I am living in the midst of a community that has fled war over mountains and across oceans on the small little inflatable boats you’ve seen all over the news. My new friends have family in Belguim, Finland and Sweden. The “lucky” ones are assigned apartments (flats donated to the Greek Orthodox church and then handed over to the UN) where they share toilets and kitchens sometimes with 3 other families. The rest sit in over-crowded camps (managed by the UN) or in squats (managed by anarchists) sharing rooms, yes, ROOMS with another family or two. Each of these families are on a 2-6 month time line to be assigned to a random country of the top 3 choices on the checklist IF they are registered – more than half of the refugees here are not yet registered. Our sweet little church, every Tuesday and Thursday, is filled with a random, eclectic mix of families each in a different place in this process, each in a different living situation. Just this past Saturday, one of our families got their call. Even though we know that this stop is temporary, it is still hard to say goodbye…. There were a lot of tears.
Eleni Melirrytou is the pastor’s wife of the Church of Christ: Omonia Square. She is who I want to be when I grow up. She welcomes every single person into their little church building 3 days a week, cooks for 60+ each of those 3 days, cries when she hears stories, organizes and juggles 3 different ministries working to assist her, falls in love with every new person she meets: Syrians, Iraqis, Afghanis, Ukrainians, Romanians, Nigerians and even us silly Americans. She doesn’t have the luxury of having and caring for these souls for YEARS. She mostly gets those months. And heavens, she loves fiercely and falls hard for every single person through those doors. Through her tears, she hugs and sends folks on their way praying and gifts of fine meals. I think this is the bigger part of the lesson the Lord has for me in all of this: The hardest part of being Matthew Koerber’s wife is being placed in an academic setting in the city. Urban centers see loads of change – people moving in, people moving out. I have often lamented my church family is so much more transient than many other churches in our Presbytery. I’ve been a somersault of emotions throughout our 11 years in Pittsburgh: celebrating the fact that I am an ENFP who loves to meet new people; cynically raising my hand to agree to come alongside parents helping them raise their children when baptized,until they leave ME. I meet each summer with both loads of grief having to say goodbye to folks that have meant so much to me and my family and also with joyful expectations of what beautiful families/people the Lord is looking forward to bringing into our community. It’s such a strange tension! THIS summer in particular not being there has made me feel heart-achy. We started our sabbatical with conversations with some our best friends thinking about leaving, hearing a week into of our dear Chappell’s moving on and now, wow, the Sawyer family. These folks have been an intimate part of our lives the past 10 years. This sabbatical is encouraging me to view this summer of transition with new lenses. Eleni and the transience of place of my sweet refugee friends put things in to perspective for me. They help me feel grateful for the opportunity that I have to share years with people instead of months. And yes, I am teary writing this – but as I say goodbye to very dear friends this summer (from afar) I praise God that our season together wasn’t just months, but life-forming years. Years of having children together and parenting alongside. Years of conversations that lifted my heart towards our Savior. Church, I love that we have the opportunity to settle into very transformative years with one another and be shaped by one another. Nothing is guaranteed to last on this side of eternity. Isn’t that what makes us long for the other side? I thank you Lord, that you have used this piece of my summer experience to shape and help me see joy in every summer of transition. I am tearfully joyful ….. Over the past couple of days we have had several people attending our lunch and language program who are from the Syrian city of Aleppo. Some are Kurdish and some are Arabic. Aleppo is in Northern Syria, close to the border with Turkey and the fighting has been particularly strong there. One man encouraged me to watch videos on you-tube which showed the before and after footage. It is a remarkable contrast. (See picture above.) What had been one of the largest cities in the middle east and one of the oldest continuously occupied cities in the world was been reduced to a smoldering rubble. Hundreds of thousands of civilians have fled for refuge elsewhere.
Pre-war Aleppo had a thriving Christian community. Although I have not yet met a Christian from Aleppo, I understand that the Christians have been particularly hard hit. It is hard for me to imagine the extent of their suffering. Aleppo is a prime example for not only the devastation of war, but also the confusion of war. Currently the city is occupied partly by government forces and partly by the Syrian Free army - a rebel force that is also in conflict with ISIS. Internet reports indicate that the rebel forces have fought with each other there. It is not easy for the Syrian refugees to understand the source of the conflict in their country. I recently spoke with a man from Aleppo who has good English. He had a good job and a promising future. The war took everything away. His wife and 8 month-old daughter are still in Syria and he is trying to be relocated into a European country so that he can bring them to a new place. He told me, "Sometimes I think to myself: who has done this to my country? I do not understand why it has happened. Some days I wake up in the morning and I hope that all of this has been a bad dream. But it is not." He told me that he named his daughter "Salem", which means "peace" in Arabic. He hopes that her name points to a better and brighter future for his country. Pray for peace in Syria and pray that the Prince of Peace would extend his rule into this troubled land. (Matt) The past week was a fairly rough week. We realized that we were no longer tourists here, but we are also painfully aware that we are not locals. Everything from hailing a taxi to bagging groceries can provide an opportunity for miscommunication. Most significantly we are spending time with a lot of refugee friends who are in desperate circumstances, but we feel like there is not much we can do to help. We are uncertain of our roles and of how to care for our kids in a small apartment in a foreign city.
The entire team has been pretty fatigued. One of the young women we work with (Courtney) finished her time and returned to the states. Her absence is felt. We were joined by a new member from Alaska, but the other three girls are nearing the end of a month of hard core service. They were weary last week. Even our local church partnership has been stressed. Eleni (pastors wife and refugee ministry coordinator) has an injured foot and responds to desperate phone calls nearly 24-7. The ministry is flourishing, but it takes a toll on her. We tried to escape last week, but found a trip to the Mall resulted in more family frustrations. A trip to the beach on Friday ended with a swim in sewage from a recent storm. But friends were praying for us and a few encouraging notes lifted our spirits. Dreariness has driven us to the Lord in more serious ways. I wrote in my journal recently, "I am convinced that nothing good can come of our time here unless God does something supernatural." I didn't write that our of despair, but just as a matter-of-fact observation. I have no human abilities which can bring easy answers to the problems that we witness. This morning, I had a very refreshing time of prayer and Bible study. I found new confidence to walk through the day with hope. There were beautiful things to witness at church today as we bade tearful farewells to Syrian friends who will relocate to Belgium. One thankful man said through an interpreter; "We have been welcomed here like family. I want to know Jesus more." God is good and he is clearly at work here. We are dependent upon your prayers and hopeful for renewing power of the Spirit. The ministry is not easy, but when you catch a glimpse of God working it is breathtaking. (Matt) When Chrissie and I were in seminary we went on a summer missions trip to Zimbabwe. It was a challenging and wonderful experience. One of the things that was stipulated by Gordon Conwell is that the Overseas Missions Practicum (OMP) be at least 6 weeks long. The reasoning was that a shorter term trip would fail to adequately prepare students for the realities of missions. A short term trip can offer helpful ministry assistance in "the field" and it can be great exposure to new lands and exciting ministry frontiers. But a shorter trip can often feel like a whirlwind of activity. It is one long adrenaline rush that you don't come down from until you return home. A shorter trip fails to replicate the real challenges of living overseas and struggling to adapt to a foreign culture and context. A shorter trip is all honeymoon. The OMP needed to be long enough for the honeymoon to end and the real challenges and joys of overseas living to begin.
Today was a day in which Chrissie and I looked at each other and said, "The honeymoon in Greece has ended." I thought about using that as a title of the post, but I feared it sounded too negative. I don't mean it that way. Nothing is wrong. Things are still beautiful and there are still very encouraging and fruitful things happening in ministry. But the newness has worn off. This past week we were in Corinth helping with a conference. It was a lot of demanding work, but also quite beautiful. We stayed near a pool with a constant view of the Mediterranean Sea. I had a better than expected time as a youth group leader (which brought back memories) and was delighted to see God at work in the midst of our time. We visited ancient Corinth and walked through the streets where Paul spent 18 months of ministry. And then we returned from what felt like a retreat only to arrive at our "old apartment" in Athens. It is everything that we prayed for, and in many ways a perfect fit... but the reality of our situation is less fresh and a bit more gritty. There is still fresh bread at the bakery around the corner and still a view of the Acropolis from our rooftop and still daily interactions with people from all over the world. There are still daily glimpses of God at work. But... the national language is still Greek and my ability to engage with modern Greek is developing more slowly than I would have hoped. My mind still churns when I read every sign. Most people speak English well enough for us to get around, but there is still the ever present humiliation of needing to ask someone to accommodate to your language. We have made new friends, but the support network that develops over a long period of time spent living with others is not here. The complexity of current relationships has begun to emerge, once you get past the initial newness. The apartment is adequate, but it is still small, with no yard and the kids are still restless quite often. (See picture.) The temperature has cooled from last week's heat wave, but it is still quite hot and hard to exercise except for the early morning hours. There are still new things to see, but it is hard to know how to find quiet time in the morning to read and pray. I wrote to my brother-in-law and told him that the honeymoon was over. He lived in Kurdistan for 4 years so I knew he would understand. He did, but also reminded me that the honeymoon (in general) is fun, but real life is where the action is at. And so, here we are... real life in Athens. Life on life with people. Praying and longing for God's fresh work in our circumstances. And developing a bit of a wistful feeling for a certain little city nestled into the mountains and rivers of western Pennsylvania. And all of our friends there. And perhaps that is, after all, one of the things that a sabbatical is intended to do. Love you all. Keep us in your prayers. Worship on Sunday has been a highlight of our trip. We attended both the morning and evening service at the Omonia Square Church. The morning service was in Greek with some translation and the evening service was in English. Each service was filled with people from all over the world. We were introduced to missionaries who were passing through Athens are their way to furlough from Tanzania. There were Greeks, Americans, Egyptians, Philippinos and Ukrainians. Prayers were offered in many languages. Were were joined for parts of the service by Muslim background friends.
Please pray that the gospel would be clearly heard and understood. Chrissie quickly made friends with a couple of women from the Philippines. They have been members of the church for years and work as live-in domestic help for Greek families. It is not an uncommon arrangement for many southern European countries. Though we come from very different backgrounds we find common ground at the foot of the cross. We have relished the space to worship with people who live out their faith in very different walks of life. On Wednesday we go to Corinth to help the local church with a church conference that they have been doing annually for several years. We are going to help with childcare and I may be getting slotted in with the youth group. It has been awhile since I have done youth group programming and they will likely be speaking about five different languages - but I am looking forward to it! Please pray for us! And well... yes. We will be in Corinth. Pretty cool. This year, there will also be several refugee families that will be joining us for the conference. It is an amazing opportunity and represents the fruit of faithful care and relational investment on the part of the local church. Please pray that Christ would be known, glorified and embraced! |
AuthorMatt Koerber is the senior pastor at City Reformed Presbyterian church. This is his personal blog that he also asks guest writers to participate on. Archives
August 2018
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