When War Becomes the New Normal…

“As months wore on, running to the shelter with our families every time the sirens sounded, just became emotionally unsustainable.”

Upon crossing the border from Poland into Ukraine, our train was boarded by a number of Ukrainian troops going from car to car, checking our documents, conducting passenger interviews, and inspecting our luggage.  I was struck while watching them intently carrying out their anti-terrorism assignment, while joking and laughing with one another, just how compartmentalized the war had become, even for soldiers. 

And once we reached Zolotonosha in the heart of the country it was even more clear that two-and-a-half years into this war everyone has had to find a way to compartmentalize the trauma, the loss, the fear and anxiety, and return to some sense of normalcy, if only a façade of such. 

One of the purposes of our trip into the heart of Ukraine was to encourage local believers and help them host a camp for ninety children.  Each day had a Bible story anchoring the activities.  Day two I was assigned the story of Jesus healing blind Bartimaeus.  When they brought him to Jesus for healing, Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?”

I presented the children with that question, if they stood before someone with that power, power to do anything for you, what would you ask?   

The responses I got ranged from the ending of the war, to the death of a neighboring President, to their father returning safely from the war, or not being called up at all, to their soccer team not losing or their Nintendo game system not losing their data. 

In talking to parents, we heard of their heartache that their children bore the weight of the war on their young hearts at all.  Fathers told me of how in the bomb shelters they would sing or tell jokes to make the kids think it was not a big deal, while admitting to me their own greatest fear was their families knowing they too lived in fear. I would hear from them, “As months wore on, running to the shelters with our families every time the sirens sounded just became emotionally unsustainable.”

The first afternoon we were there we watched as the church youth hosted a large water games outreach on the school yard.  It took a while to realize they had their music amplifier set just loud enough to drown out the noise of the air-raid sirens in the background.  The music punctuated by screams of laughter as they launched water balloons, all the while aware, at least subconsciously, of the potential of incoming missiles or drones.

 

I heard so many stories, so much heartache and heartbreak!  I met Volodya the first Sunday, a man almost my age, who told me how he stood by and watched the only home he’d ever known, destroyed at the hands of the invading army.  But, because the church reached out and ministered to them in their homelessness, they found valuable community, but most importantly, new life in Christ.  He and his wife were baptized together during the early months of the war, and now joined with the church in ministering to others.  Yet, their pastor shared with me the weightiness of preparing sermon after sermon on God’s faithfulness, knowing his flock had prayed for two-and-a-half years for the end of a war and still nothing seemed to change.

Everyone is praying for the war to end, but they also know that when that time comes, a whole new war will begin of reintegrating those who manage to return from war back into post-war society, into the community, into the church.  At East-West, we expect that may be some of our greatest opportunities yet for ministry in Eastern Europe and some of our greatest opportunity to come alongside our sister churches in Ukraine, and God-willing in Russia, bringing His glorious Light into the darkest corners of our planet.