Broken Words and Broken Hearts

On Tuesday, I returned from my second mission trip to Slovakia. While my trip last year was amazing and eye-opening in its own way, this year's trip was simply incredible. I am having trouble completely processing it. I'm not sure I will ever completely process it. This writing is merely a first attempt, a leap off a cliff with an uncertain landing. I'll be putting my journal from the trip into electronic form and posting it somewhere here,  but for now, I wanted to give more of an overview of what God did and continues to do through our time in eastern Europe.

First of all, the synergy between the Slovak leaders and our American team was palpable this year. In our first sessions together in Zilina, we had some worship time together that was simply unforgettable. The burden of God's call on my life was never felt so strongly, and I didn't find out until later how many others in our group were in tears, just as I was. Surely there is no worship so true as when your context fades around you, and you are simply before the throne. The stage had been set, and we were ready for a week of making God's great name known.

Once we arrived at the camp, I was greeted by all the leaders I had worked with last year. It was so encouraging, and put me in a great frame of mind for the students to arrive. That evening and the next morning, we made final preparations for the students to arrive. I'll say it here to save saying it later: the level of preparedness from both teams was off the charts this year. I know many people will talk about not boxing in the Holy Spirit and being flexible, but there is a lot to be said for having the little things all taken care of. I like to think of it this way: we're clearing off the dance floor so the Spirit can move freely!

The next day, the students arrived. I hardly have words for our students this year. We had nearly 70 kids, and it was a much younger group than last time around. But from the beginning, they seemed ready to open up to us. By the first night, one student had already shared with me about his tortured relationship with his father. My English group connected within a couple of days, and began having meals together and sitting together at any group events. I’ve grown close with individual kids at camps plenty of times, but I don’t think I have ever had a small group feel like a family this way. Perhaps most moving was David, a 23-year-old in my group (and an exception to the youthfulness of most of the camp) who had never taken an English class in his life. It turns out he was already a believer, and he helped to galvanize our group with his energy and his enthusiasm for both our lessons and our team activities. It caught me unaware and melted my heart when, on the last day of camp, he told me, with some effort, “God bless you.”

That is perhaps the best way to segue to the end of the camp. The emotions I’m working through this year are even stronger than last summer. Knowing how many of these kids have made a decision to follow Christ, or to rededicate themselves to him, it’s extremely difficult to then leave them behind. While the Slovak leaders in Presov are an amazing group, many of these students bond in a special way with the American team, and for me, I could hardly fault them for feeling a sense of abandonment. All we can do is continue to point them back to Christ, encourage them to join small groups in the city, and lift them up and stay in contact via Facebook. Above all, I am painfully aware of the need for believers to have a strong support structure.

Still, my connection with Slovakia has grown infinitely stronger. The last night, we had to wait until after 2am for our bus to arrive. Many of the students stayed with us for as long as they could, and it seemed like every 15 minutes, one of my kids had to head home. Each farewell was like tearing open the same wound, with no time to heal in between. Julo…Janka…David…Kamila…part of me wanted it to just end, while deep down, I knew I wanted to spend every waking moment with as many of these kids and leaders as possible. When our bus finally came, the final separation was like nothing I’ve ever had to deal with. Monika…Milos…Andrea…Marianna…I found it almost impossible to pull away. In that moment, nothing felt as much like home as that little café in Slovakia. Marianna’s pleas for me not to cry were most certainly futile; on the bus, the floodgates opened as if they could never be closed again. Only sleep brought any peace, and I am only now beginning to revisit these feelings, to embrace them.

For what else can I do? While God showed me many things this week and challenged me in exciting new ways, perhaps the most visible lesson was learned in those last few moments, tearfully drawing my dear friends – nay, family – to my chest, next to a quiet street in the stillness of a Slovak night. That our emotions, while they should not rule us, are a gift from God, and something to experience as part of our very humanity. And that by their very nature, they are fleeting and not to be missed:

“…weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” – Psalms 30:5

So while I will never be able to escape my attempts to be rational in my approach to my faith, I am learning to tap into the pure joy of living in Him. As Dominika told us at the farewell party, God paints us a new sunset every evening. Surely a God who knows even when a sparrow falls in the field cares infinitely for His children. May the joy of trusting and resting in Him show through in my actions and my words, in life and on this page.

My love and God’s blessings to you all, until our next meeting.