Confessions of an Eastern European Missionary

You know, honestly the first couple days were absolutely great.

The highs of actually being on the blessed ground of European soil,

Everything seems to be the grass that was greener on the other side dream come true

Everything is your long lost childhood fairy tale unfolding before your very eyes,

It's like a romantic relationship, the first 18 months are just beautiful,

then the 19th hits you like the Iron Curtain in your face with nowhere to escape,

I remember my somewhat naiive missons self not to long ago, back in the month of June, in Germany, 

I really had no idea what I was getting myself into,

or exactly what God meant with the whole "Eastern European missionary calling",

9 months is not really that long of a time,

but I believe it is long enough for honest reflection of experiences.

I would like to be an encouragement to my brothers and sisters in Christ who God has called to the European missions field.

Let's be honest. It's hard.........like really hard.....like deathly HARD.

After the rosyness of life melts away,

and you're walking a deserted pathway,

with the blizzard of Siberia screaming in your face,

when the depression of reality sets in,

and it hits you.....so God.......you've called me to be an "Eastern European missionary"....

Ka? Tikrai? You seriously must be joking.....OR obviously not.....

I would like to reflect on missons in relevance to the continent of Europe, but what I have learned so far I'm sure can apply to some extent across all cultures.

You have to willingly let yourself be judged by others, not once, not twice, not even three times, but one too many times than you would have liked. and in the midst of this judgement you must still be willing to bear the image of Jesus Christ and turn the other cheek. This my dearest  friends, is NOT easy. When you feel like an outsider and don't belong in the country God has called you too and the people you are called to minister to around you look at you like "What the bloody hell are you doing in my country?" it can be hard to stay spiritually strong. I know that feeling. I really do. 

You must be willing to trust God admist the darkness of this world. When your eyes are opened to the reality that your country of missons is #1 with suicides, and topping the charts with alcoholism and many other issues, it's crucial to remember that regardless of what it may seem, God is still in control and He has not forgotten your country. It's easy to look at the desperate spiritual needs and become depressed that you are one person, and your country is dying in search of the truth, and you feel like it's just too much, and that you just want to give up and take the next plane home. It's tempting yes, but it's important to take into consideration that if God called you to this country to do ministry, He believes in you and will see you through, and help you to accomplish what He started for His glory.

You must be willing to surrender your dreams, visions, and expectations of your missions country completely to God. It's hard because I know from my personal experiences, I dream such overwhelming evangelistic dreams for Lithuania. It takes strength to learn to be patient when you know that God is going to do great things within the next several years. You must remember as you find yourself struggling along in uncharted territory, not to lose hope in the dreams that God placed on your heart for your missions country. They may not happen right away or like you would have planned, but you must keep the fire and passion in your heart alive and never give up on them. These dreams were not put there by accident no matter how ridiculous or irrelevant they may seem. 

I pray and hope you find encouragement and refreshment in these reflections dearest friend. Know that you are not alone on this Eastern European missions field, with all the hardships, struggles, and joys you face along the way. <3 

Fatherless

A metaphorical/poetic illusion of an unforgettable experience.

I promised you I would go,
I stood at the midnight black iron gate
millions of voices all around me,
shouting,
crying out
pushing me to the right
throwing me to the left,
in endless circles I found myself dizzily spinning, holding on for my dear life
and so I entered,
I felt the demons of hell break loose,
the spirits of torment and darkness enclosed my soul,
on the outside she was dressed so beautiful,
as if she were an angel from heaven,
but I could see behind her mask,
my heart broke so desperately for her,
I could see a little girl who wasn't truly loved and appreciated by her father,
I saw a young man, dressed in his finest tuxedo,
quite handsome,
as if he was the prince of some foreign land,
but behind the facade,
I saw a boy who grew up with alcoholic parents,
who had his heart broken, and was searching for someone to love him for who he was,
my knees started to shake,
the tears slowly stared to fall from my face,
I saw so many stories of brokenness,
hopelessness,
depression,
loneliness,
suicidal attempts,
the scars on her wrist that were attempted to be hidden by her black lace dress,
the dripping fingerprints of delusional spirits on the dirty counter top,
and admist all this, I could see myself, feeling their pain in my heart,
it was if the angels of heaven and the demons of hell were at war with each other,
and I stood in the middle of it,
being torn apart,
so THIS is my generation,
this is what I missed out on the past 20 some years of my life,
there was no shock,
only accepted reality,
it was what I expected,
nothing less,
nothing more,
and as I walked out of the gates of  what I thought was hell,
I fell on my knees and just cried out to God to break my heart for my most beautiful and dearly loved Lithuanian generation....

Song inspiration: "Fatherless" by For Today...I pray for those who can relate to this song. <3

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zi_nzZrBoK8

Here's to my desire to remember what he left.
But, there was no time for sentiment as he took his final breath.
I was not too broken to hope for a helping hand, but I had to fight to find it.
Eight years old is too young to become a man; I left my hope behind me.
I was just another angry kid, growing up without a dad.
So I sold my soul for the highest bid, to get the love I never had.

Tell me who I am.
A kid that turned to the world for identity.
I can hardly stand.
Trying to find myself, I confined myself.
Now I've come to see, it was never "me" I was looking for…
It was always Him, it was always Him.

Born from a broken home.
When my father died, I was left to find my way through life alone.
Left on my own, I put my pain on display as I fought with hatred and rage.
No son should ever have to face the world without the love of his father.
I faced the world alone.
I had no one to run to, and everything to run from.
I had no one to run to, and everything to run from.
I buried my hope in the ground.
Drowning, with no one to pull me out, sinking inside my head.

I was just another angry kid growing up without a dad,
So I sold my soul for the highest bid to get the love I never had.

Tell me who I am.
A kid that turned to the world for identity.
I can hardly stand.
Trying to find myself, I confined myself.
Now I've come to see, it was never "me" I was looking for…
It was always Him, it was always Him.

Tell me who I am.
I can hardly stand.
Now I've come to see, it was never "me" I was looking for…
It was always Him, it was always Him.

SPEAK.

(a reflection dedicated to the next generation of visionaries)

She walked down the old paved street that her ancestors had trodden
that shivering snake feeling slithered up her spine,
Now in her mind everything was slowly starting to make sense,
and the sound of her heart kept playing the sweet melody over and over,
as she continued to walk,
looking in the Baltic brown,
Baltic blue,
Baltic green hazel eyes of each dear soul that she passed by,
and the tears started to roll down her face,
her heart was screaming,
like a human that was locked in a cage, shaking the metal bars with all their might,
but her outside composure was calm and collected as if nothing had happened,
dare she outcast herself within a melancholic culture and express so otherwise,
and she kept hearing the endless echoing word in her soul, it whispered,
SPEAK....
and louder and louder...
SPEAK....but she couldn't utter a single breath,
she couldn't form a single lyrical melody on her lips,
couldn't find the inspiration of a single strum on the guitar,
her fingers were too frozen to flaut a sweet summer's cherry blossom breeze,
She walked  by the suffering,
the broken hearted,
the depressed,
the alcoholic,
the scarred,
the sick,
the worrier,
the lover,
but her heart had lost its voice.
She simply could not SPEAK.
but the voice kept screaming inside her...
SPEAK....SPEAK......
the she saw a vision,
she envisioned this young lady,
who just poured her heart out to the world,
who was so passionate with her speech to those who cared to listen,
who spoke words of life, words of hope,
She gave everything she had within her soul,
and just poured it out for the world to see,
and she didn't hold back,
she didn't hide or water down her message,
every lyric that was sung to a dying world,
was so transparent,
so genuine,
so authentic,
her entire being was consumed into this, like a poetic fire that ferociously burned it all up,
and she cried the most passionate tears with all her heart,
and she gave everything,
her heart,
her soul,
her entire being,
and she collapsed on the stage,
as if she fell over dead, but her spirit was still alive,
and the microphone rolled out of her hand,
for she gave everything she had left,
until she had absolutely no more to give,
so that this dying world could know,
about a dearest Savior who loves them and who gave absolutely everything....
everything,
absolutely everything,
until His last dyring breath,
as wine red bloody sweat dripped from His thorn torn brow,
as He passionately looked up to the sky,
and painfully gazed back to His Father in heaven......
and breathed His last.....
and then He SPOKE..........
 "It Is Finished"......

Stranded In the Desert

( I dedicate this prayer reflection to anyone who finds themselves in this place) 

Why do I feel like I'm fading?

I'm trusting you God,

I really am,

Or so I thought......

5 months in,

and I honestly don't know what to think,

now I understand why people leave,

they simply have enough and leave,

this part of the world is rough,

if my own flesh and blood did not trace back here,

I probably wouldn't be here.

I know Father God,

You don't give IRRELEVANT dreams,

but I'm starting to doubt the dream You placed on my heart.

Society will laugh and mock me for it.

The ones closest to me will stare into the eyes of a stranger they never knew.

The need is simply too great.

To say that there is no hope for a country would be a terrible phrase to utter.

The spiritual atmosphere is like an African desert but yet it's Siberia outside.

How can this be?

Why does nobody seem to care about You?

Why has my generation forgotten their first love?

Why have they been silenced?

Who silenced them?

The ideas of money, sex, drinking, living life in the moment, materialism.....

The shallowness of society makes me so depressed.

Is this what the world has come to?

I know God that You don't give the ones You love more than they can handle. 

I firmly believe that.

But the mountain that is in front me?

Really God?

You must be joking...

I do my best to remember how You came through in the past.

and You came through like the greatest lightening storm.

So I know You will come through again....and again......

Some things in life honestly don't seem to have a rhythm.

Certain situations that are only a coincidence from You.

I trust You Father God.

Wither the healing comes,

OR NOT.

I trust You with my whole life.

When everyone around becomes to busy to remember who You are,

I will kneel at the dusty cross,

and remember You.

Father, forgive me for every time I did forget You.

I cry out for my generation,

Forget not the ones You love,

Never forget the ones You love,

Father God, I pray that the ones You love would not be forgotten.