Returning: Article 10

Returning. It’s a bittersweet word, holding connotations of leaving and arriving.

In my last article, I spoke of my desire to stay in Poland, so the bitter portion of my returning home was not surprisingly a dead weight in the pit of my stomach. The mix of hopefulness, sorrow, stress, and impatience that caused a stir in my chest, kept me on edge while heading to the Poznan airport. I didn’t begin to relax until after I boarded the plane. At that moment I realized I was returning home, and, unless God performed some divine act, nothing was going to change that.

Returning. I’m not always so good with dealing with this part of travel. I joked around a bit and tried engaging in conversation with whomever was next to me. You know, I was allowing myself to be distractible. I don’t remember much about that flight except that a lot of thinking happened. I also had the opportunity to strengthen my self-discipline by exercising restraint on my tear ducts. That was a very hard work out, but I did not want to bawl on a plane full of Polski people.

Returning. At that point in time, the leaving was more bitter than sweet. I was stuck in a seat on an airplane that was zooming me away from my new found loves. I was leaving Poland. I was leaving a people that I dearly wanted to give joy and freedom in Christ. I was leaving friends and people with whom I so easily became fond of, and they fond of me. I was leaving a place where I felt I was home, despite the language barrier. And I was leaving a family that in so many ways made me their family, as well. I was leaving without knowing if and when I would ever see any of it again.

Returning. The thought of arrival wasn’t exactly pleasant at first either. Though I was coming home, I was to arrive at place of unknown. Arriving with little money. Arriving to the things I left behind, but that of course would have changed with the time I was gone. Arriving to life unscheduled, yet back to normal. Arriving without the slightest clue as to what God wanted for me next, which is annoying, since I felt I knew exactly what I wanted.

Returning. It wasn’t all bitter. I found sweetness in leaving Polish bathrooms, constant sneezing, and the language barrier. Sweetness also awaited my arrival. Family, friends, and peanut butter chai’s were ready to welcome me.

Returning. You never really know what to expect. Life can be just the same as you left it, as though everything was on pause for months at a time. On the other hand, you can close your eyes for a moment and everything changes. In this realization I put my expectations on the unexpected. Which was a good idea. Though much was the same, I was surprised by how much had changed in the month I was gone. Looking back now, I’m amazed at how much has changed since returning.

Returning. I’ve traveled a decent amount in my life, and I’ve come expect the emotional low that accompanies returning. For a month I was busy, constantly surrounded by people, and doing something that made life feel productive. I was learning and growing and developing friendships that I hope never to forget. In less than 36 hours goodbyes and see-you-later’s were said, 5000 miles passed beneath me, hugs and welcome homes were given, and being utterly exhausted physically and emotionally I found myself in bed, eyes leaking saltiness, thinking that all I know now are just memories. The next few weeks were an up and down journey emotionally speaking. Even in that though, it’s an opportunity to grow.
Returning. Like I said earlier, I had no idea what I was coming back to. Actually, I knew I was coming back to no job, but I didn’t know what I was going to do about it. I remember in one of my freak out sessions, God telling me to be still, He had it all under control. He did. In the last two months I have been sick, having no money, and no real prospects of what I could be doing next in life. Was I coming back just to work to live, living in my parents house? But from that base God has brought up opportunity after opportunity. So much has happened. I was able to start working at the Higher Grounds Café again and begin getting ahead with finances. I have been blessed with the opportunities to be able to participate in a multiple outreaches around Minnesota. I have been able to help with different worship teams and youth groups since returning. Obviously, I have been able to write multiple articles for the paper, which has been a blessing in itself. I now have my time in Poland chronicled and have received a fair amount of good feedback. It’s been good.

I have returned. This word can leave one with the impression that it is the end of a story, but thankfully it’s not. One of the opportunities that has been presented to me the past couple months and that I’ve accepted, is moving to Detroit, MI in January. I know, I’ve heard the concern from many people at this decision; I have heard the news and the rumors of a dangerous city, but I am excited. Detroit is a broken city, but I will be able to go and help some friends do what we can to help mend the broken, and while we do so, plant a church. At times I am fearful and others I’m excited. This will be another great growing experience; one that will no doubt give me more tales to tell. Which is good, since this is my last article for now. Hopefully in a month or two, I will be returning to all of you again. God bless.

Can I Stay?: Article 9

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“How do you like Poland?”

I was asked this question within the first few hours of arriving into the beautiful country. Of course, at the beginning, what do you say? The land is beautiful and very similar to home, but the language barrier was very overwhelming. Of course, answering the question became easier as the days passed. The more I learned and experienced in Poland the more I liked it.

It didn’t take any longer than a week, before I was getting comments about the return visits I must make. By that point, I was open to the idea, though I wasn’t utterly in love Poland. I was enjoying my time, but at one point I remember thinking that if I had to go back home, I could do so fulfilled and ready to move on to the next season of life without too many qualms about leaving early.

I went to Poland expecting my time there to be more of a bridge leading to the next thing, instead of actually being the next destination. I don’t remember the exact day, but I remember the feeling of realizing that I had been wrong.  I remember looking at everyone and thinking I could just stay. My first suggestion to do just that followed shortly after.

Sitting with others in the Białecki’s kitchen in Janikowo, Monika started talking about the Christian theatre school she and Jarek had attended and how it would be possible for me to go there. She said I could go to school, help with the Dar ministry, live with the Siech family, and learn Polish. The idea didn’t sound too bad to me.

That same weekend in Janikowo two different people, two different times made reference to me staying and getting a paid job to teach conversational English in Janikowo or pretty much anywhere in Poland if I wanted. With each passing suggestion and day, I not only delighted in the realization that these friends wanted me to stay in Poland, but I began to realize that I wanted to stay more and more.

As much as I wanted to stay, though, I more so wanted to do God’s will. If He wanted me to return to the States, then I would, and if He wanted me to stay in Poland I would be perfectly content to do so. I began to pray about staying and because this would be such a big move, I asked for a couple specific signs or fleeces (a concept found in Judges 6:36-40). I asked God to allow one of four things to happen and then I would know that I was suppose to stay in Poland. If they did not happen I would return to the U.S. knowing that it was the will of God.

After requesting this, it seemed to me that God’s sense of humor came out a little more. Everything I asked for would happen in part, but before each scenario could reach the fullness of what I asked it seemed as though God said, “No.”

The first of these requests was that I would have enough money in my bank account to be able to pay for at least one more month of living in Poland. That would roughly be $600. After praying the four things, I went to check my account to see what I had to work with. I knew from previous balancing of the finances that I shouldn’t have any more than $50 left, but when I checked I was surprised to see a couple hundred dollars. Through some giving of others God had increased and blessed me financially, though not with enough to pay for staying in Poland. Every time I would check to see if something changed or increased, I was slightly disappointed, though blessed by what I had.

If God didn’t want to give me money for the next month I had suggested that He find me a place to stay with room and board free for the next month. This was the second “sign” I asked for. The night before I was to fly back home, Jarek, who had been the only one up to that point not suggest I stay, sat me down with Google translate to have a conversation. In this conversation he told me of what I could do in Poland, how I could help, how I was wanted, and at the end even said that their family would be able to continue feeding me for free while I was living in there building. Realizing the financial capabilities of the family I realized how sincere and loving this offer was, but I also realized that it wasn’t the fullness of what I asked God for. I needed to be able to stay someplace without having to pay for at least the first month, but that wasn’t part of the offer, or even really possible. I was 0 for 2.

The third sign was that something would happen in the beginnings of travel and for some reason I would not be able to board the plane or the flight would be canceled. While we were being driven to the airport we listened to the radio as our friend/translator/driver told us of the big topic of the morning: airline protesting. It was said that many of the flights going into Frankfurt would be canceled or delayed. Only one of four flights was actually able to set out. My heart raced while I heard the reports. We arrived in Poland through the Frankfurt airport; it wasn’t hard to believe that our flight may be canceled. Even our driver said that we might be able to be stuck with them a little while longer. Once we arrived at the airport though I found that our flight was going into Munich and would be right on time. Like I said before, it seemed like God was teasing me.

The final request I had made was a side thought, random, and now when I think of it, I am embarrassed. I told God, that if someone proposed to me, I would stay. Mind you, this was a couple weeks into Poland that I said this, there was still possibility to meet some crazy person and have one of those overtly romantic stories you get from the movies. Also, mind you, that when I said this and even up to the point of me leaving there was no one in particular I had in mind. I met some awesome men of God, but marriage was truly not on my mind besides that quick moment of my flippant request. It was more of a joke because of everyone teasing me before I left for Poland about finding a husband, than it was a serious cincher for me staying. Knowing all this, God decided to continue teasing my stupidity.

There was one young man who had not initially planned to be spending much time with us, but ended up staying with us, traveling with us, and translating for us for about a week. After our last night of the tour we dropped him off at his home in Poznan. A couple days later was the Friday that Russ, Doris, and I were flying back home. That morning as we gathered for one last breakfast, Russ mentioned that our friend had emailed him about a conference that he was attending for the last few days of his holiday. He also mentioned, while looking directly at me, that our friend said, “I think I have met my future wife. I must pray about this.”

My first response was, “Wow, that was quick. We only dropped him off a couple days ago.” Russ looked at me strange and I just ignored.

About a half an hour later he was mentioning it to someone else, though he continued looking at me. I was confused a bit, but because of the emotional times of saying goodbye I just continued to ignore him. Finally, right before we were about to leave he said it again. It was then I realized that Russ thought our friend was talking of me. Slightly surprised and taken aback I remembered the last “sign” I had asked God for. I began to mentally freak out a bit. As much as I was friends with this guy, the idea of getting proposed to (while obviously a far-fetched thought) all of the sudden seemed like it could be a possibility and I was not at all enjoying that thought. What if Russ was right? What if the guy came to the airport? What would I do? I know I would have to stay in Poland, but would I have to say, “Yes?” Between the possibilities of flight cancelations and proposals my heart felt like it was running a marathon. At one point, our driver received a call from someone with the same name as the friend. This did nothing to calm me, even after I found out it was a different person. I honestly did not relax much until our plane took off.

Obviously, as I am back in the U.S. none of these things happened, but while I was on the plane flying back home, I asked God why? Why only partially fulfill the requests? Why tease me? I was slightly frustrated and mad at first, but then I realized something. If God wanted me stay in Poland, He showed me that He could make any of my requests happen… even a proposal. I did not doubt His ability to do any of it. The fact that He could, but didn’t, was all the more a confirmation that returning home was indeed the next step in this journey with Him. In my asking about confirmations to stay God went over and above and showed His will to me in a way that ceased all questions. I have not asked “what if…” once. I know my God’s got me, and I’m glad to be in His good and perfect will.

Międzyzdroje: Article 8

At the end of the evangelism tour with the theater group Dar, we spent the night at a brand new, not yet opened hotel called the Golden Tulip in Międzyzdroje. It is located five minutes from the Międzyzdroje beach on the Baltic Sea. This was a unique portion of the tour since it was not focused on evangelism, but was an opportunity to raise money for Dar.

One of the main managers knew Jarek and Monika Siech from theatre work they had done in Bydgoszcz. He was able to offer them the opportunity to help “sell” the apartments/hotel rooms to the investors who were coming the following day, before the actual grand opening. There were two apartments that the investors would be shown and our job was to act as though we were living in these rooms.

This was probably one of the most random, interesting, awkward experiences of my life. Monika and Jarek dressed as mimes and moved about one apartment as a married couple. Kinga, Carman, and I were dressed in our doll costumes and were to pantomime a family in the second apartment. Carman was the father, Kinga our dancing daughter, and I, of course, was the mother.

We arrived in Międzyzdroje around noon the day before our actual “performance,” so we got to explore a bit, walk the beach a little bit, and wait for Monika and Jarek to be finished with their meeting with all the bigwigs of the Golden Tulip. It was a fairly enjoyable day except for the fact that my immune system was still trying to conquer a nasty little sickness that had hit me the day before, so I was basically sleepwalking my way through the sightseeing. I was overjoyed when we were able to get into the rooms that we would be staying in for the night. I was in and out of sleep from the moment we found our rooms and I plopped myself on the comfortable, never before slept on bed. Pillows surrounded me and it was glorious.

One of the few times I was out of sleep was for the group meeting to explain what exactly was expected of us. While eating our Polish pizza, we were informed, by Jarek and Monika, of every little detail on how we were to act. If we did one thing that some of the top managers did not like, our mutual understanding with the hotel (since we were not given a written contract) could be terminated. With this knowledge, we realized there was a lot of practice and particulars we would have to go through, but that night, to my relief, we decided to just enjoy our slightly unfinished rooms and rest.

The next morning, with me feeling somewhat better, we gathered together for a Bible study and then spent quite a bit of time getting ready for that afternoon. We got acquainted with the apartments we would be showing and worked out the little kinks in our doll movements. The thing I struggled with the most was only interacting with the Dar members and never responding to the audience that would be coming through. This was difficult because we were told that we were only an enhancement to show off the perks that came with the rooms and were not to be distractions. This meant, we were not to respond to anything besides each other, but we were also not to be rude and ignore the investors. The line between playing our part and ignoring was difficult one to figure out.

With all our makeup and costumes on we waited anxiously in our separate apartments. Where Carman, Kinga, and I waited, there were also three others: two waitresses of sorts and one bartender, for the hotel had set up a bar on the balcony. We all stood in the living area chatting, but ready to scramble to our posts as soon as we would hear the elevator “ding.” I don’t remember how many false alarms we had.

The first group of investors came through the doors very loudly. They were all English speakers, though it was obvious that for most of them it wasn’t their first language. I spent the first few minutes of their tour in the bathroom doing short doll like movements that would point out different features and then pausing. After showing off the towel heating rack and the other fancy things I would walk into the kitchen and pretend to pour tea for my “husband.” It was basically all improve from there on. The groups would stay anywhere from 15-30 minutes in the apartments, and I would have to move, pause, not respond, smile, move pause, and figure out my next move, while trying not to do the same thing over and over again. Thankfully, most of the investors tended to enjoy their time at the bar more than spending the whole time exploring the apartment.

This first group also held one of the most awkward moments I have ever had. I was paused by the dishwasher in the kitchen, looking down at the teacup I had just placed in it, when an older gentleman approached. Trying not to respond to his obvious nearness I was staring as intently as I could when the gentleman grabbed my hand in his. He started to speak to me with a French accent, and since I assumed this was not one of those times I could ignore the guests, I looked at him in response. As our eyes met, he stepped back slightly taken aback.

“Your eyes,” he exclaimed, “They are so blue! They are perfect! They are blue! I am French. ”

It was my turn to be somewhat taken aback, and not knowing what to do I just smiled and nodded my head slightly.

Still holding my hand, he continued praising my eyes and commenting about how he was French. When the only response I could think to give him was the nodding of my head and the pleasant-June-Cleaver smile, he just squeezed my hand and said with a knowing smile, “I understand, it’s okay. I am French.”

It was one of the longest two minutes of my life, but thankfully the tour leader announced that it was time to leave. With one last squeeze the Frenchman let go of my hand and walked out the door. Once every last investor was gone I was free to laugh and shake off the awkwardness. Kinga, seeing a little of what had happened came to me laughing as well. After that, the rest of the evening seemed to be rather uneventful, though, I’m not sure if I’ve ever had so many random people take pictures of me.

Thinking back to this time of unusual and unexpected opportunity for provision, I realize that living this life is never boring. I never know what to expect from the things God calls me to do. It reminds me that His ways are higher than mine, and with a past as strange and awesome as I’ve got thus far in life, it only makes me even more wary and excited for the future.

Broken Buildings, Broken Heart: Article 7

All week I have been debating what to write about. There are many stories, but some are very personal and some are simply too hard to explain with just words. I am currently writing this article with the deadline looming just mere hours before me.

I am sitting at the Higher Grounds coffee shop in Remer, the part time job I’ve held since returning home in September. I’ve been browsing my pictures and reliving memories in between times of customers and cleaning. Thankfully, it has been a slow day. Otherwise there just might not have been an article this week.

As I peruse my Poland pictures I am reminded of all the history Poland has. There are old buildings filled with tales, cemeteries and old bunkers that weave legends of war and battles, and of course the patriotic people of Poland tell the stories as well. While I gathered many bits of detail, I learned that there is so much more in their history to be learned.

My last Monday in Poland we spent it exploring a few of the abandoned places. Between the Germans and the Soviets it’s hard to remember who built what and how long they were there. Bunkers edge cities. Not because the Polish were fighting with anyone, but because they were often the buffer between the USSR and Germany. That day we saw a couple old bunkers, a Russian cemetery, and an old officers building built by the Germans.

This last building was my favorite. It was a mess, but you could still see the grandeur that it must of held before bombs, abandonment, graffiti, and parties all left their mark. It was built in a circular fashion. There were very large rooms with high ceilings connected by curved corridors lined with offices and dorm rooms.

Upon first entering the building there was a round, domed room that connected to two different hallways and some stairs to enter into the second story. Bricks, doors, windows, cushions, and heaps of glass covered almost everywhere you looked. We easily spent over an hour following hallways, sticking our heads into rooms, climbing stairs, and imagining what the building must have been like before all this destruction was brought upon it.

After many rooms explored and stairs climbed we found ourselves outside in a large courtyard. It was almost impossible to not step on red ceramics and other building rubble since it was strewn so thickly across the ground. As I went around taking pictures to capture the sorrow and beauty of such a destroyed place, Kinga perused the rubbish piled on the ground until she found something unique. She held out for me to see a marred and broken piece of glass shaped undeniably as a heart. As I took a picture of her with this piece of glass, I found myself pondering the symbolism that it brought to mind.

Before I could think too much about it though, I met up with Monika (Kinga’s mother). She looked so troubled and sad that I had Kinga translate for me what was weighing her down. Monika and Jarek have desired to own a large building complex, in order to hold their dreams of a Christ-centered theatre, a theatre school, and a home for elderly and/or orphans. She explained her sorrow that such a perfect building for their dreams would be laying out unwanted and in ruins, while they had no resources to create it into what she could envision.
Again, I was hit with a great sense of something more meaningful was being spoken out here. I took my leave of everyone and struck out on my own to get a few more shots of the building and take some time to think.

As I climbed to the highest point I could I marveled at the beauty the building must have once held. It was designed for greatness. At that thought I realized that this building was a perfect example of us, we as humans.

We were initially designed and created for beauty and for greatness. We were meant for a purpose and built perfect for that purpose and when we fulfilled it, we would bring glory to the one who designed us. But before we humans could really live out this glory we were destroyed. Sin was brought in and flattened us useless. Since the Fall of Adam and Eve, we have been conceived with this design for greatness, but it is laid out as impossible to fulfill because of the sin we were born into.

While we’ve already been rendered seemingly inadequate, the destruction on our building doesn’t stop. Life brings people who leave their beauty and leave their scars on us. Through graffiti, drunken parties, blatant disrespect, and natural deterioration, the perfection we were created for that already seemed unreachable distances itself from us even further.

Just as Monika saw the beauty and the potential of this abandoned officers building, we sometimes can see what we were meant for. But just like Monika having the vision, but not having the resources, we find ourselves glimpsing what could be, but realizing there’s no way for us to be able to afford it.

The only way Monika and Jarek could ever have this building is if, by some miracle, it was given to them along with the crew to fix it up. The only way we could every have our hearts open for renewing is if someone paid the price and then gifted it back to us. The thing is, while Monika and Jarek haven’t yet been gifted with this building, we, as humans have a gift waiting for us.

As I walked down the stairs leading away from the front large double door entrance, I was overwhelmed by the realization of the initial depravity of my heart. More than that though, I was overcome with the rediscovering of the joy of Christ’s salvation. His sacrifice not only bought my broken, beaten, destroyed, useless heart, but He is continually building up, shaping, and cleaning it out so that it may once again display it’s originally designed glory. So that I may once again display my life’s originally designed glory—the glory of God shining in me.

About Poland: Article 6

When discussing with my mother what I should or should not share next in these articles, she mentioned I haven’t talked much about the Polish culture. That simply will not do, so guess what this article’s about!
As a little warning to you, the readers who may have gotten used to my style of writing, I will probably change my flow quite a lot in the next 1000 words. In all frankness this will be more or less a list of things I took notice of while in Poland concerning the Polish people. I also feel I must preface all that will be said with the understanding that not everything stated here is fact, but will be doused with a lot of my perspective.

The first thing I noticed about Poland was that it is very similar to Minnesota. The weather, the greenness, the lakes, some of the trees, and all of the natural sounds reminded me of being home. I do know that there are mountains in the southern portion of Poland, but as I was mostly in the northern part I never saw them. Where I was is slightly hilly, slightly flat, woodsy in some areas, and a lot of fields and space in between some big cities.

There was definitely more of a European “feel” in the bigger dwelling areas. Though, that is an obvious observation, it’s what it is. A mixture between old fancy buildings and blocky mass housing dressed in beiges, muted reds, and highlights of teals, blues, greens, and yellows, lined the streets that made no sense to me. Many of these streets and almost all the parking lots were paved with cobblestone (older areas) or these interesting puzzle like bricks. One of the translators told me that things were paved this way because it was more work, but less damaging/destructive to pull up a few “puzzle” pieces than tear up a whole road if maintenance or below surface work needed to be done.

Speaking of roads, Polish driving can be quite scary. Speeding seems to be the norm everywhere, but in Poland there were more than a couple times where a driver would be going twice the speed limit easily. The speeding isn’t the thing that scares me though. It’s the passing of cars that does. It’s not unusual to pass someone when there’s oncoming traffic. Supposedly the rule is that the passer drives down the middle while the other vehicles cradle the shoulder. I got used to this driving by the end of the month, but my first few experiences on the road made me want to piddle my pants.

As mentioned in a previous writing, parks are a part of every city I visited. They were usually situated near some sort of water. Each had an amphitheater. Some were dirty and unkempt; while others were gorgeous, spacious, and obviously well kept.
One of my favorite parts of Bydgoszcz is a bridge that crosses either the Brda or Vistula river (I forget which one). It is a tradition that couples that have gotten married bring a lock with their name or initials plus a date etched into it. They then lock it on the gate like sides of the bridge and throw their keys into the river below. There is a great mixture of typical and specially made locks crowding the gates. It’s beautiful.

A few articles ago, I mentioned a typical breakfast (one with bread, cheese, sandwich spreads, meats, tomatoes and cucumbers). Well, during breakfasts I got to use to eating slightly big, because lunches never came until about 2pm. Lunches are their biggest meal of the day. It is usually a hot meal with either meat, rice or potatoes, and some sort of veggie, or a soup followed by some sort of hot dish/casserole. Most of the food was a variation of something I would have in America, but were certain meals that were really different for me. One of the first lunches I was given was hot rice covered in applesauce and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. It wasn’t my favorite thing in the world, but it wasn’t too bad. Besides having more cabbage and coleslaw than I’ve ever had before, the only other odd meal to me was their enjoyment of fruit/berry soups (usually blueberry) and fruit/berry sauces that they put over rice.

I don’t think there was one day with the Siech family where there wasn’t at least one or two other people joining us for a meal or tea. Eating together as family and friends was evidently important. I do not know if this is a truth across the board for the Polish people or if it just was for the Polish Christians I met. There were usually people over for a tea/coffee break that happens between lunch and supper (which is either left-overs or the same as breakfast). A menagerie of treats usually accompanied tea and coffee. There could be little chocolates, different types of cakes, wafers with jam inside, these sugar puff things (really sweet), and hard cookies… I never had a soft cookie there.
Here are some other thoughts concerning Poland.

I dislike their bathrooms… especially old ones. There are windows in almost all of the doors, even ones to the shower. Even though they have a film on them or are rippled to conceal, it is still disconcerting considering that someone can tell you’re in there . Some of their toilets would only flush only once in a while, while others, from the war eras, had a “shelf” that would catch your waste, so you could look for worms in it. Gross.

 In dress, they are not that unusual from America… though I may say that they are less modest than we are… at least we as in the Midwest. I saw more guys in speedos, underwear, and short shorts than I ever have in my life. See through shirts weren’t that uncommon either. I was pleasantly surprised, though, that going sans makeup was quite normal.

They are a pretty patriotic people; flags and the Polish blue and white colors were everywhere. I never heard any of the people disrespect Poland like I hear Americans do concerning the U.S. all the time.

Their language is difficult, especially since each word has a few different ending depending on the gender, tense, and quantity of what you are talking about. It is similar to Greek in that aspect. I am actually hoping to learn this language, mostly because I am ever hopeful and excited to go back.

There’s so much more to say about Poland, but there are many things I don’t know how to describe. Overall, Poland is filled with wonderful, friendly people, and I love them. I hope this helps put a little perspective to your thoughts of Poland.

The Importance of Testimonies: Article 5

Testimonies are very important part to the Polish church. I don’t believe there was even one service or Bible study/prayer meeting where there wasn’t at least one testimony shared. I found myself giving my testimony at Camp Eden in Ocwieka the first Sunday I was there. I arrived at the Sunday morning church service just in time for worship to start.  I had to sit with Jan Tomczyk, who was the pastor and the man who spearheaded the camp, since he was also a great translator. Jan is also very good at seizing opportunities and since no one really knew me the opportunity to have me speak seemed great. He asked me to share a testimony.
Two other people said their testimonies before me, but as they were in Polish and I was slightly stressing about what to share I missed much of what was being translated for the few English speakers in the room. As soon as I went to the front with Jan, though, I knew what I was supposed to talk about.

I told them a little of how I was raised in an awesome Christian home with amazing parents. I spoke of my fairly pleasant childhood, but how in seventh grade I became sick and was then diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. I mentioned not only how it affected me, but also how I was healed from it… a great time in my life. It didn’t end there, though. Because of the weight gained from the sickness and the family moving away from the cities and my shyness, I felt as though I didn’t belong. These emotions on top of other stresses brought me to a time of depression and asceticism. A combination of certain events my freshman year of high school opened the door to self-mutilation and other acts of penance because I felt that I had to correct myself for my failings. Maybe then people would like me, maybe then God could truly be proud of me, and maybe then I would be worthy. It wouldn’t be until November of my junior year that I was able to stop the physical acts of penance and abuse I placed upon myself. The last night I cut I cried out to God and asked Him why it was so wrong, why I had to stop. Following my questioning came one of the clearest times of hearing God. He told me, “When you give yourself scars, it is like saying that the scars I took for you weren’t enough.” It was there I began my journey of trying to understand God’s grace and mercy. It was there that I was truly able to accept God’s help… cause I knew I didn’t deserve it, but I didn’t have to.
My testimony prompted those in the service to pray for their youth. If I, a pastor’s daughter, could buy the lie that I couldn’t tell anyone of my struggles or that I must hurt myself in order to feel perfected, than their children were not exempt from these lies as well. It was such an honor to hear the prayers (even if I couldn’t understand most of them) that were raised on behalf of the youth.

I shared that portion of my testimony a few more times following that Sunday. I shared it with the Siech family, who were at a different church in Bydgoszcz while I was in Ocwieka. I told it one afternoon in Janikowo, while a group of us sat on a trampoline talking about how awesome God is and what He’s done in our lives. And then again, in Szczecinek, during our ministry time in the park I was able to speak of God’s amazing grace and mercy.

It was in Szczecinek that I realized how important my testimony was. You see, in Poland, about 98% of the population call themselves Catholics, but not fully Catholic like we’re used to here in the States. It is run with fear and immense control. Penance, indulgences, and other works are thought the way to earn salvation. While I wasn’t raised this way, I had gotten into my head that I had to earn salvation; I had to self-punish myself in order to be a pleasing before God and myself. Because of this old belief system, I had a connecting point with some of those who listened to my testimony. I was able to share about God’s grace. How He paid for everything. How He gave everything. How we can never, ever earn salvation, but how we don’t have to because He paid the price.

I don’t know the direct outcome of that time in Szczecenik, but I was able to look into some of the faces of those who listened. I remember a couple of people who seemed to really hear all my translated words. It was there I realized how much I loved these Polish people. It was there I realized I could understand them. I knew what it was like to live in fear, condemnation, and under the weight of perfectionism. I knew what it was like to feel hopeless. It was there I realized I had something to give them, for I not only knew hopelessness, but I also knew the resurrection of hope. I knew the power of grace and depth of love God has for us. It was there I realized I wanted to share this with everyone. It was there that all those feelings and emotions became alive to me again, and it was there that I was able to rejoice in God for His continued mercy, grace and love poured over me. It was there I saw the strength and power of a testimony.

Pantomiming Across Poland: Article 4

After 10 days of preparing, we had our first performance at Camp Eden in Ocwieka on August 11^th. We arrived at the camp in time for lunch and I got to see Russ and Doris, whom I had not seen since first going to Bydgoszcz. It was interesting as the time drew nearer for our performance. While, I felt I knew all my parts well, we had only run through the whole thing three times and only once with lighting and full music which were a good portion of our cues. I also had never been in full costume or knew how to do my makeup. There were many reasons to feel anxious, but as my face began to get covered in stage makeup and I heard all the excitement resonating from the Polish voices, I too began to feel excitement.
In a little more than twenty minutes we were done with our performance of “Sen Lalkarza.” In those twenty minutes my love for acting was awakened again and was reminded that every little action can and does affect the future and the lives around. In twenty minutes you can give someone a memory, a lesson, a promise, a new perspective, a goal, and a hope. And while Camp Eden was filled with those already following Christ, I realized in twenty minutes we reminded them of the great love and sacrifice that God gave for us. It was also in these few minutes that I realized we were ready to go into Poland with this simple, but great truth.

That night we returned to Bydgoszcz and the following day, after church, we went to a local amphitheater in a nearby park. We set up for a Polish musical called “Puzzle,” and yes, it means the same as our word “puzzle.”  The musical is about a little girl who is angry with her friends for not wanting to play with her. She overhears that a toy box of new toys has just been set down next to a large puzzle and she comes up with a plan to steal some of the toys to make her friends jealous of her. When she opens up the toy box there are no ordinary toys inside it. One at a time each one comes alive and they help to solve the puzzle while slowly changing her life’s view. With each puzzle piece the toys reveal, more of the gospel is presented to the many kids who were at the amphitheater. At the end of it all, Misha, the girl, gave her life to Jesus with an opportunity for all in the crowd to join her.

“Puzzle” was one performance I was not able to be in since it involved mouthing Polish, and I am not able to do that. J There was more than just acting that we did during our ministry, though. Each place we set up we did one or both of the dramas and also had some form of music performance to go with it. The usual set list was “Puzzle,” musical interlude (either some Polish rappers or some live Christian music), a testimony or two, and every time, but once, we ended with “Sen Lalkarza.” At one city we ended the evening with a fire show that included dancing on stilts while fighting with fire. I never became that good on stilts and the idea of being on them with fire frightened me, so during this performance I was in charge of putting out the fires that were no longer in use.
When we didn’t have the Polish rappers I played the piano for the singers during the music time. A couple times I even got to sing some English songs. One such song that I am proud to say got some of the singers to translate into Polish was “Break Every Chain” by United Pursuit Band.

After singing I gave a testimony that was translated by one of my friends, Konrad. After giving a testimony, I realized why God wanted me in Poland. Because of the language barrier there were times I was confused as to what my purpose really was. As I stood on the stage in Szczecinek I realized my younger years were filled with the same struggles as many of these people. Being brought up in a pre-reformation form of Catholicism, many of the Polish people have a faith based on fear and on works and how much you can give to get out of Purgatory. Similarly, most of my teen years were filled with me trying to earn the favor of God. I was able to quote and say that Christ was my salvation and that I’m saved by grace and faith, but I didn’t believe it. As I explained how God taught me of His love and His plan of salvation and His freedom, I could see a few faces in the crowd very intrigued by my story. I don’t know how much came from it, but I know that God used that time and I was greatly honored.
So during this time of ministry there was lots learned, lots given, lots received, lots of tiredness, life of excitement and energy, lots of friend making, and lots of growing. So many stories I could tell from these times. Stories that include the fun of dressing like a clown in order to get people’s attention, the stress and growth that came of a friend being hospitalized, the few confirmed salvation stories, the many kids that loved to play tag, or barak, and many funny little happenings that came upon us every day. There are a lot more lessons I could share with you. There are a lot more friends I’d like to introduce you to. Maybe now that you know much of the basics from my time in Poland, I will be able to share all this with you.