Mission to the Ukraine, Part I

Let me make a personal confession: The last few years of my life have been, in my opinion, pretty rough. I’d take a few dozen pages and tell you about it, but you’d get bored-- and chances are good you’d think, “Hey, pal, my life’s no cakewalk. Life’s hard. Get a helmet.”

Fortunately, I have had a helmet—my faith. God listens to me while I complain about how tough I have it, and how I feel about things that don’t go my way. He listens when I pray for a turn around in my misfortunes. He listens and listens while I pray and pray.

Then-- Tada! He recently answered my prayers. He sent me half way around the world, then, well, He kinda sorta told me to get a grip.

Let me explain: Heidi and I just returned from a week in Ukraine, where we participated in a mission with Christians from three Charleston area churches. Heidi went as a dental assistant on the dental team, and I went as, well, a semi-strong back. The focus of the mission was teaching about (and providing) healing prayer, and that’s not one of my talents, so I went along to help the team members who do have that gift.

During the mission trip we stayed with some wonderful host families in the city of Zhitomir, and each day ventured out to small churches in the villages around the Zhitomir area. Once there, part of the team would teach a conference to parishioners on healing prayer, and part of the team would deliver food to the poor in the village. In case you were wondering, “poor” in Ukraine doesn’t mean TV-but-no-cable… it’s the kind of poor that inspires tears because some one showed up with a weeks worth of pasta and oatmeal.

So, there I am in Ukraine. And I get to thinking about all my difficulties. And God pops in and says, “Prioleau, I know how tough things have been for you. I know that it seems like I sometimes forget to deliver your monthly allotment of blessings and luxuries. Yes, I understand you’re thankful for your wife, and your health, but here are a few more blessings you might want to count.”

“One, be thankful you don’t live in a country where the average middle class salary is $80 a month, but gas costs $3 a gallon. Second, be thankful you live in a home you own, not a 700 square foot hovel—shared with your grandparents and children. And third, maybe throw in a little thanks that you live in a mild climate, not in a country that gets to 40 below in the winter. Oh, and let’s not forget that you don’t have to heat your home with wood at that temperature.”

His message was making a little bit of sense.

“Let’s see,” God continued, “Also be thankful you don’t have to send your wife to work in the field in her only summer shoes, which are men’s rubber slippers four sizes too big. Perhaps a little thanksgiving for running water. A little for the fact that you have luxuries like aspirin, a toilet, and a door on your house. Maybe a little for the fact you have access to a doctor, instead of a magician. Oh, and there’s that whole failure of communism thing—maybe you should be thankful that no one has ever told you that everything you were ever taught was not only wrong, but evil.”

“Oh,” God continued, “let’s not forget your dental care. Maybe you should give thanks you’ve never had seven teeth pulled in a ten minute sitting. Let’s not forget you get to shower more than once a month. And just for the heaven of it, let’s throw in your access to newspapers, magazines, television, cars, deodorant, coffee, cotton, windows that work, vacations, telephones, prescription drugs, spending money, the Bill of Rights, central air, paved roads, Internet access, cold beer, and the ability to get ahead if you work hard.”

God paused, and I jumped in.

“God,” I said, “this isn’t fair. I’m an American. I didn’t ask for all that stuff.”

“Hmmm,” God said. “Haven’t you been asking me to make your life easier? Better? Less painful?”

“Well, sure,” I replied.

“Okay, I took care of it back before you even asked.”

“Well, what about these Ukrainians?” I asked. “What about their lives?”

“I’ll answer their prayers when they ask me.”

“How are they supposed to even know to ask?” I said. “Being a Christian was illegal under the Soviets.”

“That’s what you’re doing there.”

“This doesn’t seem to me to be a very efficient plan,” I said. “Why not just produce some great founding fathers, like in the US?”

“What do you think Ukraine’s Orange Revolution was?” God replied. “Some kind of party trick?”

He had me there.

“Okay, God,” I said, “let’s just talk efficiencies. Why is it necessary for American missionaries to come over here and help evangelize? Sure, maybe I needed this trip to put my life in a better perspective, but why are missionaries part of your plan? Why does an All-Powerful God even need our help?”

“Let me answer that with a question: Why do you think I asked Moses to raise his staff to part the Red Sea? Do you think I needed him to accomplish the task?”

“No,” I said.

“What would have happened if Moses had said, ‘God, I really don’t want to do that. It will be embarrassing if nothing happens. You part the Red Sea, and I’ll watch.’”

“What would have happened?” I asked.

“You’ll never know,” God said. “Because Moses did his part, and I did mine.”

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It is, I believe, impossible to take part in a mission trip and not be changed by it. Until now, I never really understood evangelical mission trips to the 2nd and 3rd World, because I didn’t understand the impact these trips have on both the missionaries, and the residents. The missionaries get a brief glimpse of the non-political world God oversees… and the locals get see, if only briefly, that someone does care about their plight. Someone does care about their humanity. Someone does care about giving them hope for the future.

That someone isn’t me or you, of course. We can deliver food and prayer and dental care and hugs, but we can’t deliver hope. The situation in places like Ukraine is too dire for hope to be delivered by men, even if the delivery has seven or eight zeros behind it. Most of the folks in those villages will live and die there, scratching by day after day.

But, if we do our part… if we listen and take the necessary steps, we can hand deliver the love of Jesus Christ. And with that comes Jesus himself, and the hope that this life is but a moment in eternity, followed by the greatest banquet in the history of time.