It’s been a year since I wrote here—which, in itself, is crazy. Last year I was eagerly adding more people to my team and praying fervently that I’d be fully funded so I could begin my work in Athens as soon as I finished my last training in February. Little did I realize I’d go through a surgery before going to the field. Little did I anticipate losing my grandfather and how close I’d grow to my cousin through her sickness. Little did I expect how difficult yet exciting the transition would be. And, little did I know how much a short amount of time would change who I am.
Since arriving in Greece in early April, nothing has been what I expected. As I sit back and think on this year—since pensive reflections are necessary with the ending of years and decades—I consider what God has done and what I’ve left undone. Of my sanctification in general and my sin in particular. I’ve got new eyes to my life, which is both terrifying and electrifying. I think moving across cultures can do that.
Perhaps that most exciting thing that’s happened since arriving is getting clarity on my call. I wanted to write stories of refugees, of their faith transformations and of God’s sanctifying work in their lives. I didn’t know what that looked like, exactly. Though I knew what the ministry in Athens was about, the depth and meaning and heart behind it hadn’t sunk in. It’s one thing to hear about something and briefly experience it, it’s quite another to live and breathe it.
I’ve been so struck at the amazing work of the At Home Project and was excited about joining the work. But I didn’t understand the layers of the ministry as I do now. Of course, the work itself has morphed since I’ve been here, too. I set out to tell the story of what God was doing, but little did I realize He would focus my skills and abilities in such a way that would inspire me as nothing as done before.
I’ve had the great privilege of getting to know refugees from Iran, Syria and Afghanistan through the work of the At Home Project. These families aren’t refugees to me though: they are dear friends with stories of pain and suffering, joy and hope. As I got to know them, the refugees changed from numbers to people. I’d had the experience before in short-term trips, but knowing these lovely people day in and day out, walking in life with them etches their stories into your own heart. Their pain is my pain. Their joy is my joy. And it’s been extremes of both the entire time.
My clarity for my work came as I grew to know the ladies at the At Home Project. I realized the story of the house they live in, the people who live there, the ministry of the Greek Evangelical Church of Glyfada and the faith that changes and propels them all was a gift I’d been given—a gift given not to keep as my own, but to use my writing skills to amplify their voices. I felt God opening the doors for me to tell this unique story. And so far, it’s been an adventure.
By far the hardest thing was the language barrier, but hugs and kisses cross all boundaries. They don’t, however, tell life stories. After many months of struggle, I found an incredible translator who has opened up the doors for writing a book. I know the ladies so much more and can sit with them as they painfully yet joyfully recount their lives’ tales. It’s been the honor and privilege of my life to get to know these women and I want to share with you what incredible faith and character and love they have in a forthcoming book.
Some of them fled their home countries from war, some from persecution of their faith, others as political refugees. Their strength is unparalleled, even if they don’t believe it themselves. They have leaned on God in more ways than I can begin to recount and hoped in a hope that is everlasting—or at least are exploring what that hope means. I wish you could meet each one and see their love, hope and gratitude.
That’s what I hope to do in the upcoming book: share the lives of these ladies, their stories of faith, of leaving their home countries and getting to Greece; the realities of living in Greece as a refugee and life after the At Home Project.
In future posts, I’ll tell you more about what the At Home Project does, but for now, know there are a small number of Greek Evangelicals loving and caring for those who have been forgotten and despised. It’s a beautiful way that lives out the gospel. Is it perfect? Definitely not. But it shows that even a small group of people making a difference in the lives of a few refugees can transform a crisis into an opportunity to share the love of Christ with others—be they brothers and sisters in Christ or not.
I’m currently working on a book proposal that I’ll be sending to agents in the new year. If you’d like stay updated keep looking to my blog and my instagram, totellthestory. More coming soon!