Daughter Russia: Pretend Moldova (World Race)
So I know, this is like a month late, and I’m in Mozambique now, and we
always wanna read about the new stuff, but you’re gonna have to wait on
that, at least from me. Because meaningful things have happened, so I
thought I’d give you a recap of Moldova… in three parts. Why? Well,
because we lived it in 3 parts. Don’t ask such pushy questions! Geez!
Here’s part one, more is pending posting.
This is more of a recounting of events than an exploration of deeper concepts. Unveiled Pursuit(UP) had a little secret unveiled to us. There’s a place called Tr ansni stria, or as I like to call it “Daughter Russia.” It’s a pretend country, a political Narnia, if you will in that “monstrously” dominates the eastern landscape, of what most of those who know of Moldova, think is Moldova. People think it’s Moldova, partly because it is, but this Soviet nook is it’s own deal, complete with Russian military, and their own currency, the rubel, which takes it’s namesake from Mother Russia’s currency, which is about 3 times weaker than it’s daughter. But don’t mind that, no one else in the world will take the Transnistrian currency, on account of it being “fake.”
When you enter Tra nsnis tria they give you a sheet of paper to keep until you exit the country. A gentleman at the border also going thru said, “Don’t lose that paper, or they’ll *expletive deleted* you.”
I lost the paper…
Digression? Check!
We found ourselves in our first week of “Moldovian” ministry in the Transnistrian capital of Tiraspol, complete with Lenin statue and creepy Soviet music occasionally pumped through street speakers. But we didn’t just come here to be absorbed into the ussr (conspicuous lower case inconspicuous pun alert), we came to teach. And, if you wanna be specific our method of ministry was to teach English with CRU(Campus Crusade for Christ), that’s also what our method was if you don’t wanna be specific. (That’s what we call “unconditional purpose in relation to whether or not you wanna be specific”, and by “we” I mean “me” and anyone else who agrees). I think it’s time for digressing… so I will.
Mr. Tumnus was nowhere to be found, but there were awesome helps like Igor, Dima, and company who we worked with.. whom we worked with? Who we worked with… eh whatever…
By day we split up, some of us went to teach English in a high school and let the children see real life Americans (and Canadian) for the first, and potentially, only time ever in person. The rest of us would go to campus and co-vertly invite people to English club.
Ohhh Tiraspol English Club… You were great. You taught me to teach… English … good… errr I mean “well.” I think. Irregardless, it was a great time. We split the students up into 3 levels( zero, easy, and hard), or beginner, intermediate, and advanced for those of you desire that I use my mental thesaurus for clarification. Each class got 2 racers, Mike and Becca took the advanced class, Rebecca and Mike intermediated their way thru a class of mediumenglishspeaker-ites, and the beginner class had Dania and me-self.
We worked through this and that… literally, and some of these and those… no… for real. And of course we touched many more of the delightful grammatical intricacies o’ the English language, all the while getting the chance to know some new wonderful people.
English club got a few of us invited to be “guest lecturers” in a university class, which is a second or third for me, but a first in a political anomaly. And after that we went to walk around and invite more students to good ole English club when one of our students grabs me and invites me for an impromptu appearance in a class of 3rd or 4th year journalism students, all who spoke English students.
It was one of the coolest experiences I’ve had on this trip. As I suddenly sat, they insisted I sit, and shared about my journey and how they can use their profession to better lives and the world, with what I think are potentially some of the greatest minds the world may never get a chance to know if they remain in their current political state. None of them ever came to English club, but I hope a seed was planted.
But back to English Club… at the end of the week, we got to share the Gospel, and I mean legitimately share THE Gospel and love of Jesus in a verbal way, to a room of 50 or more people who’ve had their view of Jesus blinded and twisted by their political covering and an orthodox church which has lost its way. Many of these people had never heard the gospel in this way, and may never hear it again, but they have heard now. That was a humbling experience for sure, one I’m thankful to have been blessed with. This is what it’s about, sharing Jesus, not just doing good things. And for probably the most unadulterated time up to that point on the race I was able to do it in Trans nistr ia.
Spoiler Alert: It wasn’t the last.
I pray it settled in with someone.
On Sunday we went to church, as is custom among many groups of Christians, and it was their Easter. YAY! TWO EASTERS!!! (The orthodox calendar Easter this year was a week after protestant Easter). And I got to give my first ever Easter sermon… another humbling experience. At the end of the service they brought us up and thanked us for coming and said (in Russian of course)… it’s a good week, none of you were arrested. Which I think put it in perspective. We had been in legitimate danger of being arrested for sharing the Gospel of Jesus openly. Don’t worry mom. I wasn’t arrested… for sharing the Gospel (this time).
Remember how I said I lost my paper that I was NOT supposed to lose…
I didn’t find it, but I had another week in Transnistria, before it became an issue. To see how the story unfolds stay tuned to the rest of my Moldovan blogs, which will doubtedly be coming soon...
TO BE CONTINUED... (Lord Willin')
This is more of a recounting of events than an exploration of deeper concepts. Unveiled Pursuit(UP) had a little secret unveiled to us. There’s a place called Tr ansni stria, or as I like to call it “Daughter Russia.” It’s a pretend country, a political Narnia, if you will in that “monstrously” dominates the eastern landscape, of what most of those who know of Moldova, think is Moldova. People think it’s Moldova, partly because it is, but this Soviet nook is it’s own deal, complete with Russian military, and their own currency, the rubel, which takes it’s namesake from Mother Russia’s currency, which is about 3 times weaker than it’s daughter. But don’t mind that, no one else in the world will take the Transnistrian currency, on account of it being “fake.”
When you enter Tra nsnis tria they give you a sheet of paper to keep until you exit the country. A gentleman at the border also going thru said, “Don’t lose that paper, or they’ll *expletive deleted* you.”
I lost the paper…
Digression? Check!
We found ourselves in our first week of “Moldovian” ministry in the Transnistrian capital of Tiraspol, complete with Lenin statue and creepy Soviet music occasionally pumped through street speakers. But we didn’t just come here to be absorbed into the ussr (conspicuous lower case inconspicuous pun alert), we came to teach. And, if you wanna be specific our method of ministry was to teach English with CRU(Campus Crusade for Christ), that’s also what our method was if you don’t wanna be specific. (That’s what we call “unconditional purpose in relation to whether or not you wanna be specific”, and by “we” I mean “me” and anyone else who agrees). I think it’s time for digressing… so I will.
Mr. Tumnus was nowhere to be found, but there were awesome helps like Igor, Dima, and company who we worked with.. whom we worked with? Who we worked with… eh whatever…
By day we split up, some of us went to teach English in a high school and let the children see real life Americans (and Canadian) for the first, and potentially, only time ever in person. The rest of us would go to campus and co-vertly invite people to English club.
Ohhh Tiraspol English Club… You were great. You taught me to teach… English … good… errr I mean “well.” I think. Irregardless, it was a great time. We split the students up into 3 levels( zero, easy, and hard), or beginner, intermediate, and advanced for those of you desire that I use my mental thesaurus for clarification. Each class got 2 racers, Mike and Becca took the advanced class, Rebecca and Mike intermediated their way thru a class of mediumenglishspeaker-ites, and the beginner class had Dania and me-self.
We worked through this and that… literally, and some of these and those… no… for real. And of course we touched many more of the delightful grammatical intricacies o’ the English language, all the while getting the chance to know some new wonderful people.
English club got a few of us invited to be “guest lecturers” in a university class, which is a second or third for me, but a first in a political anomaly. And after that we went to walk around and invite more students to good ole English club when one of our students grabs me and invites me for an impromptu appearance in a class of 3rd or 4th year journalism students, all who spoke English students.
It was one of the coolest experiences I’ve had on this trip. As I suddenly sat, they insisted I sit, and shared about my journey and how they can use their profession to better lives and the world, with what I think are potentially some of the greatest minds the world may never get a chance to know if they remain in their current political state. None of them ever came to English club, but I hope a seed was planted.
But back to English Club… at the end of the week, we got to share the Gospel, and I mean legitimately share THE Gospel and love of Jesus in a verbal way, to a room of 50 or more people who’ve had their view of Jesus blinded and twisted by their political covering and an orthodox church which has lost its way. Many of these people had never heard the gospel in this way, and may never hear it again, but they have heard now. That was a humbling experience for sure, one I’m thankful to have been blessed with. This is what it’s about, sharing Jesus, not just doing good things. And for probably the most unadulterated time up to that point on the race I was able to do it in Trans nistr ia.
Spoiler Alert: It wasn’t the last.
I pray it settled in with someone.
On Sunday we went to church, as is custom among many groups of Christians, and it was their Easter. YAY! TWO EASTERS!!! (The orthodox calendar Easter this year was a week after protestant Easter). And I got to give my first ever Easter sermon… another humbling experience. At the end of the service they brought us up and thanked us for coming and said (in Russian of course)… it’s a good week, none of you were arrested. Which I think put it in perspective. We had been in legitimate danger of being arrested for sharing the Gospel of Jesus openly. Don’t worry mom. I wasn’t arrested… for sharing the Gospel (this time).
Remember how I said I lost my paper that I was NOT supposed to lose…
I didn’t find it, but I had another week in Transnistria, before it became an issue. To see how the story unfolds stay tuned to the rest of my Moldovan blogs, which will doubtedly be coming soon...
TO BE CONTINUED... (Lord Willin')
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