around the Center’s grounds. A hot meal is served in the early afternoon, which is the most nutritious and balanced meal most of the children will eat that day. Vitamins are dispensed to each child and then it is off to the small courtyard where basketball and tire swing pushing are the order of the day.

I do not want to glamorize or romanticize poverty. For the children of the Valley House, an entire force of social discrimination awaits them. Many of the children are from Roma descent and thus are subject to discrimination in schools and disdain from their classmates. These children, just like any youth, experience disciplinary problems and can be sent to the time out bench. However, the majority of the time, the children behave well and go through life with a smile on their face. They are taking over the very definition of what it means to be happy.

The Valley House exists to help these children be loved and learn how to love. This is a process of humanization that attempts to elevate them out of the depths of dependency, and place them on a solid foundation constructed of community, grace, and hope. There are days when the work is hard for the staff and the children. Living in community is not easy, especially when you are constantly in danger of getting bitten by fleas. However, Jesus has placed His presence at Casa de Vale and the gates of hell shall not overcome it. Please remember your Christian brothers and sisters who tend to the open wounds of Christ in the Valley.

An internship on the streets

2008-01-30T10:58:00.000+02:00

by John Koon

Wading through thick waves of September heat one afternoon early in my internship at Word Made Flesh Romania, my companions and I caught sight of the group of young men we had come to visit. With the intention of playing soccer and sharing a meal with them, we had arrived in a neighborhood in Galati where these friends of ours make their home on the streets. As we approached we watched them sitting on benches, their faces hidden behind slowly pulsing plastic bags. Something began to ache inside of me as, for the first time, I observed our friends enslaved like this, sucking in their ecstasy and escape, but I nevertheless gathered the courage to greet them. My attempts were met with cool indifference as the guys scoured our group for the one most willing to engage them in what was, we would find out, the pressing matter of the moment. With accusing arms flailing through oppressive air, they proceeded to shout about where we had actually set our meeting place and why were we late and wouldn’t it be more convenient to play soccer over there? I watched their eyes, bloodshot and brimming with sleep deprivation, intoxication, and the pain of rejection and ridicule, staring intently at one of our workers, their voices bluntly stating that they were no longer interested in seeing us. I was confused, even hurt, and found myself inwardly questioning the situation as we turned around to leave. Hadn’t so much been invested in them? Could rejection be that quick, that easy? I hung my head sadly, asking the others if we would come next week and try again. How can we decide to stop loving someone? I thought. Is someone’s dismissal of us reason enough? If our efforts and presence do not result in life change, was the time spent worth it? When does the pain become too much?

One of the other servant team members and I began walking toward my host family’s apartment, when, in keeping with our downcast spirits, the pregnant air succumbed to a thundering downpour. We dashed into a nearby café for cover and, taking a table, endeavored to process what had just happened. I don’t remember much of our conversation, but what I do recall is that from this point on, questions and doubts about our service among the poor began thundering through my head like the rain that at once shockingly—and yet poignantly--broke through the roof of our coffee-scented shelter. The questions continued to pour into my brain as I later found myself going on walks around Galati and candidly asking God if He had allowed His mustard-seed Kingdom to die in the ground. How could the guys on the street be so reluctant to accept our friendship? I prayed, stupefied. My questions, the imposing Communist architecture I passed on each walk, and incessant thoughts of hungry children sleeping in warm sewers were causing me to seriously doubt God’s promise that He is making all things new.

Recently I was reading Philip Yancey’s book The Jesus I Never Knew and was pleasantly surprised by an observation he makes about Matthew 25. The end of this chapter is quoted often as a reminder of our responsibility as followers of Jesus to care for the poor. However, I had not read it in context in a long time until stumbling upon Yancey’s comments. The parable in Matthew 25:31-46 is actually the climax of a long discourse beginning in chapter 24 about the destruction of the temple, the end of the age, and the coming of the Son of Man. This teaching ends with three parables in chapter 25 about the coming of the Son of Man, the first two actually emphasizing, as Yancey points out, the absence of the bridegroom, Jesus. Through these parables, Jesus instructs His listeners to live faithfully and to be prepared for His coming. In the third parable, on the other hand, we find the bridegroom present in a very peculiar way: in the hungry, in the thirsty, in the stranger, in the naked, in the sick, and in the imprisoned. Maybe, through this subtle detail, Jesus was demonstrating to His followers the way in which they could best keep watch and prepare for His coming: by serving Him among the least of His brothers.

This realization further embedded into my mind that, as the Word Made Flesh tag-line states, we are in fact serving Jesus among the poor. Our main goal in playing soccer with boys on the street is not to see them leave their addictions or to even see them move into a home and begin an education, but to serve, know, and love Jesus among them. Although seeing lives transformed by the power of God’s grace is something for which we praise and earnestly seek Him, our ultimate motive in service is to know Him intimately. He is the one for whom we hunger and the one for whom we were created. He, clothed in the disguise of the least among us, is our coming bridegroom.

As I continue to sift the same questions through my mind that I had initially encountered in Galati, I cannot escape the mystery of Jesus’ deep sense of identification with the poor, the broken, and the outcast. Mother Teresa writes in her book No Greater Love, “You may go out into the street and have nothing to say, but maybe there is a man standing there on the corner and you go to him. Maybe he resents you, but you are there, and that presence is there. You must radiate that presence that is within you, in the way you address that man with love and respect. Why? Because you believe that is Jesus. Jesus cannot receive you—for this, you must know how to go to Him. He comes disguised in the form of that person there. Jesus, in the least of His brethren, is not only hungry for a piece of bread, but hungry for love, to be known, to be taken into account” (p. 84-85). That “the image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15) would make Himself so utterly vulnerable is beyond my comprehension.

Ultimately I want to know Jesus. I want to know the love that He has for what is broken in this world and to be assured that He is working to restore all things. Will we continue to visit the boys on the street? Yes. Will we continue to demonstrate love when our efforts are met with flippant rejection? Yes. Will we continue to believe that the Kingdom of God is near? Yes. And why do we persist in these things? Because we are seeking the glory of God, believing that one day the whole earth will be filled with the knowledge of who He is (Habakkuk 2:14). And we serve because we are seeking the presence of Jesus, our bridegroom, the humble servant who has hidden Himself among the poor. We seek Him because He is truth and love and because He, exalted over all the earth, stoops down in humility to lift the poor from the dust, seating them with princes (see Psalm 113). Thus, following His example, we will linger limitlessly with open arms stretched toward the boys on the street, desiring to honor the image of God in each of them. Our hope and love may wane, but the restorative power of God will not. He is the one who is brilliantly making all things new, blessing us with His presence in unexpected places.

Struggling through a Servant Team

2007-11-13T17:17:00.001+02:00

I’m lonely. In fact, I’m not even sure that captures it. I feel alone. I’m feeling the effects of being in a place where I have trouble connecting with people. This is partly because we can’t speak each others’ languages well, partly because all my relationships are completely new within the last 3 months, and partly because relationships are just hard. I’m longing for someone to talk with. Someone to invite me to speak. Someone to keep me company I suppose. I’m longing for love. I haven’t felt this way many times in my life, but right now I feel down-right needy. I need some attention. I need some tlc. I need a back scratch and some of mom’s cooking. I need love.

Part of me doesn’t want to continue processing this, because I’m afraid I will inevitably discover how it is for my good and how God is using this to teach me something. Of those two things I’m quite confident, but I don’t know that God necessarily causes me to experience something like feeling alone, so that I learn stuff and become a “better person”. I’m tired of simplifying things like that. God is infinitely good, and He loves me. He has spoken to us that He works things out for good for those whom He loves and has called for His purposes. What’s frustrating to me is that I think we use ideas like that to make us ignore our feelings and emotions. The fact is I feel alone! I feel like I’m not known. I don’t feel enjoyed. I’m not sure where God is during this. Because of God’s character I trust that He works things like this out for my good, but the fact is it feels awful right now and this is not how things should be. People are not supposed to feel these things! In the fullness of God’s kingdom people will not feel this way!

With that said, I wonder what the children of Galati feel? The children who live on the streets, or the children who come to our day center everyday. I come from a home of love and support – wonderful family and friends. I currently live in a community like Word Made Flesh which is focused on relationships. Yet I still have moments like this. These children likely know nothing of the loving and supportive family and friends that I know. What do they feel like? Do they feel loved? My time spent with Word Made Flesh here in Romania has helped me to realize that perhaps the greatest poverty one can feel is the poverty of not being loved. Healthy, loving relationships are an absolutely essential part of who we are as people made in the image of the Triune God. As we consider serving and “loving” people, are we thinking mostly in terms of providing an answer to material poverty, of home and hunger, or are we as the Church willing to be Christ in the wake of relational poverty, this poverty of love?

Often when we interact with people in poverty, the conversation probably goes like this:

“Sure, I can give you some stuff. Here’s some cash. Need some clothes? Can I buy you a meal? Here you go. Go in peace.” But as I live among the hurting and I am begged from daily, and as I live life with the kids at-risk in the day center, I’ve learned to hear something deeper than what reaches my ears:

“What’s that you’re whispering? You’re saying that’s not what you really need? You say you’ve been trying to tell me this all along - with your fits of violence and anger, your begging, your cutting words, your sad eyes. Oh, you just want to be loved you say…

I think that’s what I’ve been saying too, I’ve just been using different words – melancholy, sarcasm, silence.”

I too feel this poverty of love.

Oh Lord, help us be one. Help us love.

A Day in the Life of a Servant Team Member

2007-11-03T08:12:00.001+02:00

My name is Nathan Atkinson and I currently am living in Galati, Romania and that’s why you are reading about me on this blog. I’m a servant team member which means I’m staying here for four months, nearly three of which have already past by with alarming speed. While I’ve been here I’ve had good days and bad days and crazy days and out of those choices I’ve decided to share a story with you about one of my crazy days. It was a Sunday quite awhile back – when it was still warm – and I left my host family’s apartment early. There are a total of nine in the house now, counting me, which means people are sacked out anywhere and everywhere in our tiny apartment except for the bathroom. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I left so as not to disturb anyone.

I took the bus and headed to meet up with the some others at one of the staff member's homes. On past Sundays I'd gone to a Pentecostal Church here in the city but this Sunday a group of us (the servant team, a visitor to the community, our two team leaders and another family in the community) were going to an Orthodox Cathedral together. Though as I write this I can look through the lens of having gone to an orthodox church multiple times (though I am still by no means an expert and never will be) this particular morning was to be my first experience in Orthodoxy. The majority of Romanians are Orthodox, as I well knew, and I was excited to have the chance to experience their take on the Christian religion.

After we all met up and walked to the cathedral together we went in silently to experience the already-in-progress service. The large cathedral was full: of music, of singing, of the smell of incense, of icons and of people. Literally no wall was left unpainted and the voices of a choir came from a mysterious, unseen loft and filled the high-ceilinged "room,” echoing off the walls that, through paintings, told many famous stories of the Bible. Adding to the sensory overload were relics and chests and gold "things" hung all around. People were bowing and praying and crossing themselves and kissing icons. Only a few older women sat in the seats on the side reserved for those who were too infirm to brave the empty space where most churches would have chairs or pews. Chanting priests were walking on and off of the stage, swinging chains with little containers of incense with bells hooked on, walking in and out of a back room that was hidden behind an ornate door and curtain. We watched this for awhile, about an hour, and then left. The whole service is actually about three hours, so you have to be pretty resolute to stay for the whole thing. Some do stay for the entirety of the service, but coming and going is completely acceptable. Anyway, we later learned a little bit about the tradition of the church which basically just made us realize how much more we didn’t know and probably never will. The Orthodox Church is full of tradition and meaning and, well, it’s very different.
After we’d asked some questions about the church I headed back home my host mom had cooked some soup and it was fresh and hot. It was delicious. When I first arrived in Romania the food was only so-so, but then my host mother returned from wherever she had been (at the time my language skills were not such that I could understand exactly where, just that it had been “bine”) and then the food improved by a mile. Anyway, after lunch I had to use the bathroom which, when there are nine people, is not something that just happens. I waited for a long time, almost an hour, then finally decided to take a walk to the nearby mega grocery store and use their public bathrooms. There aren't a lot of "WC's" available to the public, but luckily I live right by one of the few that is readily accessible.
From my bathroom trek I went directly to the Pentecostal Church that I’ve attended a bit while I’ve been here in order to meet up with the pastor. He had invited the other guy on our servant team to go with him to a country baptism, and the invited had been extended to me and the two girls on our team. It seemed like a good opportunity so we got in a car with him and were off. It was strange to ride in a car after a long time of not doing so, but it was also fun. On the way the pastor stopped at a country church - it was in a two-room, bright blue building with no door down a gravel/dirt road. Inside a woman greeted us and forced us to eat a couple pieces of cake and the biggest cluster of grapes I've ever seen. Before we could finish we had to leave for the baptism, so we got into the car with our grapes and a random old woman who wanted a ride to the event. Though I’ve never been a big grape fan in the states, the grapes here are really sweet and I've gotten used to eating them every day. I've also gotten used to swallowing grape seeds, but as this was a big cluster of grapes it took quite awhile to finish. As he drove and we ate grapes, the pastor mentioned his dislike of the Orthodox Church. He had some reasons that seemed fairly logical, as well as some I disagreed with and seemed rather misinformed. Really, it was strange to have attended the Orthodox Church just that morning and then hear him start in with his bashing. The whole thing started me thinking about the meaning of church. For the Orthodox it is all about prayer and worship and symbolism. For this pastor it was all about learning from the sermon and discipleship. Both seem like pretty good goals to me, and it's rather frustrating that they clash here at the churches in Galati .
Next we arrived at the baptism, which was already in progress. It was inside a little pink church with wood walls and chairs and a wood burning stove for when the weather turns cold. It reminded me of my childhood home, except for the pink part. A very nice woman who said she loves speaking English translated the service for us. After a lot of singing - about 45-minutes of songs like "We Have Decided to Follow Jesus" and "How Great Thou Art" in Romanian - and a long sermon - about an hour-long talk about the different deceptions people fall for, including the Orthodox church - it was time for the baptism. The pulpit was moved back and a trap door opened up and three individuals were baptized after they gave a brief version of their testimony. One old man in his eighties cried and said how sorry he was that he had waited so long to come to the Lord. After each baptism the newly baptized person climbed out of the water behind a sheet held up by members of the same gender; thin and soft white clothes may look saintly and otherwise appropriate for a baptism, but when wet they are anything but modest. Then there was more singing and some very loud prayers. At times it felt like our interpreter was having a shouting match with the person praying. Then the service was over and it was time for snacks outside. We got to socialize with some of the church members and the freshly baptized and it was fun.
On the way home our pastor stopped at the home of a woman dying of cancer. It was quite awkward as we went into the one-room house, again with no door, and saw the woman lying on the couch where she obviously had been sacked out for quite some time. We talked and sang with her, and all in all it felt quite shallow. Her daughter's family, whose house she was staying in, sat around trying not to cry. Then we read the 23rd Psalm and prayed with her, though, and that seemed to comfort her a bit. In reality, what we had to offer seemed rather shallow in light of what she was facing.
Then it was time to head back to Galati , but we had barely driven at all when we saw a woman lying on the side of the road. We got out and helped her up and then helped her find her shoe, which she had lost. Then we picked up her walnuts (there were hundreds if not thousands of them and they looked an awful lot like potatoes) and help her repack a bag she was carrying that was full of shoes. Go figure. Anyway she said she wanted to go to Galati so she climbed in. The car was now completely full and we drove a little ways and then stopped to drop off the woman we had picked up on the way to the baptism. As we did so another woman approached the car and she asked for a ride. I guess it's like a pastoral taxi service. Anyway, after that we finally arrived in Galati and I got out in Micro 19 (my section of town) and headed home.
At home the apartment was loud and smelled amazing. My host mom had cooked more food, much to my delight, and so I ate and then waited for the bathroom. After I'd used it I headed straight to bed, though it was only 9. A full day in the life of me, if you wanted to know.

reflections from a Servant Team

2007-10-19T14:24:00.000+02:00

I am twenty-two years old, a recent college graduate, and a born-and-raised Southern girl from North Carolina. The road that led me to Galati, Romania was one of prayer and desire, yet flat out fear (even though I’ll only be here a total of four short months). I felt that it was Christ Himself tugging at my heart strings to step out of what I knew and loved as my “comfort zone” and into a world of the unknown, the unexpected, the unplanned. I obeyed His call as a “dutiful daughter” should. Although at some points I was kicking and screaming, initially causing my obedience to be out of obligation rather than devotion, I quickly fell deeply in love with the call placed on my life for this season (and quit the kicking).

My experience so far in Romania has been incredibly revealing and heartrending. I feel as though I have been punched in the face with issues so huge that I find myself thinking, “These are issues for the mature Christians in history, like Mother Theresa or Dorothy Day. Not some wide-eyed silly 22-year-old kid like me!” Through emotions such as this one, I’m being taught the incomparable grace of Christ. I’m being taught to not put limits on Him as to what His plans are for me. He can teach me what He wants to teach me WHEN He wants to teach it to me (seems like a pretty simple lesson, eh? Wonder why it’s taken me a while to learn it). He is so merciful in His lessons.

I’ve learned that life is a beautiful gift, but full of pain and sorrow that we see each day. As my time here continues, I realize more and more that although there is abundant reason to dance and sing for joy, there is also very evident abundant reason to lay prostrate before our Father and mourn. I have wept for those that we are currently living with… the poorest of the poor. I have been shattered (and hope to remain that way) for the children and their families who are broken, wounded, and used.

We, as Christ-followers, not only need to be, but HAVE to be advocates for the poor. Christ has demanded us over and over again in His Word to take care of the poor among us. We have absolutely no excuse and no escape from this demand made of us. The truth and realization of this issue requires change of lifestyle and willingness to live the life that Christ lived. I have been challenged to read the Word, dig deep into these issues, and open my heart to the ways our Holy Father is asking me to change my life.

I pray the invaluable lessons I am learning will permeate through my soul and leave me FOREVER changed. I pray my eyes will never close again to the evils of this world or the solutions that I can choose to be a part of. I pray that as I head back to the States and my previous lifestyle becomes appealing once more, I will remember the burning images of those who have caused my heart to shift violently in my chest. I pray I will apply that remembrance daily as a challenge to myself and those around me.

with joy and love,

Kate Gilliard

Hope against hopelessness

2007-06-11T15:58:00.000+02:00

It is one of the most despairing sights, and I see it almost every day. M. crouches down close to the pavement and takes the cellophane bag to his mouth. His face is dirtied by the sticky shoe glue, and his eyes are glazed. After a few minutes of puffing, M. gets up and stumbles out into the intersection to beg from stopped cars.

After 10 years of developing relationships with the children on the streets, we are still confronted daily by the grip that the streets hold on the children. Many of the children that we met 10 years ago are now men, but they are still on the streets. They are bound by their addictions to glue and alcohol. They are bound to their gang of “friends” on the streets. They are bound by the “freedom” to live as they like.

When I look at the children that we have helped off the streets, it is not much more encouraging. Many are in jail for stealing. Others still wrestle with alcoholism. Some are living illegally by illegal means in western countries. These kids were taken out of the streets, but the streets weren’t completely exorcised from the kids.

But in the face of despair, we continue to hope against hope. This isn’t a blind optimism. In 10 years we have discovered some very good ways of helping the children. We work hard to help children get into schools so that they are off the streets. We work hard with parents to set limits and to develop healthy attachments to keep children at home. And we are directing the youth on the streets to address their addictions and take steps to stop using. In effect, we believe that there is a way out.

Even when the street children don’t take the way out, we continue to be a compassionate presence of light in the darkness, love amidst abuse, and faithfulness in the fickleness. But this stance is a hard one. It hurts to see the kids turn time and time again back to the streets, to the cold and to their addictions.

How are we, as Christians, to respond to the children and youth on the streets?

How can we cultivate hope when we are tempted to despair?

What more can we do for M.?