Are there any foreigners in your town to whom you could be a blessing today?

While home in the US, I spoke in a couple of churches. During one service, I became aware of a new associational missions program. It reminded me of a devotional that I wrote years ago that I will share below. Missionaries are not the only ones that miss home; foreigners that live in our American neighborhoods do, too. The question is: Are we sharing the Gospel with those around us? Our family travels overseas to a foreign land to minister. How many of us are ministering in the States right next door? Since I have been home, I have had the opportunity to witness to people from other cultures. The numbers of internationals are increasing even in small towns like mine (population 3000). Praise the Lord churches are working in the community to sponsor mission-oriented programs within the geographical boundaries of the city!

a city prepared for us

Path Light: Read Hebrews 11:9-15

Key Passage: By faith he traveled in the promised land, like foreign soil, living in tents… Because he looked for a city with foundations built and made by God… and confessed that they were foreigners on earth. For by saying this, they are plainly declaring that they’re looking for another land. -Hebrews 11:9-10, 13b

Some of my missionary friends and I struggle with the fact that we do not have homes of our own. Many of us have the desire to build a house, decorate it, and work in our yards planting flowers. “Normal” people do.

There have been times when I have tried to pinpoint my momentary restlessness and wondered if having a permanent place would satisfy my desires. Then I am forced to look at realty and focus on my heavenly home which is all that matters.

We know that God is preparing a place for us. Why do we sometimes long for a place to call home? Because within us is the desire to not feel as aliens and strangers. Within us is the desire to reside in the city that has been prepared for us-our heavenly home.

Path Application:
This week focus on the heavenly city. Let us not think of the country that we have left. Let us look for the better one.

Walk Farther:
1. How do you think the Israelites felt when they lived in tents for so long?
2. How do you handle feelings of homesickness or longing to be somewhere else?
3. Are there any foreigners in your town to whom you could be a blessing today?
A Winter‘s Path, path 23, L. Burch

Reflecting Back 10 years

Our tent is now pitched in Moscow. How can I begin to share with you about our move? I have been puzzled about this for days. The only place I know to start is 10 years ago. I know that the Lord has many things to teach us in the future. Taking a look back from time to time may help me to be prepared for what is ahead. By reviewing the lessons I learned, I could be more equipped for the task. Simply walking down memory lane is just plain fun, too.

Many of you probably know by now that I have started a new writing project. For years I have journaled a few events of our missionary experience. I have been encouraged by family and friends to organize these thoughts; however, I am not fully sure how to take on this new endeavor. I came to the conclusion that sometimes a person needs to listen to these little hints and just act upon them even though one might feel incompetent. Below is a short excerpt from that journal chapter entitled “where the path led us” (10 years ago):

“From Georgia, USA, we transferred planes in Germany. The plane ride from Frankfurt was rough, and the turbulence was difficult. The AC went out. I had to take deep breaths. Then I exited the largest plane I had ever flown in and planted my feet on Russian soil in Moscow about 1:30 PM on a Monday in August of 1998. Foreign soil. Interestingly it was about 85 degrees that day, very hot and humid. My four year old daughter, Ashlyn, asked, “But where is the snow?” We all had on about three to four layers of clothing expecting frigid weather. However, within a few days, the temperature had dropped to 52 degrees.

We were moved to the front of the line at passport control because of our small children. After we stepped out of customs, I looked around for the first time and all I saw was the color grey. That is somehow the way I felt. I did not know what to expect, what to think, or what to do. I was just there. Then the next thing I knew I was riding down a polluted street filled with old cars that looked as if they were made in the 1960s, and the only thing I could do was watch building after building pass. They all looked the same to me.

I will continue to describe my first impressions. With my two daughters and husband, we traveled to a small apartment that was to be our home for the next month. We pulled up on the north side of town to a run down building with graffiti all over the walls. We walked up a flight of stairs with all of our luggage and footlocker trunks and entered a coded door that slammed behind us. We proceeded up a flight of stairs and stepped into a soviet style lift. The bars closed on us, and we traveled upward to our destination on the third floor. The only city that I could possibly relate it to was New York City. I had heard about the Bronx but never lived there.

The apartment complex was next to a main street and housed thousands of people…Then I walked through to the kitchen and found that our missionary colleagues had left us a basket full of goodies. I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and decided that I was going to make it.

Though I was exhausted from traveling nearly 24 hours, I began my duties as a mother to get the house ready for my family. After cleaning the apartment of plaster particles [recently remodeled bathroom], I distinctly remember finding a bag of freshly washed sheets on our bed. I opened the sack and covered my face with the smell of fresh fabric softener. Thanks missionary family! I once again thought I would survive. Here are some of my thoughts from the first few days in county.

I’m getting used to life here. We can only do about one major thing a day as it takes hours to get anywhere. Just a ride on the metro (underground subway) and bus and back takes three hours. And that’s the fastest way! We went to McDonald’s today. Unfortunately on the way home, we got on the wrong bus, and it carried us a wrong turn. We had to walk a little extra. On each street going in a certain direction, there is a specific number on the bus. You must get on the right one. We are definitely getting good exercise walking.

I bought some chicken for the first time today. It’s funny. You have to look for what you want, write it down how much it cost, what department it is in, go to another place to pay for it, show your receipt to the product-person, and finally get your items. No grocery sacks either. You have to bring your own bags. But most everything that we need is right here around us. Don’t know what it will be like in Bryansk.

Buck’s having difficulty adjusting to the dairy products; they’re shelved, not chilled. 1.8% milk tastes a lot like buttermilk. The cheese is the same way. Uncle Rufus was right about the shelf milk. However, Amielle (my two year old daughter) loves the milk because it tastes very sweet.

It took me four hours to fix supper last night. When I had opened and closed the oven door, the pilot light went out. I did not know. I wash all the vegetables in diluted Clorox water. Everything here takes time. However, I’m faster today. I think I’m getting used to it.
-Journal August 8-9, 1998

In many ways God showed us that we were welcome in Russia. The Russian people had been smiling at us and talking to the kids as we traveled on the streets of Moscow. A few days after our arrival, a Russian lady we did not know selling flowers handed Ashlyn a small bouquet and a little old lady chased us down the street to hand the kids some old coins from the former Soviet Union. The missionaries said that this never happened.

In our first few days in the country, we had attended a Russian church service that lasted for two hours. The services were held in a hallway of an apartment complex with a few rooms on the side. We could not understand anything in the language or the customs. The language is going to be hard.

Out of kindness a Russian babushka (grandmother) shared the hymn book with me. A missionary friend translated that I could not read Russian. I will never forget. The lady looked at me and said, “You will.” Then she kissed me on the cheek. My first Russian kiss.
-The Chosen Path, L. Burch, 2008

“run the race”

As I often jog for exercise, I recall this short devotion.

Read Hebrews 12
Key Passage: …let’s run the race ahead- Hebrew 12:1b

Everything that we do, we should do it well. Give it our best. Before getting to the halfway point in the 5k that I marked out for my regular run, I sometimes think that I just cannot go any further. Then I pass the mark, take a few deep breaths, control my breathing, slow the pace down a little, and focus on the last leg of the course. I continually have to remind myself that the race is not something for me to fret over but enjoy and live as I take each leap. Sometimes our course has difficult points that we really must focus on in order to maintain our pace and other times we have moments for enjoying the scenery when the adrenaline “kicks in”.

Our ministry “stretch” where we serve is often the same. After living on the field for a number of years, I have learned to enjoy each leap in the course set before me. When I realize that each situation, each day, and each moment is given by God, I can put in perspective the awesome race that I have been given the opportunity to endure.

Application:
Exercise to keep your stress level at a minimum, to physically feel great, to cognitively function sharper, to psychologically control emotions better, and to spiritually be disciplined. Run your race with joy, enthusiasm, and just LIVE as you endure the goal set before you!

Walk Farther:
1. Find time this week to walk, jog or run. As you are going, think about what it means to run the race in your spiritual life.
2. How is your spiritual journey like a race?
3. What is the prize for winning this race?

-A Winter’s Path, #21, L. Burch

My Little Prayer (video by Luke)

Many of you have used the stories and prayers from my "children's perspective" postings in your missions classes. You many now click on a very short video and share Luke's Little Prayer. We thank you for your continued support through prayer and for your encouraging e-mails. God Bless!

Behind "Closed" Doors

As I climb the stairs to my apartment on the 11th floor, I see many closed apartment doors. Unfortunately I rarely meet the people behind them. This saddens me. Things are always so still; things are hidden.

Since the time of Lenin and Stalin, Russia has changed in many ways. However, in small ways the culture is still the same. These leaders led the society to become communal. I still see evidence of the same system today. For example, I watched part of a soviet film yesterday and was amazed how some of the buildings and streets have not changed that much. The film depicted how the strong ruled over the weak. Some people did not concern themselves with the struggle; they seemed to simply exist.
I see a portion of society still living this way. People who lived during the communist regime are now approaching the elderly age. Many stay to themselves unless confronted. They seldom reach out first. I am not stereotyping the system as a whole. There are always exceptions. When an opportunity does arise to meet someone, generally I start the conversation first.

As I ponder these thoughts and put things into perspective, I am reminded of my grandmother who is now 92. As a young person, she lived during the time of the Great Depression in the States. She never forgot those days. My mother and I were cleaning out her cabinets one day and found stacks and stacks of canned tomatoes and multiple can openers. Of course, many cans had expired, and I wondered why the many can openers. Ready to throw the extra away and get rid of the old, I did not seem to understand the real story. My grandmother jumped into the picture and said that the items must be kept, because she may need them one day. Having remembered the days when times were tough and when there was a shortage of everything, she did not want to be left without ever again. I guess those same cans and stacks of can openers are still sitting in her cupboard today. I must remember how events affect people and accept them for who they are.

As I try to befriend my neighbors in this culture, I sometimes wonder the best way to approach those around me. I still question why I rarely see the people who live right next door. Why are things hidden? Why is it so hard to reach out to others? This is somewhat of a mystery.

A long time ago I came to the realization that behind many “closed” doors are many opportunities. People are willing to communicate. The timing just must be right. A relationship needs to be established— some common bond. We must discover how we are similar. I always try to find even small ways that we relate. Most importantly I must be ready for the perfect moment. I pray I never miss those chances.

The other day I sensed the Lord wanting me to speak to my neighbor, the one right next door. I have spoken to her many times before. We have tried to befriend her, invited her to tea, taken her gifts and just tried to show her we cared. For some reason I could not cross the invisible bridge into her life or so called territory. Of course, when the Lord asks me to do something, I cannot refuse. Therefore, I tried again to enter her world. I rang the doorbell not knowing what response I was going to get. She came to the door with that look and tone: “What do you want?” I broke right through the tension with a smile on my face and said that we were boxing up our things to move from St. Pete in a few weeks. She frowned and voiced that she was disappointed. She went on to share that our kids were great kids.

I saw that as an opening to share the Gospel. I commented, “They are good kids, because we read the Bible everyday.”

I then asked, “Do you have a Bible?”

She responded, “Yes, but I rarely read it.”

Somehow my bold side crept up. After discovering that she had a Bible, I bluntly said, “Then you need to read it. And one of the easiest places to start is in one of the Gospel letters— John.”

I continued the conversation by quoting John 3:16. I shared what the Lord means to me and how He died for all on the cross. We had a great time talking together. She willfully listened. We were able to talk about the importance of a personal relationship with the Lord. I explained how our assurance cannot be based on what particular “faith” we claim. I prayed with her right in our doorway. The timing just seemed right.

When I returned home, I thanked God for the opportunity. I treasure those moments and wish there were a million more. It is necessary to practice patience when timing is of essence. The next time I pass an empty, dark, lifeless, quiet hallway, I will pray for those who live behind the “closed” doors. They need Him, too

Teach to Teach

As many of you know, the past few weeks our family has taught English as a Second Language classes at the local Baptist church we attend. The entire family participated in some way. I taught the beginners class, Buck led the advance class in a Bible study, Ashlyn took part in an introductory lesson, Amielle assisted in writing the notes on the board and Luke helped by passing out candy during tea times. What a joy we had serving together!

When the class began, we pushed forward to help the students learn English. I think it was a success, but there was a greater, underlining success if one realized what was actually taking place, precisely what goal was developing in the hearts of the believers. Step-by-step Buck led the advanced speakers through a simple inductive Bible study method. And, step-by-step they began to understand and to accept this new way of studying the Bible. Our prayer was for them to realize that this method could be used at home or in a small group setting. A faithful core group of 6-8 now feel prepared to not only continue with their English learning but also prepared to lead a study. We do not know exactly what God has planned for these dear ones, but they are excited about studying His Word in this manner and entertaining the thought of teaching others.

My heart was blessed as 3-4 ladies stood around me to tell me “goodbye” as we are moving from St. Pete the first of June. God turned the conversation around from just saying farewell, and we joyfully talked about how to use this method with the lost. I shared about my experiences with leading small women’s groups and my opportunities of praying with others who desired to lead groups. May our efforts of teaching others be passed on so that others will teach! May God use these precious believers to share their faith with their lost friends!

Two Steps at a Time

I want to expand on my thoughts about our plight to stay in country. Having already explained the process (in a post below), shared how I know that God is in control and committed our lives to Him because we know He is in charge, I feel I must paint a picture for you about the steps that I am taking. Actually the steps come slowly and the way is hard to see.

Remembering several years ago when our family lived a city about eight hours outside of Moscow, I can vividly recount the spiritual battles that we sometimes endured while serving there. When I was a teenager, I had a pastor that took the time to teach our youth group about spiritual warfare. Maybe I had even experienced it to some degree during those years, but not to this magnitude. Of course, while at a learning center for missionaries in the States, we had a few seminars about it before we came to the field. I had heard stories about other missionaries experiencing such a thing, but many of those missionaries live and work with tribal communities where witchcraft is practiced. Definite battles and fights with the enemy are apparent in those types of surroundings.

Our area is different, yet somewhat the same. There was a constant, dark shadow that lingered around us. There were no professing witch doctors or such, but the majority of the people were so wrapped up in superstition and pagan practice that false worship and mystical belief led them on the path to Hell. The general population accepted that Jesus Christ was born, but they had no personal relationship with Him. Many trusted the reading of the stars, the lighting of a candle or the kissing of an icon in prayer to save or direct them.

It was as if I were a soldier on my knees crawling through a maze of smoke, not knowing where to go. The bullets and darts were flying past— circumstances, pressures, stresses, sicknesses, etc. I knew that I was going to get hit. And, I did. But, I had to continue moving forward regardless of the wound and unpreventable scar. Unfortunately I could not see the captain to know where to go. Oh, but I heard His voice. If I listened very carefully, I would hear a sound, a faint whisper: “Come this way.” I proceeded in that direction. Then there was no sound, that is, His voice. I could only hear the sounds of battle. Out of nowhere I heard His voice, the great captain that He is, again and knew where to retreat. Then finally I found my way to calm ground.

Today the battle raging is quite different, yet similar. Praise the Lord that my vision is clearer. I can see the captain. Maybe over the years, I have learned how not to get lost in the smoke. I have learned better how to keep my eyes on Him and do all I can to not get hit; though, sometimes I understand that things are beyond our control. However, He does give us wisdom if we ask for it. Oh, how I pray for wisdom!

I see Him. He is crouched down. I must do the same. It seems that I do not hear as much noise encircling me. Thankfully I am better trained, because I have allowed myself to be taught. I know I have more to learn, because I cannot see like He can. I trust. He took a step. I take a step. I clearly see He moved again. I move again. The pace is slow. The way is safe. I just do not know where I am going. But, I know this: He does! Therefore, I move one step at a time. Today I sense that we are moving one step at a time, maybe two. I will be honest. It is not easy being unable to fully see, but I press forward because I trust in the One who leads.

-The Chosen Path, journal entry 2008, L. Burch