The Power of the Good News

Saturday I brought 6 of our Iraqis to church: Arazoo (17) who comes regularly now, Halo (9), Alaa (6) and Um Alaa, and Omed (12) and Um Omed (Halo, Alaa, and Omed are our three latest arrivals for heart surgery from Iraq). The families are each given a Kurdish or Arabic New Testament when they come to stay with us, and they had not seen a Christian worship service before. Outside it was the most extreme weather I’d seen in Israel yet, freezing cold, gusty winds, hail, and claps of thunder that made me wonder what kind of idolatry could provoke God to such a fury. It was perhaps more actually blessing in disguise as Israel has really needed the rain, and each thunder clap made the prayer, the worship, the preaching poignantly emphatic.

Because the nature of Jerusalem Christian churches involve a lot of people coming and going the pastor asks who is here for the first time and they are acknowledged by the congregation. Our visitors received a lot of attention as you can imagine, both because they’re not Christians, but also because of the situation they come out of, the fact that this congregation prays for Shevet Achim and its patients regularly, and because Arazoo who they had prayed for previously had since had her surgery and was doing much better. They were made to feel very at home by one of speakers leading a liturgy who addressed them in Kurdish with “choney boshey” which loosely translates to something like “how are you, good?” to which both mothers jumped up, seemingly very pleased to hear these words, raised their hand and said “choney boshey” in return. They seemed to enjoy the worship though they could not understand it, Halo and Omed enjoyed clapping along to the songs (however out of sync they were), and had a good time participating. They all also participated in all the prayers that were said. Whether it was coincidence, Divine will, or sensitivity towards the Iraqi’s, the guest preacher gave the sermon in Arabic which was then translated to English for the rest of the congregation. Kurdish and Arabic are only related to the same extent that, say, English is to say Spanish, but Um Alaa is fluent in Arabic, and Um Omed like most Kurdish speakers in Iraq can understand some basic Arabic. The speaker talked about a prison ministry that he runs in Israel, talked about how we are all molded uniquely like clay in the hands of a potter and gave some other theological references and general edifications toward an individual’s humanity regardless of circumstance and the need for redemption.

I was very grateful that the mothers were able to understand the sermon but something very unexpected happened following the closing prayer and the small horde that approached the mothers and children to bless them and pray over them. Um Alaa began to weep. I wasn’t sure what had happened, if the stress had overtaken her or what exactly, but the other volunteer with me, Donna, told me shortly following that she was weeping because she had been so touched by the message. At this I was kind of surprised…I didn’t think it was that powerful of a message…sure it was good to hear about the success of this ministry and to hear again how God has made each individual special, etc… I thought maybe Donna was being a little too optimistic that it wasn’t something else, but then I noticed the other mother, while not weeping, was also visibly shaken…

This reminded me of, and strengthened my conscience concerning something I’ve felt over the last few weeks being here and in the course of settling in. The work my coworkers and I are doing by any outsider's standards would be seen as tremendous, incredible, awe inspiring, praiseworthy, etc; but the longer and more feverishly I do it, the harder it is for me to see this. I’ve heard analogies such as "you can't see the forest from the trees", or "you can't grasp the immensity of a sky scraper from inside the ground floor," and I think this fits both with my work at Shevet and my spiritual life to a certain extent. I may be driving kids in and out of Gaza, the West Bank, Jordan, making believers out of Muslims, ministering to the least, being a peacemaker between arch enemies, living humbly so that I can save others, etc. but unless I repeat that to myself, stop and step back and realize that is what I’m doing, I don’t see it when I’m actually in the process of doing it.

In the same way the radical nature of the Gospel is something that I need to be reminded of and refreshed by; not only that, but be truly impressed by the things being accomplished in Jesus name. The speaker was talking about a wonderfully successful prison ministry, to which my response was, “that’s great, another effective prison ministry built on the love of Christ,” but I lacked the enthusiasm of how glorious such an accomplishment is. I know that there are such ministries around the world and perhaps I am jaded by their number rather than overwhelmed by the joy of the enduring and vibrant work of Christ and his Church. I am used to the wonder of God, like the Israelites, like so many Great Revivals, my eyes have adjusted to the brilliant light; I know it's not the right place to be. Witnessing the response of these mothers, I think certainly more appropriate than my own by Kingdom standards, is a welcome reminder to pray for a new, fresh faith that can appreciate all these things, that will in turn encourage and strengthen me as I go about doing the work the Lord has graciously set before me to do in his name. Perhaps when you pray you can petition God to do this for me, so that I can feel newly inspired again and again, by all that he does, and for yourself if you find you are in this same place.

After the service ended the kids ran around the sanctuary taking pictures, smelling the flowers, enjoying being kids. Each of them, and the mothers, received copious blessings and prayers during this time. While I was not there with them, it’s my understanding that some of them, maybe more, went to church again that evening. Please continue to pray for the work God is doing in the lives of these families, physically and spiritually, today especially as I will be taking Halo, Alaa, and Omed in for their open-heart surgeries within the next 48 hours.

Can you conceive of something more random?

Eating kosher ice cream on the border of the Gaza Strip with 3 children from Iraq who just had open heart surgery and their mothers... That's 4 or 5 levels of randomness on one occasion, and yet this seems to have become typical of my daily experience working with Shevet! I think it partly explains the decrease in my frequency of blogging in the last week or so. What 3 weeks ago would have been a tremendous parting from the customary has become normal in my routine; to such a degree that it did not occur to me until hours later that I am probably the only person in history that could truthfully utter such a phrase. I can't post for a while about a couple things I've been doing though I'd really like to.

Arazoo went in for her surgery yesterday and should be on the road to recovery (more on Arazoo later). I'm going to the hospital tomorrow morning to take 3 of our children in for their final echocardiograms. If they show everything normal they will be on their way home to Iraq in a week or two. It's interesting to see how excited they were, for many, going to Iraq would be a nightmare.

At last weeks echocardiogram for Azhin (the one in the red jacket covered in icecream) for example after just a short time in the doctor's office, Azhin and her mother emerged with big smiles. Azhin's mother doesn't speak English but she understands when the doctor says, "Very good!" Azhin's mother repeated to me "Very good!" and was visibly excited as she used hand motions to explain to me they could go back to Iraq soon. She motioned to her wrist and said "Monday" (when the final echocardiogram is scheduled) and then made her hands like an airplane taking off and said "shooom! to Iraq!" with a huge smile. Azhin and her mom called back home to tell their family the good news.

Shards from above

Tell me is there a greater joy on this Earth than seeing sick and once dying children have the time of their life? Seeing shells of a childhood spring to life in vivacious smiles and laughter? Giving cherished gifts to those who have very little? Singing praise songs with those to whom the works of God are fresh and new? Seeing the faces of mothers who wept for weeks grinning ear to ear freely shouting their thanks to God? Sharing a banquet where citizens of opposing nations openly enjoy one another and 5 different language are spoken not with confusion, but unity, all with joy and praise on their lips? Being stuffed full of food around a table surrounded by new friends? Tonight I caught a glimpse of heaven.

My Friend Hemin

Hemin is a 21 year old young man, here when I arrived, that has somehow managed to survive with multiple heart problems. He has a very difficult time speaking now because of how long he had tubes down his throat, but he has still managed to get out words when he needs to under his breath and is one of our patients recovering from their surgery. He is the only man his age at Shevet and it’s been apparent to the other volunteers that he has a difficult time keeping boredom away. Even though I don’t speak and Kurdish and he doesn’t speak any English our similarity in age and being in a place very foreign to us helped us bond. My second day at Shevet, Hank, another volunteer, and I took Hemin and Arazoo (16) out of the house to get some much needed time away to be able to act their age. Hemin is a very stylish young man, even around the house he was always dressed his best, I’m told this is the way a lot of Middle Eastern peoples are, because they often don’t have much in the way of posessions, fashion is one of the few ways they can own something tangible. Day laborers for example will walk to work dressed their best, change into dirty work clothes, and then when the day is done wash up and change again before going out in public. We went to the Mount of Olives and took some pictures overlooking Jerusalem, as well as with a camel, the owners of which were eager to talk politics about the war with Hank and I. They were disgruntled at first, probably because of their perceptions about what Americans believe, but after we had explained to them what Shevet Achim does, and specifically in Gaza, they were blessings us and offering to donate their blood if we needed it. After we left the Mount of Olives we took Hemin and Arazoo to the Sea (that’s a different blog) where they took copious pictures in the typical teenager fashion. From there we went around the old Jaffa city and again too many more pictures. Don’t be fooled by the face in the picture, it’s not customary (or cool) to smile in pictures, but he is a very friendly guy. He left this morning bound back for Iraq. I’m probably the only Christian his age that he has ever met, and may ever meet again. I hope the friendship we had in the short time he was here will not soon be forgotten by him nor the impact of Shevet Achim on his life under-estimated by my readers. Please pray for his life, health, and strength, he now enjoys new life and the ability to live in a way we all take for granted, but putting my arm around him for the pictures I could feel he is still nothing but skin and bone. Pray also for his spirit as he returns to Iraq, twice he eagerly joined us in a church service, pray that this seed that has been planted will grow.

Kurds at the Sea

The last two days we have brought nearly all of our Iraqi patients and their mothers to the Sea. Arazoo (16) and Hemin (21) the first day, and 4 of the young children, Azhin (3), Elaf (2), Vanya (9), and Wihaj (3) the second day when we found out the echocardiograms we thought were scheduled for them were in fact tomorrow. Rather than waste the 2-hour trip back and forth to Jerusalem we thought it would be a good opportunity to take them to the sea. You wouldn’t think much of an outing like this except that for people native to Northern Iraq have probably never seen a lake, let alone a body of water like the Mediterranean. It’s quite an experience to witness someone do something for the first time, in fact I think this must be the satisfaction parents get when they watch their children grow up. No longer enjoying the activities themselves so much but perhaps instead enjoying to an equal extent their children experience the same joy they did growing up. This time my joy was not limited to the children even, as even the mothers had a sense of awe at this body of water that to them is brand new. Watching very reserved grown women display such excitement can't help but make you smile. Neither Hemin nor Arazoo cared to even touch the water, but Hemin was happy to stroll the beach and take picture after picture, while Arazoo spent most of the time collecting sea shells to take back with her. The next day with the little kids was even better as both they and their mothers were even less reserved about having fun, getting their feet wet, and playing in the sand. Having never seen seashells before I had the pleasure of showing the little ones what they were. Vanya and Azhin enjoyed collecting them as well. In spite of all the difficult feelings I am processing it was a great day today.