Standing outside the car once we got to Solomka. Note the cow to the left. A herd of cows walked through while we were talking to Uncle John's cousins.

¶ 6:30 AM //

You can see the massive stork nest on the road to or from Solomka. The telephone pole it's built on gives you an idea on how big it really is. Like a haystack on top of a pole. Sounds crazy, no? But not as crazy as a fiddler on the roof. (song cue here)

¶ 6:26 AM //

Here is the church in Solomka. I'm (in the front) next to Uncle Zhenya (to my left) and Aunt Anya is directly behind me, and behind the kids. She's wearing a green dress and head thingy. Family members, if you want a better picture, email me.

¶ 6:21 AM //

This is the entrance to the Bettig House. Yes, my Oma Kosachuk grew up here. Uncle John says that the original house burned, but they rebuilt it the exact same way using the same type of building materials. So it's virtually the same house.

Note the blue windows. I couldn't help but notice that nearly every house in the village and on the way had the same blue colored windows. Just another Ukrainian mystery. (Houses with new windows aren't blue though, interesting, huh?)

¶ 6:14 AM //

This is the back of the Bettig house. There's a field and a barn where I'm standing to take this shot.

¶ 6:11 AM //

My mom’s family comes from a tiny village in northwestern Ukraine called Solomka. I finally had the opportunity to visit there. The road to Solomka is terrible. It’s cobblestone, in theory, but rougher than any cobblestones I’ve driven. The car rattles so much that you feel like you’ll lose your teeth. I think it was a 45 minute journey but it’s just a guess. Ironically, I took a nap in all that ridiculous shaking, much to the amazement of my fellow travelers. Some people are just gifted.

It’s not all bumps though. The countryside is beautiful, very old world. We saw herds of cows walking home together. With no human leader, each knew which gateway and barn was theirs and left the herd accordingly. Storks were high in their huge nests on top of telephone poles. Intrigued, we stopped sometimes to take pictures of them. People hanging up laundry or sitting on front steps would watch us drive by. Folks don’t drive this way often.

I spent about five days with my Great Uncle John and his team from CIS, a ministry that equips and supports national missionaries. They build and encourage churches, and teach in schools. Uncle John is great to travel with, always laughing and telling amazing stories. They’re mostly amazing because they’re true and he experienced them himself.

Solomka. There are only 25 houses in the village and one church, a church that Uncle John and company helped build, even provided a sound system. The villagers treated me like the lost son they never knew. I explained in Tarzan-like Russian to a barrage of babushkas that my grandmother grew up there. In Ukrainian they tried to explain their relationship to her. I only hope they understood me better than I understood them.

I noticed three kinds of people there, the elderly, farmers, and young children. I understand most people when they come of age, leave the village and seek a better life in the city. Many young children go back to the village to live with their grandparents during the summer. It’s a Ukrainian thing.

Growing up, I’ve heard many exciting and sometimes gruesome war stories about how God supernaturally protected our family and led us to America. I told the Solomkan villagers at church that afternoon, that those stories led me to a faith and a true love for Jesus as young as I can remember.

I’ve always been captivated by God as the Supreme Strategist. He wants to restore relationship with each person, and uses people, circumstances, seemingly chance meetings to fulfill His Purpose. Not everyone regards God, some deliberately disobey him, and yet He weaves every move and countermove into his Master Plan.

I can only see a small piece of God’s plan in my own life from one vantage point. I easily could have been born in the Soviet Union. But in His Sovereignty, God allowed me to be born in America, where I was educated, taught the Word, learned how to teach, play music, work with children. And now, three generations later, I’m back as an Ambassador, a son of God. And not a victim of Joseph Stalin.

But after this trip, I’m struck by the idea that the Master Plan for some was to stay in the Soviet Union. They were robbed and beaten, lived their faith in hiding, prayed for deliverance. Like Narnia, it was 70 years of always winter, and never Christmas. I’m certainly no better than they. Why was this chess piece moved to Michigan, and that piece left behind?

In Solomka, I met a close relative who, at age seventeen, was sent to Siberia for ten years for being caught with a Bible in his possession. God kept some of his children here, because he needed believers to do his work on the Inside. They ultimately preserved the church and the nation until His enemies were scattered. They are ordinary people with failings, but they are true heroes.

And now that I’ve met them, eaten with them, kissed them, I realize that part of my purpose is to help bring healing to the spiritual wounds of those who grew up under that empire.
My family in Solomka is quite insistent that I return soon. Our visit was short, but I live close. I pray that God would give me something to bring them when I come again. I’m not sure what that looks like yet. But I sense a certain responsibility now, to tend the roots of the family tree.

¶ 5:28 AM //

Waiting at the trampoline are a handful of kids. Most of them are social orphans. Some of them are rowdy. All of them are cool.

¶ 2:17 PM //

¶ 2:15 PM //

I spent some time with the younglings at this orphanage. Lena (age 8, to the left) helped me with poses. Lena has been there for the same time I've been here in Kyiv (since age 6). They're all so loveable I would love to give them all homes.

¶ 2:08 PM //

This intimidating bunch are the Krokodili (Russian for Crocodiles). Sure, I don't remember ever winning a game, but we cheered so loudly, I don't think the kids knew we lost.

¶ 2:01 PM //

¶ 1:51 PM //

It’s not summer without Kids Kamp. This summer I’ll do three weeks of camp. And one youth festival, where we're literally camping in tents. If I feel the need, I can also work in Lugansk in August at another kids camp with friends of mine, but I’ve made no promises. Just don’t know how tired I’ll be.

I just came home from Zhitomer, a city about two hours from Kyiv. We were invited to help another ministry with their orphanage camp. In the last 12 years of my life, nearly all pretty the camps I’ve been involved with are those I’ve directed. I wanted to see something outside of the Markus Wolf model of Kids Kamps. I think it’s necessary for health and growth to see different perspectives and methods. Besides, it’s good not to be in charge, but to just serve once in a while.

But beyond cool was the involvement of the local church. The church is the key to reaching orphans in Ukraine. If local churches would embrace their local orphanages, the nation would be full of spiritual families that orphans could be a part of. There would be people to teach them, to hire them, to help them find their purpose, and embrace them when they screw up in life. That’s what the local church has been to me.

Our camp staff was a combination of foreigners (Americans and one Moldovan) and local Ukrainians from three of Zhitomer’s churches. They all gathered to use their gifts and resources to minister to the needs of orphans. A Baptist church, a Pentecostal church, and one I think was independent.

Sunday, after camp, in that same city I went to a church called Loving Community. The same worship band that played at church, played at camp that previous week. The counselors who wore jean shorts and t-shirts in camp were dressed a bit nicer for Sunday morning. So it was a welcome, familiar environment for the 12 to 15 orphans that joined the congregation that Sunday morning. The pastor welcomed the orphans and allowed them to be kids and to act like kids.

Whatexcites me is that the work we did for a week will be continued at a deeper level. Remember this is just one of the three churches involved. What a great model for Ukraine. I love this country.

I was thinking about what we accomplish at camp. We try to meet physical, emotional, spiritual needs. Ultimately, the best thing you can do for an orphan is adopt him. While that’s not possible for every family and every orphan, the next best thing is for him is to have a spiritual family. Certainly not all kids would receive a church family, but all kids deserve the chance to make that choice.

Everyone needs a tangible spiritual family, even us non-orphans. Christians are all part of the “universal body of Christ,” but that word leaves a fuzzy abstract picture. What’s real to me are the people who will hug you when you lose a loved one. People who will applaud your victories, and put a hand on your shoulder when they pray for you. Visit you when you’re sick. And if it’s true for me, it’s doubly true for orphans who haven’t got their fair share of goodnight kisses or backrubs.

July 1st begins another two weeks of camp for me. We’re expecting 200 kids this time, and I’m a bit leery with the sheer number of it. But if I can move closer to the model I’ve seen, I’ll be a truly happy camper.

¶ 4:10 PM //

A nice little picture of a church in Herrnhut. It's not the Moravian one, but I like it.

¶ 4:20 AM //

I'm pretty sure the inscription means "Christ is the Redeemer of the Dead." Correct me German family if I'm wrong.

¶ 4:07 AM //

I’ve been reading a lot of missionary stories lately. I’m challenged by people who’d given up position and reputation to bring the gospel to unreached peoples. Some people had good reason to be unreached. Would you bring the Bible to an island nation who would sooner eat you? What would be your strategy for reaching cannibals? I lay down at night thinking about these things. You can imagine my dreams have been quite vivid as of late.

Recently, I was in Herrnhut, Germany for the “Festival of the Nations.” This is a conference for all of YWAM Europe that everyone at our base was to attend. (if they could get visas) The purpose of this conference was for vision building, teaching, networking with other missionaries, etc. A neat little perk was being able to take a tour of historical Herrnhut.

In the 1700’s, Herrnhut was a town full of religious refugees. Count Zinzendorf, a wealthy Christian landowner, allowed a group of Moravians to settle on his property. They’d been persecuted by the Catholic church. Zinzendorf felt the Holy Spirit wanted him to open the city to all Christian refugees, and in five years Herrnhut was filled with Lutherans, Anabaptists, Reformed, and even persecuted Catholics.

Soon all these little groups were fighting each other about communion, liturgies, pastoral oversight, and other things. Zinzendorf, an amazing leader, managed to visit each family and bring them into unity. Every household signed an agreement to “stand in unceasing love with all children of God in all Churches.”

And then God was able to do something great in Herrnhut. They had communion together. Forgiveness and foot washing was normal between the groups. They organized a 24 hour a day prayer schedule that lasted around 100 years. Herrnhut began sending missionaries around the world, to islanders in the Caribbean, Eskimos in Greenland, colonists and natives in America, and literally all over the globe.

They were fearless in their commitment. At one point, word came back to the church that 12 missionaries sent to the Caribbean had died since their sending. Before church got out, 14 people stood and asked to replace their fallen brothers. I read this and shake my head. I’m so far from this.

Months ago, I had a conversation with a missions student. He wanted to talk to me about showing his absolute commitment to God. Maybe he could dedicate himself to stay single for the rest of his life, like the Apostle Paul. (Hmm, I wonder now if he thought I’d made such a commitment, since I’m single at my age)

I told him, “Well first, I think that you like girls way too much to make that kind of vow.”
He laughed because we both knew the truth of that statement. But the conversation continued.

“There’s something in all of us that wants to do spectacular things for God. That’s great, but it starts with our faithfulness in the little things. Are you really committed to Him? Show him in your daily quiet time. How are you doing with ‘loving your neighbor?’ Do the basic stuff with your whole heart, then maybe when God calls you to big stuff you’ll be able to obey Him.”

God has a way of bringing my own words back to me, when my faith wavers, and I’m not on the Top Ten Obedient Children list. Still, I love and lean with the guy in the Bible who said, “I do believe… help me with my unbelief.”

¶ 4:03 AM //