A Christmas Poem

Snow blankets the earth as I watch from inside.
I'd forgotten 'til now what the cold feels like.
The handshake is harsh,
But the beauty is gentle
And meek.

Strangers next door keep conversation polite,
But Ehrky and I choose to stay out of sight.
He doesn't pick sides,
But he shadows the doctor
By night.

Scanning shop windows in a foreign land,
An ornament preaches from a castaway stand.
Engraved on a dove:
Ich werde bei dir 
immer sein.

Games

Pink plastic tea cups

Tipped up, pinkies out.

It is play—but how formal!

How normal it is

To sit here, Astroturf

Beneath our toes. It grows,

I think. Though slowly,

Rising from the field:

The smell of mud, and drums.

Blood runs to the sky.

Guns may kill, but scars

And stripes can only save

A dead man.

The weather’s fair today.

Here’s cotton for your ears;

A cloth, for the smell.

Faith

If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men. (1 Cor. 15:19)

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Security sources have warned of an al-Qaeda plan to send teams of gunmen to crowded places to kill civilians. They said cities in the UK, France and Germany were thought to be targets for the militants, in attacks analysts feared could be similar to the 2008 atrocities in Mumbai. (BBC News, 3 October 2010)
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I set my netbook on the kitchen table and began to search for flights, half-heartedly. My original flight had been canceled because of a strike, and it would be easy to use that as an excuse for backing out on the trip.
"Maybe God doesn't want you to go to Paris," my roommate said with a laugh. I laughed too, nervously. I'd had the same thought. But I wasn't committing to anything, I was just wasting time on travel websites. That way I could say I tried.
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6 October 2010, 1:01PM
Well, I booked a flight to Paris. I hope it was the right thing to do. I didn't remember the terms I had set forth last night until it was too late. My motives were at least partially pure. I really didn't want Alexis to spend the weekend alone.
----
Alexis called while I was skyping with my mom.
"Her bus hit a car on the way to the airport," I told Leigh, covering the ear piece on my headphones as if that would keep my mom from hearing. "Everyone's fine, though. It wasn't a big deal."
"Aren't you starting to think maybe this trip isn't a good idea?" My mom's voice garbled through the bad connection.

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It is nearly impossible to walk two abreast on a Greek sidewalk, because every few meters the path is interrupted by a knee-high, metal pole intended to prevent cars from parking on the curb. In addition to these green obstacles, trees grow through the bricks and dumpsters line the streets, so that a successful walking experience usually involves weaving back and forth from one side of the road to the other, trying to avoid cars and buses in the process.

The sun shone down brightly as I made the usual trek to campus. I saw an old Greek man coming towards me around a dumpster, so I stepped into the street. A car came from behind and sped past, barely missing me on the narrow road.
The man looked me in the eye, and I expected an unintelligible scramble of Greek to follow.
"Be careful," he said gently, pausing for emphasis before continuing on his way.
-----
7 October 2010, 6:50AM
I'm sitting in the Athens airport, trying to convince myself that these people look French. The gate isn't labeled, and not an employee is in sight--we were supposed to board thirty minutes ago. I see a man with a "Paris: Top 10" travel book, so I guess that's a good sign. I'm nervous about public transportation. Once I get there, I mean. It's supposed to be a primary target. I guess I would never know if I really trusted God if I never took any risks. But what does that even mean? Trust that I'll be protected? That I'm immune to sickness, impervious to attack? I haven't been promised anything. 

No...no, that's not true. I've been promised life. The kind that won't end when this body dies.

A New Tradition

Praise the Lord, all you nations;

Extol him, all you peoples. (Ps. 117:1)

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When the bright blue sky behind the mountains melts into watercolors, it’s time to start thinking about dinner. We would eat at Lindsey’s place tonight. Kate and I, who live next door, gathered the ingredients—filo dough, spinach, and feta—to make Σπανακοπίτα. The three of us came together in the tiny kitchen of the campus apartment and talked about our homes and families while preparing our various dishes. Lindsey put together a salad, keeping an eye on the lima beans simmering on the stove. Kate began assembling the spinach pies, and I set the table.

“Does anyone want sweet tea with dinner?” Lindsey asked, grabbing the bottle out of the fridge.

“Yeah, I’ll take some.”

“Me too.”

She poured three glasses and I took them to the table.

Lindsey’s roommate Courtney came in, so we invited her to join us. We all took our seats, trying not to knock the dishes peeking over the edge of the small square table. I breathed in deeply, appreciating the aroma that had been building for the past hour.

Courtney reached for her fork, and then set it back down. Kate looked at the food, then down at her lap.

“I feel like we should pray,” she laughed. She had been raised Catholic, and the formality of the dinner party seemed to bring old habits to the surface.

I looked across the table to Lindsey, whose parents work for YoungLife in Nicaragua, hoping she would take the joke seriously as well. Lindsey straightened up, and nodded.

"Take it away," I said with a smile.

4:00am

Can any man say enough when he speaks of you? Yet woe betide those who are silent about you!

--Confessions (St. Augustine)

God, I trust you.

What else can I do?

...the complacency of fools will destroy them.

(Prov. 1:32b)

Live with a sense of urgency.

Κυριακή

Greece is considered the neediest mission field in Europe, including the former Eastern bloc countries and Albania.
Evangelicals only number 20,000 (which is 0.18% of the population).
(Hellenic Ministries)

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It was overcast and a bit cooler than I had expected. I pulled on my sweater and began the walk up the cobblestone pathway. It was a little after 9:30am, later than I had wanted to leave, so I quickened my pace to the kiosk where bus tickets were sold.

"θα ήθελα δύο εισιτήρια, παρακαλώ."

"Tee-kets?" the man asked. I nodded, embarrassed that he had switched to English.

"For student?"

"Yes, thank you. Ευχαριστώ."

There were a few others on the bus, some wearing nice clothes. Perhaps they, too, were going to church. I thought about asking the woman next to me where she was going. "Πού πας;" I formed the question in my head. But what would the formal be? I’d look it up when I got home.

The bus stopped outside of the Στ. Νομισματοκαπείο metro station. From there I took the subway to Παλλήνη where I got off. This was the tricky part. There should be a bus from here to Παλαιοπαναγίας, the 304 maybe. Or 321. Neither was listed on the sign by the bus stop. I walked along the street for a couple hundred yards, looking for a street name. 

This part of town was not very populated. There were a few stores along the road--all closed for Sunday--and a few dozen cars speeding along the highway. After walking up and down the street a few times, I saw a woman and a little girl waiting outside the station, and decided to ask them for directions.

"Ξέρετε πού είναι λεόφορος Μιλήσης;" The woman looked confused. "η Σπάτων;"

She rattled off a few sentences in Greek, looking a bit anxious. A man drove up, and the little girl got in the car. Perhaps this was the girl's father, and he was picking her up for the day. I turned to go, but the woman held up her index finger, signaling me to wait. The man ducked his head down and looked through the passenger window.

"What are you looking for?" He was obviously Greek, but spoke English well enough.

"The intersection of Milesis and Spaton."

"Ah yes. But what are you looking for?"

"A church."

"Νέα Ζωή? I know the place." He paused, wrinkling his brow. "Who told you to get off here? It is very far." I looked down at the ground, then glanced at the bus stop with the wrong numbers.

"Well never mind. How about I take you there?" The woman and the little girl were sitting in the back seat. He had known the name of the tiny evangelical church before I told him. I got in the car and he held out his hand, "Stephanos." I shook it. "I go to Abundant Life Church, it is not far from where you are going."

We pulled up to a gas station. Next door there was a shabby looking building with a door guarded by iron bars. Above the door frame was an orange sign with a Greek Bible verse.

"No one is here yet. It is still early," Stephanos told me. I thanked him and got out of the car. He drove away and I wondered why I hadn't just gone to church with him. After all, I knew nothing about this place. Or at least, I knew none of the people. I had found the church online and had spent the past week reading the website over and over again. "Who We Are." "Our Vision." "Our Beliefs." It was hard to believe there were other Christians in this country. They seemed so terribly distant. I paced up and down the street, waiting for 11 o'clock when the service should start.

A blue minivan pulled into the gas station. An older couple got out and walked to the iron gate, unlocking it. I approached them.

"Καλημέρα."

"Καλημέρα." The woman answered, and smiled. We walked inside, up the white marble steps and into a small room filled with black chairs. At the front was a podium, and behind that a keyboard and a drumset.

The woman asked where I was from, how I had come to be in Greece. She spoke slowly and was very patient. After a few minutes of Greek and English, the words common between us had been spent, and we stood in silence.

A young man walked in, and the older man directed him towards me.

"Hi. I'm Jonathan."

"Deborah." We shook hands.

He was from North Carolina originally, but had spent the past 2 1/2 years in Greece as a missionary. He asked how I had found the church, so I told him about Stephanos.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure you realize what a miracle that is. Born again people are a tiny fraction of the population here. They're extremely hard to come by."

I nodded, holding back tears.

Others began to show up. Greeks, Americans, a man from Nicaragua. We began to sing worship songs. The tunes were familiar; the words were in Greek, though not too hard to understand.

Solidarity

He traveled through that area, speaking many words of encouragement to the people, and finally arrived in Greece, where he stayed three months. (Acts 20:2-3a)

What's the difference?

So Moses made a bronze serpent and set it on a pole. And if a serpent bit anyone, he would look at the bronze serpent and live. (Num. 21:9)

And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. (John 3:14-15)




^{sight:bronze serpent::belief:Christ}

Seeing is Believing

Main Entry: be·lief 
Function: noun 
:  the gaze of a soul upon a saving God 
(A.W. Tozer)

Then the Old Man of the Earth stooped over the floor of the cave, raised a huge stone from it, and left it leaning.

It disclosed a great hole that went plumb-down.

"That is the way," he said.

"But there are no stairs."

"You must throw yourself in. There is no other way."

She turned and looked him full in the face--stood so for a whole minute, as she thought: it was a whole year--then threw herself headlong into the hole.

 --"The Golden Key" (George MacDonald)