The General

I had never heard a Russian General speak.  I now know, based on a sample size of one, that they are loud and every word they utter has a purpose. 

The one I heard was retired, but still leading.  He was speaking to the majority of the Family Camp attendees and he was exhorting them to get involved with the work at TCC – to invest their time, treasure and talent to get the facility up to its fullest capacity.  He used our team as an example – indicating that “The Americans” paid their own way and are working on a building that their families will never use while he and his Russian peers attend camp with their families and enjoy the grounds.  He boldly indicated that the congregation has been making excuses to avoid the work for years and said it was time to get their hands dirty and get involved.    

He apologized to anyone he might have offended, handed the microphone back to Pastor Vadim, and walked out of the big tent where the family camp closing celebration was being held. 

His words hung in the air as a few more folks stood up and thanked the kitchen staff and the group of families for a great week.  While I don’t know if his thoughts landed on the hearts of the campers, I know they burrowed into several of our team members.  Including me.

The General enjoying the camp area with his family. 
He was much louder than he looks. :)

I’m still trying to process his words, but there are a couple of things that struck me:

His exhortation could have easily been given to me at home.  What the General didn’t know is that traveling to Russia is easier for me than helping my real neighbor.  Going to a foreign place to do physical work has its challenges, but they are seemingly exciting ones that make for good story.

Helping your unbelieving neighbor or your local congregation is physically easier, but not as religiously sexy or, in many ways, nearly as comfortable.  We cram our lives so full of activity that it’s next to impossible to squeeze anything that matters into it.  As the General said:  we make excuses.



It felt like he understood the heart of our team and it felt good to hear someone that shared a powerful vision for TCC.  Words can’t express the heart-level connection that several of us felt as we heard him speak.  It gave us hope that someone local could step in and keep the momentum going after we’re gone.



That same night, I spoke with Pastor Vadim thru an interpreter and told him how much I appreciated the General’s words and reminded him that our team was made up of unskilled laborers – not concrete experts.  It was a feeble attempt to encourage him – intended to communicate that they have the talents they need within their congregation already.  At the time, I honestly felt like I was either offending him or that my words were falling on deaf ears.  

Over the next 24 hours, the General sought out each and every member of the team to say a personal thank you for coming and working on their church’s behalf.  A firm and deliberate hand shake combined with a thank you in broken English from this powerful personality felt like a significant gift to each of us. 

Before he left, I ran him down one more time to thank HIM for his words and to give him a beat up copy of a team photo.  He graciously accepted the gift as he departed.

While I can’t guarantee that they came based on the General’s words, we had two Russian volunteers on our doorstep Monday morning.  They helped us shovel rock and do the finishing work in the final room of the project.  It was a microcosm of the potential of partnership: Russians & Americans working side by side to pursue impact for the Kingdom. 

With about two wheel barrows of concrete to go prior to being able to call our work complete, we received the news that the General had died in his sleep the night before.  It shifted what would have been a natural celebration of the milestone, to a time marked by some of the most mixed emotions many of us will ever feel.   

At that moment, the words that were planted in my head were clear: “It’s not about you.”  We weren’t intended to celebrate the work of our hands, we were intended to celebrate the work that the Lord had done in our hearts and the ongoing work he’s doing in the lives of His Russian church. 

There isn’t a clean ending to this one.  It remains to be seen how the General’s last words will ultimately land on the ears and hearts of his congregation as well as the ongoing impact they’ll have in my life.  I’m grateful that I had the opportunity to meet him, be challenged by his passion, and look for practical ways to make an impact at home in response. 

A Wee Bit o' Spiritual Warfare

Spiritually speaking, Russia just felt flat-out dark to me; from the time that I stepped off the plane in Moscow to the time I stepped back onto a plane headed for London at the end of the trip. There were definitely lights in that darkness at Family Camp and at church in Tambov, but the country as a whole quite simply had a wholly different feel than home. 

C.S. Lewis’ book Screwtape Letters chronicles writings from an experienced devil (Screwtape) to his young apprentice (Wormwood) as he provides advice for guiding his “patient” (a typical human like you or I) toward poor decisions and, ultimately, an appointment with hell.   It’s a powerful text that flips spiritual discussion on its ear.  Good stuff. 

It was with this book in mind that I envision my local St Michael devil emailing his Russian equivalent to inform him of my insecurities, fears, and points of shame in advance of my trip – a handing off of the torch as I temporarily relocate between their respective territories:

“Dear Lenka,

Please make sure to leverage his self-inflicted thoughts of weakness upon arrival.  No need to push the topic – let him do the work for us.  He’ll naturally isolate himself from the other men which will make it that much easier to derail him and avoid the growth we’re at risk of him experiencing while he’s on your soil.

I have itemized a few shame points below – review them and use them as you see fit…

        <details removed>

… remember that he responds best to subtle distractions.  This trip undoubtedly has the potential to awaken him from the suburban spiritual slumber that I have worked so hard, and for so long, to achieve.  (Note:  the logistical difficulties we have placed in the team’s path may have been a bit much.  I hoped they’d give up and we could avoid this transition work… I apologize if I have created any hurdles for you by waking them up in advance of the journey.)  

That said, I’d suggest using his philanthropic pride to distract him from any potential change that’s meaningful to The Enemy.  He doesn’t even recognize that the only place he gives from is his excess, and he happens to love a compliment more than most.  Pat him on the back and get him focused on himself.  Works every time. 

Sincerely, Damian”

 

She must have either misread or disregarded the instruction, because Lenka came on strong with the darkest and most horrible dreams I've ever experienced.  They centered on the itemized list of shame points and probably would've successfully side-tracked me if they hadn't been so over-the-top horrible.  So much for subtle.

Ultimately, I shared the nature of my evening battles with my team and, with their help, I was able to identify the dreams as the lies that they were.  The 3rd night they occurred I found myself declaring Victory over them and they receded for the remainder of the trip.  If I hadn't experienced it first-hand, I'd be skeptical that it could occur the way it did.    

Moral o’ the story = God doesn’t guarantee us comfort.  But He guarantees us His love.  He knew that I was asleep and He allowed the Enemy to do the work of waking me up while He remained steadfast and prepared to use the experience for His purposes.   Acknowledging it as a legitimate battle, and witnessing the ways that God loved on me thru others while it was happening, provided heart-level learning that I pray I won’t soon forget.

The Bucket

I’m a 42 year old that tends to think he has the physical strength of a gangly adolescent.  I’ve got a couple of partially herniated discs in my lower back which I normally use as legitimate excuses to avoid heavy lifting. 

The trip to Russia was a deliberate choice to stretch my physical self and work side-by-side with men doing stereotypically manly work.  It was a big deal for me and I was honestly afraid when I said yes. 

So, over a period of about 4 months, I lost 15-20 pounds of flubber, ran a few 5Ks, and carried weights up and down the stairs in preparation for the trip.  I didn’t want to be the weak one. 

A week before I left, I pushed my preparation a little too hard while the muscles were stiff and it caused my back to go into spasm.  After envisioning myself landing in a Russian hospital, I almost bowed out of the trip altogether.  

A good friend gave me some great advice: “Decisions based on fear usually aren’t the best & I’ve regretted most of them.”   I decided to trust God and go – tight muscles and all.

I was tentative the first couple of days – focusing on low impact activities that didn’t force the issue (sweeping instead of lifting, etc).  I added value, but I wasn’t accomplishing the goals I had established for the trip.   Recognizing the situation, I took what felt like a personal risk and asked the team to integrate me into the heavy lifting.  They heard me and they proactively invited me in. 

When I learned about "The Bucket", I started to think exclusion might be wiser. Three guys on the ground fill up this 8’x4’x4’ metal-dumpster-lookin’ thing  with sand or rock, and a crane suspends it 20-25 feet in the air next to a little balcony on the 3^rd floor.   A guy from the 3^rd floor hops into The Bucket and empties it one pail at a time, as quickly as possible.  Oh yeah… it’s also 90 degrees outside and, depending upon the time of day, you might get the bonus prize of the sun baking your back while you work.   

They didn’t ask me to do it.  But, for me, The Bucket became the symbol for taking a risk and being a man.  I indicated that I was getting in and didn’t turn back.  Fill, Lift, Grab an Empty, Fill, Lift, Grab an Empty, Fill, Lift, Grab an Empty… repeat.   Hard work meant for a man.  <insert Tim Allen grunting noises here>

It was the best 10-or-so minutes of the trip up to that point.  I gained my own respect in that bucket.  I became an equal in my own eyes (probably the only set of eyes that didn’t already see me as one).  

I didn’t shrink back from physical labor the rest of the trip and I’m thankful that I didn’t give into fear and walk away.   I would have missed out on an amazing experience. 

Ephesians 6:10-13Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.  Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.  For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.  Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.