The Six Days of Christmas

When I came to Kazakhstan, I thought that for once I’d be able to just have one Christmas party. Not that I hate Christmas parties. Far from it. But I’m sure most of you have experienced the “joys” of going to two Christmas parties on Christmas Eve and two or three on Christmas day.

But little did I expect that in Kazakhstan I’d get to participate in more Christmas parties than in any other year of my life. Over the last week, we had SIX separate Christmas parties at our leaders’ apartment. There’s only room for around 30 people, and, let me tell you, in the last 4 months, we’ve certainly made enough friends to fill all of them. We’ve been playing games, singing Christmas songs, eating stew, and sharing the Christmas story. It’s been powerful. Everyone at the parties have also been receiving Bibles in either Kazakh or Russian, whichever they consider to be their native language.

Let me share some of the stories that came about just from the last week. Several people have come more than once (and with us not watering down the story, that tells us that it’s connecting with them).

• Our friend Albina told our leader’s wife that she will always remember the night of the Christmas party as one of the highlights of her life, even until she’s an old woman.
• Another girl told me that she’s dreamed of going to a Christmas party since she was a little girl.
• Saule, a girl who can be difficult to talk to because of her intense desire to learn English, came twice, and told one of our female team members that she’s been reading her Bible and can already feeling herself changing. She asked if she can come to her with questions about it.
• Our friend Zhadra told us that she will definitely begin reading her new Bible.
• Bulat, a minor celebrity on campus who’s the MC at a lot of local events, asked if he could have two Bibles so he could give one to a friend.
• My friend Jazz, an atheist since his cousin’s death, has been getting closer and closer to God this whole semester. Every night, our team leader, as he’s been sharing the Christmas story has been pausing in the middle to say that music, as demonstrated in the choirs of angels, is from Heaven. He wasn’t sure why he’d been sharing this until the night Jazz came. You see, Jazz plays guitar, and our leader turned to him in the middle of it and said, “That’s why you love the guitar.” Apparently, it really spoke to him, which he told one of my teammates afterward.

God is doing amazing things. This Christmas, God has given me—given us—one of the greatest gifts. He’s allowed us to share His story to over 100 people who had never heard it before. And He’s already shown us that this gift will not return void.

God bless you this Christmas. May yours be as merry as mine has already been. As the internet is especially bad tonight, I’ll have to post pictures later.

Last minute addendum:

Last night, Christmas Eve, the Christmas choir that our team created sang at the local international church. To be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to it. I wanted to sit and read and be lazy. It’s Christmas time! I wanted to sink into decadent selfishness! But seriously, I wanted to do as little as possible—it’s been a hectic four months. However, I’m glad we had the opportunity to come because tonight was the answer to a thousand prayers. At the end of the Christmas Eve service, the pastor closed by inviting anyone who had never known this King whose birth we were celebrating to come into relationship with Him. One person raised her hand. And that person was Rimma, our precious friend, a part of our choir, who we’ve been pouring into, loving and befriending all year.

As the angels sang 2000 years ago,

“Glory to God! Glory in the highest!”

One of our six parties

Rimma at one of the Christmas parties (She helped at several and has quite the servant’s heart.)

 

What’s So Hard About Redemption?

Who would’ve ever thought that being articulate would be an impediment to cross-cultural communication? (Read: Talking good makes talking to people who don’t speak good English difficult.) Every week, my life group meets, and we talk about what’s going on in our lives and about part of the book of Mark. The two guys who attend most consistently can understand English reasonably well, but I frequently find myself using words like “obligation” or “redemption.” Those words mean exactly what I want them to mean, but they only result in blank stares. I’m learning that precise language isn’t worth a thing if it can’t be understood.

This became more apparent last night at my life group when a new friend came. I hadn’t met him before, but as our meeting wore on, I realized that he was a Christian. I also came to realize that he’d been hurt by a lot of Christians. He’d encountered Christians who were living in hypocrisy—putting on the Sunday smile that said, “Everything is hunky-dory,” when he well knew it wasn’t. He’d also encountered Christians who, like those Paul warns about in Romans, used the freedom and grace of Jesus to justify continual sin.

“Where is TRUTH?”

“Where is FREEDOM?”

“What is the place of GRACE if it leads to wanton sin?”

These are the questions he’s struggling with, and I realize that helping him may be just as difficult a struggle. In English, I can often enunciate a flowery theological treatise on the virtues of moderation, or on the process of sanctification, but, I PROMISE YOU, my Russian’s not that good yet. The limitations that language puts on the Holy Spirit’s call for all of us to join with Him in comforting the distressed has once again humbled me. It frustrates me, but I thank God for it, and I’m reminded that God will use our weakness to shame the strong so that when we boast we may boast in Him from whom all comfort flows.

To protect his privacy, I’m not going to mention his name, but please pray for my new friend. I don’t believe that God brought him to my life group for nothing.

 

“Base Camp,” or “Do I Need to Buy a Staff?”

My friend Pamela cutting my hair last week as our friend Ashley watches. I thought I’d save you from the picture of me covered in all the hair she cut off.

This past Monday at our weekly team meeting, my friend Will talked about casting our cares upon the Lord. The focus of the talk was on those times when we are in “the valleys” (ala Psalm 23:4). But something that really stuck with me was not the “valley-times” or even the “mountain-top times” (ala Matthew 17:1-8), but that most of the time we are at the “base camp.” Even for me—out here in Kazakhstan.

I’ve heard many amazing speakers at many conferences tell amazing stories of their experiences in Venezuela or Sudan or Bosnia or the Philippines. But when you pull back the curtain, what you realize is that these handful of amazing God-encountering, faith-encouraging stories are gathered over the course of three or four years. Most times, we’re at base camp.

Here in Kazakhstan, I mostly do things I would be doing if I were back in America. I don’t live in a tent—I live in a college dormitory. I don’t hunt for my food. I wouldn’t even know how. I walk to the cafeteria and buy it. I hang out with my friends, and talk about things that we care about—soccer (okay, maybe I don’t really care about soccer, but they do), movies, how terrible the internet is here, what our buddy should do on his first date, and about God. Where are the buckets of water being licked up by the fire from Heaven? Why have none of my staffs become snakes? (Maybe I need to buy a staff?) Where are the prison doors bursting open, and where is the guard and his entire household joining the Kingdom?

Most days are at base camp. To paraphrase Someone greater than me, “to those who have been trustworthy in small things, greater things will be given to them.” Daily, I have these everyday conversations, and I can’t help but think of what Jesus said in John 3: “If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you bout heavenly things?” If my friends here don’t find my trustworthy in the banal day-to-day of life, however would they want to come to me in a crisis. And if they don’t find me trustworthy in these “earthly things,” like what to do with a loud roommate, how would they ever trust me with where they should place their faith.

Let us not grow weary in our life at base camp, but let us thank God everyday for the opportunity to walk with him in these “earthly things” he has for us. After all, every day here is a privilege.

 

Let It Snow (And Other Short Stories)

First! Snow! Day!

One of the best things about Kazakhstan is (apparently) that it’s snow is epic. We already have an inch of snow on the ground and it’s still snowing. (On top of that, our teacher is out of town and couldn’t get a sub, so it turned into a legit snow day!) Woo!

Coming back from class after realizing the teacher wasn’t going to show up. Awesome!

In other news, I recently went to a Korean karaoke restaurant. It was pretty awesome. I butchered a few songs, and my friends joined in.

(L to R) Me rockin’ out, Almira–a new friend who speaks French better than English, Brian–a teammate from Texas, and Jon–a teammate from Oklahoma (the last two are both my roomies)

Last week, I also played some games and roasted some hot dogs with a group from two different Uyghur churches. It was a blast, even though(almost) no one could speak any English.

I felt like I was at a Chi Alpha retreat! (Or maybe back in Boy Scouts.)

Two weeks ago, I went to an American football game. It was between the Kazakh team, the Kimep Titans in blue, and the Kyrgyz team, the AUCA Barsi (Snow Leopards) in white. The Kazakh team, coached by my two roommates and friend Alex dominated them 36 to 12. It was awesome.

Some of you might recognize the white jerseys. They were donated to the Kyrgyz team by Evangel University in Springfield, where my roommate Jon went to school.

And I don’t have a picture of this, but a couple weeks ago, a friend we met from Poland dared me and my roommate Jon (Elisa, our Italian friend, ended up coming, too) to eat dog with him at a Korean restaurant (a different one than the karaoke place). We did. It was actually kinda tasty, but I don’t plan on doing it again.

And here are a few more random pictures for your viewing pleasure:

Yes, a Mizzou fan in Kazakhstan! He’s from Alabama (I believe), and went to a sports camp at Mizzou. But I’m counting it! Hat and shirt! This was taken at the American football game.

Jon and I ran into an anti-smoking concert on campus, and so we rocked out. We were the only two people dancing, but it was awesome. Afterward, a few people wanted to take their pictures with us, including these two volunteers. People can’t talk to you about anything Life-giving unless you’re visible. The signs read, “We say no” (and then other words I don’t know, haha).

I saw this a few weeks ago. It’s one of the most bizarre things I’ve seen since coming here…

…Except possibly this. Although not incredibly common, these stickers are placed on the backs of cars to indicate that this car contains a “female driver.” It reads, “Respect me!” There are also stickers like this to indicate student drivers and cars with small children in them.

 

Where’s Your Scarf?

For your reading pleasure, a few things to avoid next time you’re in Kazakhstan:

• Russian class can be a bit mind-numbing, as I’m sure you can imagine, especially as I enter into the third straight hour of it. So, like any good child raised on Snow White, I sometimes whistle while I work (or study as may be the case). But my teacher quickly put a stop to that. While in America, I might whistle while I work to help pass the time, in Kazakhstan, I will whistle my money away.

• This one happened a few times before I learned what it meant. I was sitting in the cafeteria, eating my food (probably rice with some form of chicken, and a side of bread), and a guy came and pick my notebook up off the floor and handed it to me. I thought maybe he was afraid I’d forget it, so I thanked him as he walked off. This happened a few more times to me and some of my friends over the next several weeks—picking backpacks, purses, even umbrellas off the floor.  Finally, I discovered that here in Kazakhstan, leaving my bag (or whatever) on the floor means I might as well just burn my money right now. Sensing a pattern here?

• I personally haven’t encountered this one, and I honestly am not sure what the idea is behind it, but apparently, if money is going to be exchanged at night, it can’t go from hand to hand. It must be placed on a table and picked up; we can’t both be touching it at the same time.

• The only one of these interesting cultural differences I was aware of before I came was “squatting.” I didn’t know that it was prevalent in Kazakhstan, but knew that it was incredibly popular in the Middle East. Everywhere you go in Kazakhstan, you’ll see people (more often men than women) squatting down, rather than sitting on the ground. This is, of course, because sitting on the ground will make you sterile. Especially cold concrete. If you sit on something, even as thin as a newspaper, you’ll probably be okay, though.

• Similar to the previous one, warm clothing is especially valued here. Jackets, of course, but we have also been chided several times for wearing open-toed sandals. Not wearing warm enough clothing will make you sick, and maybe even sterile. A female friend of mine was also told that if she didn’t wear a scarf, she wouldn’t be able to breastfeed.

As you can see, life in Kazakhstan doesn’t only involve learning Russian to communicate. There’s also a sub-language of things that are bad luck one must avoid. Every day here is an adventure (and as my friend Scott Martin says, “Every day here is a privilege”).

 

And For My Next Miracle…

Jesus’ first miracle was to turn water into wine at a huge party (John 2:1-11). The Pharisees criticized him because He came “eating and drinking” and hanging out with tax collectors and sinners (Matthew 11:19). Jesus knew how to have a good time, and we can see this in the way the “party people” of His day were attracted to Him. Recently some of our friends from World Exchange, a secular company we’ve partnered with that helps to send Kazakh students to America for the summer, asked us to help them throw a big American party. With Jesus as our example, here are a few highlights from the spectacular shindig we helped throw.

Twister: Kazakhstan-style! That’s my friend Mohammed from Saudi Arabia

on the far left. I played it once and got about 4 rounds in before my old man

hips gave out on me.

Some of our team teaching the people at the party how to dance a hoedown.

Alright. It was from Hannah Montana. I am not proud.

We dressed up and parodied the JK Wedding dance. I do, indeed, look stunning.

My roommate Jon (guess which one he his!) showing some of the Kazakhs

his sweet moves.

Conga! And yes, that is a tie around my head.

My friend Dilshod (“David”) from Tajikistan dancing like it ain’t no thang.

We had an amazing time. Along with what you can see from the pictures, we played games on the Wii; we had a table set up with an infuriating dice game that messes with your mind; and we played “Who Wants To Be an M&Maire?” with questions about America. At the end we just danced like there was no tomorrow. It was so fun that typing it does it no justice.

The reason I tell you this is not only to let you know that I’m having a great time, but to let you know one of the mightiest ways that the Kingdom comes. Salta, one of the wonderful girls who helps run World Exchange (at only 21 years-old!) and who isn’t a believer, thanked us for throwing such a great party. And then she said something that I think should be the mantra of every believer everywhere: “I don’t know… there’s just something different about you guys.” She’s visited America, and she’s encountered Americans who love to party and to get trashed and treat women poorly, but in us she encountered a group of people who have a fantastic time–with integrity. And she’s not the only one who noticed. My friend Behzohd, a Muslim student from Tajikistan, came to the last Gathering, and I wasn’t sure if he was going to come back. But after seeing how much fun we are, how loving and non-confrontational we are, he told me that he’s going to be at the Gathering tomorrow night. Similarly, I can see Dilshod, who said he wasn’t going to come to another Gathering since he’s a Muslim, warming to the idea.

Yes, Jesus attracted people to Him because of His love, but He also attracted people to Him because He knew how to have a good time. Let the age of the boring Church be behind us.

 

At What Price Love?

Well, it’s finally happened. You know what I’m talking about.

Yes, that’s right:

Zombieland came out. I’m sure you’ve all seen it a few times since its release last weekend. I, however, have not. That’s one of the frustrating things I’ve found in Kazakhstan.  All of the movies are dubbed into Russian, instead of subtitled. And on this rainy Friday, all I really want to do is go to the movies with some friends and have a nice relaxing board game night. (Yeah, I’m not sure when I turned 97, either.) But I can’t. Even if I wanted to watch one of the DVDs I brought with me, most of my friends would be unable to understand 75% of the dialogue. “Hurm… Well, I can tell from the way Bruce Willis is shooting those German guys that they’re the bad guys, but I just have no idea what yippie-kay-yay means…”

I think I’ve discovered the biggest obstacle for anyone who’s travelling internationally for any length of time. Language differences make it incredibly difficult to talk about the latest novel we’ve read, to explain how to play Settlers of Catan, or even to simply watch a film together. But I’ve discovered that language barriers don’t have to be barriers to love. I’ve made a lot of acquaintances here and some of them are becoming good friends.  And most of them have terrible-to-moderately-less-than-okay English skills (and my Russian skills, while progressing, are still pretty horrendous).  If we don’t connect over me helping them with their English homework (last night, I helped my friend Furazon write a small novel on a photograph of Jessica Alba) or over them teaching me slang (я типа «ништяк»), we can find other ways to connect. For example, my roommate Jon taught me a game called “Light Sabers,” which might best be explained as full-body arm wrestling. Last night, I taught it to my Tajik friends. I can speak 12 words to most of those guys, but man, did we have a great time. I’ve discovered that the only true boundaries to love are the ones that we create ourselves. As one of my favorite musicians says, “You can’t choose your friends, but you can choose your enemies.” By this he means that we can’t make people love us, but we can certainly choose to love everyone. And that’s what I’ve chosen to do here in Kazakhstan.

This past Tuesday, we had our third Gathering, and Scott Martin spoke on this sort of love—God’s love for us. And wow, was the house packed. We were unexpectedly moved into a smaller room instead of our auditorium, but that didn’t prevent God’s Spirit from moving. All of the chairs were filled, along with people sitting on the floor and standing in the back—between 60 and 70 people, mostly ones who had never been to a gathering like that in their entire lives. Scott spoke of God’s all-inclusive love, and I think it really touched the hearts of some of the students in the crowd. He related a story of an all-star football player from his Chi Alpha at the University of Arizona who befriended a “nerdly” underclassman, even at the expense of his social status. This is God’s love for us, and this is the love that we show to every student in Almaty. Then he said something that he hadn’t planned on saying, but that he felt the Spirit wanted him to say: “I don’t care if you’re Buddhist; I don’t care if you’re Muslim; I don’t care if you don’t even believe in God. We will love you no matter what.” I think that was a very unexpected thing for most of the crowd to hear. God, in us and through us, will not allow anything—language, social status, or even religion—to prevent us from loving all of the people of Kazakhstan. And I think that is changing hearts and changing lives.

 

Touch Your Toes

I’ve learned a few things while in Kazakhstan. I’ve learned that when I think I’ve gotten some Russian down pat, I’m probably saying it in a cute American way, and not the actual, correct way. I’ve learned that I need to ask before assuming something is milk. I’ve learned that everyone here knows how to say “Hello” and “How are you?” and most will shout it at me as I walk down the street… and then not understand my reply. Most of all, I’ve learned to be flexible.

Case in point: yesterday, there was no water anywhere on campus for some reason, and it wasn’t going to be turned back on for an indeterminate amount of time (it was turned on later that evening, but I didn’t know this). So, time passed, and I needed to use the restroom. Well, unlike America, you can’t just walk into a random store or restaurant and use their bathroom, so I walked to one of the malls near campus. Round trip walking, plus resting at the mall to do some homework, took about 3 hours of my afternoon. Fortunately, Wednesdays are my freest day (God’s provision). But I’ve learned to always be ready for new and unexpected things on the horizon.

I’ve met many new and unexpected friends here, often when I’m planning to do the simplest things: do my laundry, walk to buy some peppers, get my room key from the dorm mothers, sit in my room and study. Making connections with people is so wonderfully easy and I praise God for it. Many of my new friends speak intermediate to excellent English, but some are on a level comparable to my Russian (read: bad). But God is teaching me that friendship can transcend language barriers. I’ve gotten quite good at charades, and our gatherings are filled with games that require no speaking; dancing transcends language; and even music requires no translation to enjoy. Friendship is easy. You just have to be flexible. :]

 

One More Friend::ишо один друг

Wow, it’s hard to believe I’ve been in Almaty for over three weeks. But I feel like I’ve come a long way from the starstruck, exhausted 23-year-old who stumbled off the plane almost a month ago. Since then I’ve learned over 200 Russian words or phrases (not so much on the grammar yet, haha). I’ve tried the buses by myself only to end up a half hour walk from where I actually wanted to be. I’ve discovered the smells of only being able to shower four days a week (and the horror of realizing I missed shower time and will have to wait two days until the next one). I’ve come to love Kazakh food, and also come to love KFC, one of the only restaurants here that reminds me of the States.  The adventures here are never ending. Yesterday was one such adventure.

The first One More Friend (OMF) in the history of Kazakhstan was last night. We put a lot of work into making everything look gorgeous, and into the PowerPoint, videos, worship, and refreshments. Scott Martin told his story of growing up as a “weenie Christian,” and how God called him to 100% commitment to His will. It stirred up an excitement in me, and I know that many of the other students who came felt the Holy Spirit move, too. This week was a small gathering to explain some of the vision for the future of OMF: Kazakhstan, but next week we’ll be meeting in a larger auditorium and hope to see even more people joining in on the fun of OMF!

Some of the attendants at OMF: Kaz’s first Gathering! (Photo courtesy of Scott Martin’s blog.)

Oh, and we ended with the Cha Cha Slide! Haha, this is going to be a fantastic year.

 

Let’s Learn Russian #1

So, it’s been over two weeks since I left the States. This past week, I began my Russian classes here at KazGU. My Russian is still virtually non-existent, but the class is helping it increase exponentially. Although I’m sure that all of you are absolutely fluent in Russian, I thought you might want a refresher on some helpful Russian phrases.

• как дела? (Kahk) (dee-lah) = How are you?
• хорошо (Hah-rah-shoh) = Fine/Good.
• я не понимаю по-русски. (Yah) (nyeh) (pah-nee-mah-yoo) (pah-roos-skee) = I don’t understand Russian.
• классно (class-nah) = Cool.

Lastly, and most importantly:

• я хочу кафе. (Yah) (hah-choo) (kah-fee) = I would like coffee. :]