pause, and pray

Tuesday morning we left Athens and headed to Italy. We had planned on taking advantage of being on this side of the world and added on that flight when we bought our tickets for Greece.

I had thought we would be more comfortable roaming around Rome since we had successfully spent a month in a foreign country. But once we were off the plane it was chaotic all over again, in yet another language. We paid way too much to get to our hotel but finally figured what we needed to do....kind of.

It’s exhausting trying to get through another country and do the stupid touristy things you’d expect to do-especially when you can’t even figure out how to buy a bus ticket. Or when every person you ask gives you completely different directions than the previous. So after we were sick of the frustration and confusion of trying to maneuver our way through the Eternal City, we did the next best thing: watched the Bachelorette. 

Maybe it was because the episode was illegally downloaded or maybe it was our internet connection, but we could barely get through 10 minutes of the show until it would stop playing to re-buffer. Seriously?! We couldn’t even catch a break after we had resorted to going back to our hotel room. At one point as we were waiting for the show to reload, Mollie humorously said “just pause it, and pray [that it works]”. It was funny at the moment to think that we would literally pray for a tv show to play. 

Mollie’s words resonated with me after we had given up on the show and after we went to sleep. What she said is really simple: pause, and pray. Sometimes I neglect to do that. A lot of the time it ends up being “act foolishly, then pray for forgiveness/for God to pick up the mess I made/realizing I am an idiot”.  Maybe now that I’m more aware of my anxious stupidity I’ll be more likely to pause. think. pray. 

Now it sounds like I’m gonna write a sequel to that eat pray love book. 

America is the shit

Sadly the title of this post will get more of a reaction than anything else I’ve written so far. That’s pathetic.  But seriously America is the greatest country in the world- I don’t care if that’s a biased statement, it’s true. 

Sure, Greece has some good things about it. I mean they basically started democracy (too bad they’ve fallen away from that a little). The Olympics...fraternities...gyros...the list goes on. But why, OH WHY, could they not come up with toilets that flush toilet paper? 

Before I left for this trip I was convinced I’d come back hating America. I’ve been disgusted with americans lately- ungrateful, materialistic, overconsuming, egotistical people (guilty as charged). The last straw was when I saw a woman pushing her pet rabbits in a stroller. REALLY?! There’s starving children and trafficked women around the world and we say we can’t afford to help but you’ll push Thumper around in a stroller? 

But not everyone is as much of an idiot as the guy (we all know one) who waits in line overnight for the Iphone 4. There still is hope! I’m not saying I’m going to come back to the United States not wanting to wear cute clothes or wash my hair or go to Dunkin Donuts. I just like knowing that not everyone is selfish and shallow- before this trip I had thrown Americans into a big stereotype of people who don’t even care about learning a language other than their own. Now that I’m not wrapped up in hating America I’m actually doing the opposite-appreciating our country more than I ever have. I can see past my ignorance that there are people who care about more than themselves. There’s more to worry about than the fact that the name of this blog entry contains profanity. So go put your time into something worthwhile if it’s bothering you. 

independence day

I didn't see any fireworks on the 4th this year. I was going in brothels instead. Half of the group did go to the section of the city known for drug addicted prostitutes as I had mentioned that we would do. The other half of the group walked to a different district and talked to Romanian, Albanian and Bulgarian girls working in the brothels. I didn't think I would be able to go in the brothels with the team because those girls speak their respective languages so I wouldn't be of much use (how many times do we find ourselves telling God that). But our team leader Viorika-who fluently speaks 6 languages or more, told me I could go inside with her.

Brothels are just your average apartment complex so the layout is something you'd expect. Compared to the pictures or my own ideas of what a brothel would look like, it wasn't much of a surprise. I think I was just in shock to actually be somewhere that I never thought I'd go- I couldn't believe I was seeing this in real life. My heart was pounding as we walked up the stairs to the first brothel, but once I got there I remembered that it's just an apartment, and these are real people.

There weren't any 'customers' in the waiting room when we initially went in. We walked back toward the kitchen which is where the madame and the girl sit and wait for clients. The kitchen was bare besides having a large TV showing the security cameras of 3 different parts of the house, a mirror, and a foldout table. The table was home to a CD player, lipstick, and a costco sized supply of condoms.

The madame (who is usually an older woman who manages the brothel and makes sure the clients pay, etc) happened to be a man wearing yoga pants, a pink T shirt, a ponytail and arched eyebrows recognized Viorika  and was happy to see her. He introduced Viorika to the prostitute as they had never met. It was cool to find out that as the madame was explaining who Viorika was he was gladly telling the girl what Nea Zoi is and had nothing but good things to say.

I couldn't understand what Viorika and the girl were talking about as they spoke in Albanian, but the conversation was going well for it being a first contact. Every few minutes a potential customer would come into the waiting room and the madame would go out to tell them the services offered and the prices. The madame would come back in the kitchen and the girl would walk out in her bra, thong and pink heels to showcase herself so that the clients could decide if they wanted her. This happened probably 4 times, mid conversation she would excuse herself and walk out to be evaluated and then return.

I cannot imagine my worth dwindling down to men deciding if I look good enough for them to be willing to pay to have sex with me. That's what it comes down to, people. Here I was, on Independence Day, walking in and out of the places that represent bondage and anything but freedom.

So now what? I also learned that night that there comes a point where talking about it and bringing awareness to something like this only does so much. As christians we are called to GO and DO. So I gladly and reluctantly announce that I feel the burden to do something about it. I'm writing it here to kind of keep myself accountable, so anyone reading this is free to (join me) and make sure I keep the promise that I WILL NOT IGNORE THIS. I don't know what that will look like yet, but if I'm willing, I know God will open doors.

cell free summer

I went on a 9 day cruise at the end of May. Middle of the ocean = no cell service. Less than a week later I was on the way to Young Life camp basically in the middle of nowhere in Virginia. Being a good YL leader + limited Verizon towers = no cell phone. 5 days after I returned from camp we left for Greece. Sucky Blackberry = no network = no working phone for Chelsea until she is back in America. Wouldn't you be surprised that I actually love not having a phone. What useful, productive things can you be doing instead of all that time you end up spending on the phone every day? I realized I have a dependent relationship with my phone. Maybe it's more with the people on the other end of the phone...either way I've discovered I CAN live without a cell phone in my hand. It's like a breakup...you learn to adapt and go on living life, the way you did before, without them. [Isn't that why so many people are afraid to end relationships--they're too scared to change the comfortable routine that they're familiar with, but in reality life could be much better without them? I'm just saying....] Go a day without your phone. I dare you. See what you find yourself doing instead.

Talk about being lost in translation. Today we went to church, the service was in Greek (go figure) but if you want an English translation while looking like you work for air traffic control, you can take a headset on your way into the sanctuary. Obviously the Americans are hard to tell apart from the rest of the congregation. I really tried to be mature, respectful, and give our country a good wrap but honestly I couldn't stop laughing when we first walked in the service. Besides the fact that we look like pilots for Southwest Airlines, the translator dude totally sounded like that guy Dolf from Just go With It. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qON82FLjy5w&feature=related) Copy & paste that link and tell me you wouldn't be holding back tears of laughter when someone with that voice is reading from the book of Haggai. I'm going to stop before I get in trouble...

After that we attended a russian service in the basement of that same church, which we spoke about our time here, gave a testimony, etc. The Russian translator can't speak english, and our host Bob doesn't speak Russian, so we had a 3 way translation. We spoke in english which Bob translated to greek so that the russian translator could tell the service in Russian. Bob & Maria's 5 year old granddaughter (whose name was also Sophia-crazy,right?) was visiting and sat next to me. At one point she poked my arm and whispers, "isn't this boring for you?" I told her yes. Hey I'm not going to lie to a kid....that's why I'll tell my own children Santa isn't real.

Tomorrow we will hopefully hit the streets with Nea Zoi again, this time to talk to drug addicts. Please pray for our time there and that God will prepare their hearts, as well as ours.

she's too young

It's 10:30pm here and most people in Greece are probably just finishing their dinner and getting ready to go out on a Saturday night. I however am already in my pajamas chowing down on Doritos. I'm about to go to bed, but the night is young for many people here.

Including the prostitutes we talked to the other night. We met a street full of Nigerian girls who have been trafficked here. They don't work in the brothels, but their pimps sit close by in the cafes on the end of the block. The pimps don't feel the need to exactly watch them like a hawk because they trust the girls to some extent. This is partly because the girls come from a place where voodoo and juju is very much believed in, and once the girls are trafficked they basically sign a spiritual contract in which they must pay off a debt before they can ever escape. Sadly even if this isn't the case for the girls, they are still held hostage by the fear of being unable to make ends meet. It's hard to find a job-even harder when you can't read and have no vocational skills. So these girls do the only thing they know-have sex to make money.

I'm a friendly and talkative person. But trying to make conversation with a prostitute was tricky. What do you talk about? What do you ask without stepping over any boundaries? (Hence I was constantly asking the Holy Spirit to speak through me) I asked a girl named Sophia if she liked Greece. She doesn't. And you know what she said? "But what am I gonna do". She looked me dead in the eyes as if to say there's no hope and she's stuck doing this forever, whether she wants to or not. But I know that God can pluck us out of our deepest point of desperation.

At the end of the street known for the Nigerians, a girl who was 24 was talking about two men who claim they want to marry her. I don't know the details but she said she wouldn't have to work the streets anymore if she were to get married. (I don't know what her hesitation is despite the encouragement from the New Life ministry to marry. Just choose one and get yourself out of this!). We asked if the prostitute beside her had a boyfriend. The response: "Noo! She's too young to have a boyfriend!" The irony.

I don't care how old any of those girls are [for the record there are girls working in brothels who have admitted they are 15]....NONE of them should have to do what they do. They're too young. They're precious daughters of God. They just don't see that.

a sweet for you

Being on the other side of the world for the first time in a country that you dont know and in a place that uses a language you dont understand can weigh you down, pretty quickly. We’re irritable. We snap at things we normally wouldn’t be bothered by. We’re tired but can’t fall asleep. It’s frustrating.

The 3 of us recognized that we are feeling the weight of this trip. It’s heavy, it’s not just a fun, month-long escapade for the 3 of us to explore Greece. We have little direction and don’t have mentors that are with us to escort us to get where we need to be or help us figure out how things operate here-we’re on our own. 

But we aren’t. It’s funny how we can feel so alone and overwhelmed but at the same time be so much more aware of the Lord’s presence. I’m realizing just how BIG God really is. Maybe it’s because I’ve heard worship in more than 3 languages-can you imagine what it sounds like to hear people who you have no idea how to communicate with praising the same God you do? Or the fact that a palm tree can be standing right next to an evergreen tree--how can those 2 types of trees survive the same environment? If God is going to make sure the trees can stay alive, I can rest knowing I’m in His hands, and this trip is too. God has a funny way of showing us He’s watching over us, and He’s placed people in our lives and on this trip that reiterate that. Even people we haven’t ever met-we woke up to find a note with a fruit dessert in our fridge: “Good morning, A sweet for you...Have a good week”. 

We’ve officially gotten through our first week in Greece. We’re still learning and adjusting but we are almost over the jetlag. We went to the beach yesterday and swam in the cold Mediterranean Sea among sea urchins and sat and just took in the beauty. I’m looking forward to not being preoccupied with culture shock so that I can focus more on the ministry with the prostitutes. I’m sure that will happen the longer we’re here and especially once we talk to those girls. Please keep praying for our time here- it means so much and we know The Lord and his angels are watching over us.

lightbulbs

You’ll walk right by them without even noticing if you’re not looking for them. There’s no signs or business hours posted but the light bulbs indicating the brothels are a familiar sight to the people living in the red light district of Athens. More than familiar, those light bulbs have a meaning that can be so accepted and nonchalant. But to me, the meaning of those 60 watt yellow bulbs is daunting- it’s sickening, it’s heinous. 

We walked to the building of the Nea Zoi (New Life) ministry not knowing what to expect. I had started to get nervous as soon as we got off the metro--my angst must have been written all over my face as Stephanie asked me if I was alright. 

Across the street from us was a skinny blonde in a short pink dress. She paced back and forth within a 5 foot radius at the intersection. The 3 of us exchanged glances...is she...? Outside the office building, what I encountered today is something I will never forget. I didn’t even notice until later the frail body and skimpy clothes that accompanied the pair of eyes that is already engrained into my memory. I don’t know how to explain what I saw- hollowed eyes surrounded by bloodshot veins...but somehow they had an amber color that wrapped around her black lifeless pupils. It wasn’t disturbing because of the fact that her eyes were bloodshot from being addicted to drugs- it was the emptiness and pain behind them that made my stomach feel like I had a whole grapefruit sitting in it. 

But those girls standing on the corners are somewhat independent of the brothels and aren’t necessarily under a pimp’s ownership-at this point they’re so addicted to drugs that that’s what keeps them captive and the only way to feed their addiction is to sell their bodies.

This is hard to write and hard to explain when it’s not something common or on any comprehensible level if you haven’t seen it. I wouldn’t understand the heaviness [I didn’t understand this heaviness before today] if I had never been right there among this darkness. But I know that God hears us and knows our hearts, so I will ask for prayer..

-for the women in the brothels with no concept of love or trust

-that the men entering these brothels as customers would feel conviction and find another way to fill the emptiness and void (which can only be satisfied by God)

-for the people doing ministry (such as Nea Zoi): that opportunities would arise for them to share Christ’s love and that they would be received in the brothels

That is a quick, broad overview of the prayer needed for this problem. It’s more than a problem but I’m too tired to try to think of a better way to put it. Mollie, Stephanie and I will be going into the brothels to talk with the women within the next week. 

den sas halase

I don’t even know what that means, but it’s about the only thing I’m sure of over here. That’s the name of the wifi network we miraculously connected to. I don’t mind when things are different and I don’t expect things in Europe to be the same as how they are in America, but we’re having trouble getting accustomed to a few things:

-ovens (I burnt my hand trying to figure out why it wasn’t heating)

-toilets (throw your used toilet paper in the trash, don’t flush it)

-door knobs (we got locked out of the parsonage testing the door lock)

-showers (the head of the faucet disconnects from the sink and then you squeegee the bathroom floor when finished)

-street signs (where are they-and what do they mean?)

-body gestures (holding out your hand as in to wave or how we would indicate the #5 apparently means “Go to hell” or worse, I forgot that as I gratefully did that gesture when a car let us walk across the street)

Oh, and one other little thing: THE LANGUAGE...Yia what? Besides the fact that we were still dealing with jet lag and a 7 hour time difference, it was so hard to concentrate on anything that was going on. We’ve had to receive so much information in the past 48 hours on such little brain capacity, I’m pretty sure after a while we started to drown out even the english spoken to us. 

Tonight we worked at a festival for children, doing face paint and playing Twister...all without speaking English. Well we spoke English but the kids didn’t know what we were saying. The best part was when a little boy asked me to draw a Greek flag on his arm and I didn’t know what that looked like, so Mollie told me to just draw an American flag on him. A) what american kid would ever ask to have our flag painted on him and B) I’m sure the greek boy wouldn’t appreciate my patriotism. 

At the end of the festival a few of the boys were breakdancing and it was really cool. The majority of the kids don’t have parents who ever know where they are and are also Albanian, facing a lot of racism from the greeks. The festival is set up by the community center which is one of their places of refuge and somewhere they can get attention from adults who care about them. Pray that these kids see Christ’s love and acceptance for them through the volunteers who run the Community center.

God is so much bigger than our minor details in life that seem so huge when we can’t figure them out. We stomp and yell and get irritated when we don’t see the bigger picture because we don’t trust that the Lord has it all figured out. We need to remember that He meets us right where we’re at and then says “let’s do this thing together”. I’ll take Him up on that offer, because I know I’m not going to be able to do this on my own.