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Staff Reports
Reports of recent Trips and Work by Godspeed Missionary Care
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Staff Missionary Reports
Reports and Experiences of the Godspeed Staff
Kiev, December 2004
"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every
purpose under the heaven..."
Eccl 3:1 KJV
"To snatch the passing moment and examine it for signs of
eternity is the noblest of occupations"
Halle
The sun is setting, it is cold but clear, and I am walking
through a sea of people in the heart of Kiev, Ukraine. The
newspapers have reported more than 100,000; I have no basis
for estimating other than it being the largest group I have
ever engaged. The first impression is a carnival atmosphere;
it reminds me of a huge crowd converging on a stadium for a
championship game, except in this case everyone is rooting
for the same team and wearing the same team colors. Orange
is the color of the reform candidate's party, and is seen
everywhere: orange flags, orange banners, orange bandannas,
orange ribbons, orange headbands, orange cars, even orange
hair.
But this is more than just a colorful celebration. This is
the stuff of which history is made, a unique time in this
country. Results of the recent presidential runoff election
as reported by officials currently in power have led to a
national spontaneous protest. Reports of crude voting
manipulations abound: patients in hospitals having to trade
"correct" ballots for medical care, students having to show
their "correct" ballots to professors or risk losing their
lodging and educational status, pens at voting booths filled
with disappearing ink, one region in the eastern section of
the country reporting a robust voter turnout of 128% of
eligible voters. Kiev is the capital of Ukraine, and
protesters have filled the city from all over the country,
demanding a new election and removal of the allegedly corrupt
current president and his hand-picked replacement, the
candidate declared the winner of the runoff in spite of all
evidence to the contrary.
A main street in the center of the city is now blocked off,
occupied by thousands of (mostly) college students living in
tents. It leads from "independence square", in which has
been erected a huge stage. Giant screens give the massive
crowd close-up views of the sequence of bands and speakers
which appear on an ongoing, round-the-clock basis. Chants
start at one place in the crowd and are taken up by all, the
most common one a rhythmic "Yoo-shenk-oh, yoo-shenk-oh" as
the name of the reform candidate has become a mantra of
sorts. Car horns and other noise makers blow in the same
three-beat rhythm. Pockets of people are singing hymns and
patriotic songs. Food and drink are available, much of it
offered for free. Fathers carry their children on shoulders
so that young eyes can see what has not been seen in this
country before. And standing next to them may be a babushka,
the prototypical grandmother, wiping tears from her own eyes
of age that have seen so much but never this, as she brings
food to residents of the tent city. The throng is composed
of people of all ages and stages of life, many of whom out
of fear and intimidation have never before publicly
demonstrated for or against anything.
Up another street is a large government building, a partial
semicircle. The design is unfortunate for those who continue
to work there (many of the existing governmental officials
have exited the city; no-one at this point knows where the
president is) as across the street are some fifty steel can
drums being beaten in rhythm by protesters, day and night.
The already deafening sound is amplified and reverberated by
reflection off the parabolic structure. Further along the
same street is the presidential office building; a cordon
of riot police stand behind fenced barriers. About fifty
feet in front of them is another line, this one formed by
the protesters themselves. They do not allow any men to
go near the police line, fearing that violent confrontation
may erupt. Women bringing flowers, however, are allowed to
pass, and the barricade in front of the expressionless
policemen is filled with flowers, orange ribbons, and
balloons.
This confluence of old and young and song and speech and
smoke and noise is not without reports of conflict. Stories
of long-standing friendships torn apart by disparate political
views are heard, and divided opinions have been profound
enough in some families to cause divorce. The Ukrainian
missionary group I am here to serve has teams in all areas
of the country; those in the eastern sections where the
government candidate still has strong support must lead their
Bible discussion groups carefully to avoid the pursuit of
truth deteriorating into polemic.
So where is God in all of this? I think I have seen Him,
in the face of a caring professor who has come to the city
to teach advanced mathematics to his students who have left
their classes to live out their protest in tents; he holds
forth on a blackboard in the midst of snowflakes and smoke.
I heard Him in the voices of thousands singing the most
popular of all the national songs, one which asks God to
save Ukraine. I saw Him in a circle of people gathered
by a cross erected at the Prayer Center in the midst of
the tent city. I sensed His presence when 100,000 people
became a hushed audience as leaders of the Ukrainian
Orthodox, Catholic, Evangelical, Baptist, and Lutheran
churches joined with leaders of the Jewish community to speak
to the masses. I heard the roar of the crowd as the clerics
were then followed by Mr. Yuschenko, the reform candidate,
his face still swollen by what is rumored to have been from
an attempt on his life by poisoning several months ago.
He could have spoken for an hour; the huge crowd hung
on his every word. But he said that this was not a time
to talk politics, with so many on the dais having spoken
to God; I think I saw Him, as the candidate cut his speech
short, ending with "glory to the Ukrainian people, glory to
Ukraine, glory to God." But perhaps my clearest sighting
of God has been of the Jehovah Shalom, the God of peace,
seen in what I haven't seen: in the midst of huge numbers
of people, with powerful emotions running rampant, no
violence. No pushing, no shoving, no curt words. This
itself is a miracle.
One of the youth movements here, perhaps the most adamant,
is known as "pa-rah", loosely translated: "It is time". And
it does feel like it is time, time for this change, a time
for a people, many of whom have never prayed for anything,
to come to a place in life where they recognize there is a
God to whom they can pray for the freedom, unity, and peace
of their country. I am enormously blessed to be here to
see this process.
A lengthy letter, but so much has been seen and felt words
do not begin to suffice. Please continue to place Ukraine
before Him who is sovereign over it all. Write when you
can; your notes to me, each and every one, always arrive
at just the right time...
Godspeed,
Barney
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