There and Back Again: A Trip to Zhovti Vodi

Well, I have been "there and back again," and am much better for it. This past weekend we, (six from Rzhishchiv including Gaven, Jono, Sergei, Tanya, Masha, and myself) bumped and rattled our way over the approximately six hours worth of crater ridden asphalt between here and the town of Zhovti Vodi for a conference. It was well worth the potholes, however (maybe not for the van!) and I went away so blessed by God.

Aside from all the cool things God did and shared with me, the trip itself was quite an experience. I woke up at 2:30 a.m. out of sheer excitement, just like I've been doing before nearly every roadtrip I've been on since I was old enough to know what roadtrips were. But I went back to sleep until 3:20, when it was really time to get up and get moving. There's something about being up when the stars are still out, and setting out on a journey :)

We headed down the road and watched the Ukrainian countryside awake with a soft pink glow on the horizon cut by the bare trees that lined the fields for miles. The gray-blue haze eventually lifted to reveal fields and fields of rich black earth and dry, broken stubble; andvillages caught in that mud-laden time between winter snow and spring growth. Then we started hitting the potholes, trying to avoid the potholes, and generally still getting our brains jiggled to bits by the potholes. There's not much that can be done when the road is more potholes than road in places.

At least the potholes provided great entertainment. I've never been on a roller coaster before, but I don't feel like I've missed out at all. Any need I have for motion thrills can be more-than-adequately satisfied by car rides in foreign countries. Take, for example, the one where your van is in the proper lane, headed in the proper direction. Before you lies a series of potholes that could be mistaken for the great lakes, dried up and filled with asphalt. Coming around the bend straight ahead of you, in your direction, are two cars in each lane. You're going about 70 kilometers an hour, which is hard to describe if you're like me and still think in miles, but in any case feels like a rocket about to break up when you're on a a two lane road in that situation. I actually kind of enjoyed it.

Then there was the bit where the front seat drivers, the back seat drivers, and actual driver had conflicts and we ended up in Pyatixati (Five Houses) which just barely surpassed its name. There we saw a lot of mud, numerous species of barnyard fowl, and a nice lady with four adorable piglets who pointed us in the right direction. (Oops, I mean the lady pointed us in the right direction, not the piglets.)

Eventually we arrived in Zhovti Vodi (Yellow Waters) and got to the church where they had the conference. The first day and night were ones of dazed bewilderment because I was feeling a little faint from lack of sleep and food (breakfast at 4 a.m., lunch at 3 p.m., and supper around 10 p.m.) and it took a little time to get used to the new surroundings and a style of worship I wasn't quite accustomed to. We clapped a lot and people on the stage danced around and made funny faces while they sang. But by the end I figured out we could all worship Jesus just fine together, funny faces or not.

That night a gal from the church named Tanya, took Masha, Tanya, and I to her apartment, where we stayed the night. I was so impressed that this church of approximately 300 people (though I could be mistaken on the number) hosted 200 guests in their houses and apartments! I'm still stunned and inspired by the hospitality around here. I love it.

I made immediate friends with Tanya's cat, "Zhasmeen," who curled up in my lap when I sat down for tea. *Purr* :)

After a good nights' rest and a fresh dose of perspective, I felt much better.

I was one of only five "foreigners" at the conference, and we had our own translator, Sonia, whom I became friends with. I'm so thankful for her! So we just clustered around her at every session and she translated very thoroughly. I hung out with her a good bit the rest of the time, too, because I wanted to get to know her, and because there weren't a lot of other people to talk to in English.

It's a very vulnerable feeling to be in a a place where you don't know people and you don't speak the language. You start to feel like a dumb animal that can only communicate by grunts and squeaks. (Mostly squeaks in my case, accompanied by frequent blushes.) And an inaudible, but definite mental "Oh d-d-d-dear!"

You crave respect and the sort of power you had back when people could understand you and you were actually considered smart sometimes. But it's easier to take when you are prepared for it, and this time I guess I saw it coming when I signed up for the conference.

Why does so much of what I write come out sounding negative when I'm acually very happy and excited about the whole thing? Just ignore what I'm writing, please, and know that I had a blast. Even when I almost got squished in the snack line :)

The main things that God spoke to me about throughout the conference were: Purity, Worship, and Creativity. He seemed to unfold those things to me in that order and blend them together like an exquisite painting being done before my very eyes. It was so cool.

He's purifying my heart from all the things that steal my life from Him and giving me a deep desire to worship Him. Linked to that is the yearning to see other worshipers raised up, because the Father seeks worshipers in spirit and in truth (John 4, I think). And entwined with that is the idea of creativity in worship-- or, using every area of our lives to glorify Him.

I crave art in almost every form it comes-- language, writing, painting, drawing, poetry, song, dance...the list goes on. I've had a desire to actually do a lot of these things, but I've always had different fears and inhibitions. People tell you all through your teen years to find out your talents and abilities and serve God with those things, but what if you don't feel talented at anything? I've waited and waited, driven by fear of failure and desire for assurance and man's approval, and now God seems to be saying,

"What are you waiting for? Don't hold back because you lack ability. Forget about talent. Use your desires to follow Me."

One speaker at the conference used the example of how a baby has to learn to walk and use the potty, etc. It isn't born knowing how, and it takes a lot of practice and mistakes to learn. But the kid is put in a family with a father and mother and siblings who love it and care for it and help it along, and it learns. I feel like that in the area of art and a lot of other things. I feel so ignorant. But there's something me that is screaming to get out, and now I know that it's not just me wanting to "express myself," but my self, wanting to express God. There's something that needs to be poured out. It belongs to God and it shouldn't be altered by human opinion or my pride.

I don't know what that something looks like yet, but...I'm encouraged to create whatever beauty I can.

At the conference several music groups played, some groups did dances, and they even had a mini video contest of clips different churches had put together. There's a lot of talent here. It was very inspiring.

Well, when all these "revelations" came, I was pretty excited. But the the crowning joy was yet to come.

That night, a lady stood up and said that if any of us wanted to share a testimony from the conference, we should come talk to her about it and then we could share on Sunday. I felt that little prompting, but I wanted to ignore it.

It would be a lot easier to just stay in my seat instead of plunging myself into what I knew would be a tortuous process of pressing through a throng of human bodies to find the woman, standing there feeling red and foolish while being translated, enduring a restless night of anticipation, and the trying to keep my adrenaline-laced heart from pounding out of my chest the next morning as I faced a crowd of strangers, once again with a translator. BUT-- then I thought about how Jesus and these people deserved to here a testimony about Him. Sure, other people could give testimonies, but nobody could give my testimony except ME.

I wanted to tell them how, when I came to the conference, I had thought I might not understand anything, and how God had just told me "Go and praise Me." And then how I had come, and God had spoken so much to me, as if He'd given the speakers just the right words to speak to me about things that had been in my heart for months and even years.

So I gave in and before I knew what I was really doing, had jumped in over my head and talked to the lady. I walked to the apartment in the dark with the girls and my head was spinning. I started to think of what I would say, and then Russian words came to mind. And suddenly I thought, "I could say this in Russian!"

My cranium picked up speed as the impulse grew stronger-- I wanted to give my testimony in Russian! A day earlier I wouldn't have done it, but now I knew that I shouldn't be afraid to use what God had given me to bless Him with-- at least to give it a try.

As I sat on the bed pulling my socks off, I mentioned it to Mash.

"I really think I could do it in Russian," I told her. She looked at me with a look that said "Don't kid yourself." She pointed out that I don't like to be in front of people in the first place, and that when I try to speak Russian it takes a long time for me to come up with the words, and that this wouldn't be a good time for that. Which was true, of course. True enough to make douse me with doubt. But then, I still had this crazy feeling...

I managed to sleep just fine, and in the morning, after some consideration, I still wanted to try. The rest of the testimony came to my mind and I started asking questions about Russian words I didn't know. It wasn't very long, and I would need help for the last few sentences because they were a little too complex, but Masha said she would go up there with me.

So when testimony time came, I went up there and started talking in Russian! It was simple and very imperfect (I said the word "city" instead of the word "year" at one point, and who knows what other mistakes), but everything I had planned to say just poured out in whole sentences. I couldn't wipe the silly grin off my face, and I think I was laughing in disbelief while I spoke, because I was so excited not just about the testimony I got to share, but about the one I was living out right at that moment.

I've been discouraged and guilty that I haven't learned or used Russian more, and like I said, a lot of times I feel degraded because I can't communicate. But in that moment, there was an intense, rich beauty of crossing a barrier into the world of this church in Zhovit Vodi. I spoke to them in their language! Looking back on it, I see that it was a miracle. I'm not fluent by any means, and I feel like God just scraped up the meager scraps of my Russian and put them together to make something special.

After saying my bit, I handed the microphone to Masha and finished in English, and then went grinning to my seat, adrenaline rush in full swing. I loved how afterward I felt liek such a part of the body there. I think it means something to people when you try to speak to them in their own language.

After church we left hurriedly and went bumping home, snacking on the sausages and bread the church had supplied us with. We reached Rzhishchiv while it was still light, rounding the bend to be greeted with the sight of the beautiful little town on the shining blue river, and I thought that this is still the prettiest place I've seen yet in Ukraine. I'm sure it doesn't compare to Crimea and Carpathia and those sort of places in other parts of the country, but this is a dear little shire, and in a way, I love it. It's like Hobbiton. They even hunt mushrooms :)

It's good to be back.