Russell Media - Laurie

I’ve always had a fascination with Russia. As a child, I remember sitting and watching the hockey game in the 1980 Winter Olympic games, USA versus the USSR. The Soviet players appeared so serious and void of emotion. “Why do they look so mean?” I asked my father.

He explained the Cold War to me in age appropriate terms. An “us and them” mentality began to grow in my young mind until my dad said something that broke this chain of thought. “You have to realize it’s not the people we are against, it’s their government. It is a group of people forcing evil ways on their country. We must pray for the people in the USSR, for God to help them.”

Fourteen years later I found myself preparing to live in part of the former Soviet Union. I was headed to southern Russia as a missionary. The Iron Curtain had fallen a few years prior. The world had experienced crazy change practically overnight. I couldn’t believe it - had God heard the prayers of my father and thousands and millions of others?

Russia was my first overseas experience and in many ways like a first love. There were many firsts – international flight, foreign language, Christmas away from home, etc. It was also my first time working in full-time ministry. So I prayed like crazy and learn from a lot of trial and error.

One of my teammates and I began working with World War II veterans. We initially met them via a humanitarian project and then offered to do a Bible study with those interested. The numbers were huge in the beginning as we gave an overview of the Bible. But, as we began to focus on Jesus the numbers dwindled to a solid 20. We didn’t want to scare them all away so we toned it down a bit.

These Babushkas and Dedushkas (grandmother/grandfather) were precious and eager to learn yet there was another hurdle we faced. They refused to receive God themselves. Continually we were told, “It’s too late for us. Our lives are near the end. We must learn this so we can teach our children and grandchildren so they can have God.”

We prayed and looked for ways to show them that God’s love and peace were for all but nothing worked. The study continued but our time with them was running out. In a matter of weeks we would be heading back to the States. We decided the following week to be more direct with them as a group and as individuals. We weren’t teaching a history lesson, we were showing them how to find eternal life – regardless of age.

However, I was nervous about this – even as a missionary it wasn’t natural for me. Up to this point my faith was always safe. I kept it to myself unless others asked or if it was part of my job and I was working with another. I didn’t want to offend anyone or be too pushy. I had always played it safe.

The night before our next Bible study we were hit with a late season snowstorm. The sidewalks were covered with ice and snow. Our vets were all elderly. They wore shoes without traction and walked to bus stops. I didn’t think they’d make it. Why had I stalled?

We arrived that morning at the location of our study. My teammate and I shared the same fear – that no one would make it to our study in the snow. As we climbed the stairs to our meeting room we heard voices. “Phew…some of them made it.”

When we walked into the room, it was full! Not just a few but practically all made the journey in the snow. On the verge of tears I shared my amazement of their presence. “Oh Laurichka, of course we came. We are strong. We want to hear your lesson.”

Their eagerness to learn gave us boldness. God’s Spirit gave us the words. That day was a tipping point. They began to open up and receive God’s love for themselves that day.

I figured this study was God’s way of giving those, who had been robbed of the opportunity to learn about Him for 70 plus years, one last chance to receive Him. But…they proved me wrong.

Weeks later we had a party for us to say our good-byes. We were heading back to the States. Every single Babushka and Dedushka showed up. As we sat talking one Babushka began telling us how each week she took our lessons to her daughter’s house and shared all we had taught them with her family. Her daughter and youngest granddaughter had prayed to receive God. However, her oldest granddaughter had been more stubborn. She continued, “But this week I went over again and shared this last lesson. She got on her knees and took God as her own.”

Another lady piped in. She was going to the homes of shut-ins. They wanted to be part of our meetings but due to stairs and lack of wheelchairs, couldn’t make it. She did the same and shared God’s message with them.

I couldn’t believe it. They were earnestly seeking a treasure, walking through snowstorms to get, and found it. But, they didn’t hoard it. They walked through snowstorms to share it – over and over again.

These precious people reminded me that I’ve been given and have received a treasure in Jesus Christ. I shouldn’t be embarrassed to wear it. It’s been given for me to share it with others. If I don’t, I’m selfishly preventing others from receiving their portion of the treasure and there’s more than enough to go around.

This is still a struggle for me. I’m one who doesn’t like to offend others. But maybe that’s part of the problem. I’ve allowed myself to think of the Gospel as offensive when in reality it’s healing water. It’s a treasure to be shared freely, backed with love.

My precious friends in Russia showed me that it’s not offensive when you know your audience, have a genuine love for them and trust the Holy Spirit to give you the words. You may meet resistance but God’s love is not offensive. It’s a jewel.

Any thoughts?

Do you have the same struggles or perhaps encouraging words to help those of us who do?

Noah, our 9-year-old, was in a slump recently…a little league batting slump that is. He was hitting well the beginning of the season then in one game, three of his teammates hit homeruns…over the fence! It was awesome and homerun was a goal to obtain.

Noah came home that day talking about the homeruns and even prayed for one of his own. The next game I noticed anxiety in his body language. His fingers rolled, hips swayed and his nose wrinkled. He wanted a homerun and it showed in his swing. On each pitch he swung as if he were fighting off a charging mountain lion.

Swoosh... 

He managed to get on base most of the time but the quality of his hits had suffered. The slump continued for a few games and it began eating away at his confidence. I noticed a new nervousness in his stance during the games and a quietness in his persona afterwards.

Mark worked with him on his batting. One day he called Noah’s coach, Aaron, to see if the batting cages were open. He told Mark he was heading up there with his son and invited Mark and Noah to join him and he’d work with Noah too. When they got there, another teammate was there. He had some trouble with batting in the last game and Aaron called and invited him to join them.

Later that evening Mark came home he told me about it. We were both amazed with Aaron’s dedication to the boys on his team. He travels a good bit with work so he doesn’t have an abundance of free time. So sharing the free time he has with his son with other people’s kids is pretty huge.

Last night Anastasia had a Daisy meeting. So I dropped her off and Noah and I went across the street to practice batting. He was hitting like crazy. He was smiling and enjoying the time. His confidence had increased. I commented on the improvement to which he said, “Coach Aaron told me when to lift my foot and when to swing the bat. Now I know when to do it.”

You see, I never would have known to tell him this but that tidbit of knowledge is helping him improve in his hitting. For a 9-year-old who loves baseball, this knowledge is huge and helping him to feel whole. This is important to him in this time in his life and it’s spilling over into other areas.

There’s a passage in the Bible when children wanted to spend time with Jesus. Adults around him were shooing them away thinking Jesus was too important to spend his free time with kids. Jesus quickly admonished the adults and invited the children to join him. He knew He had something to offer that they needed…his time and his wisdom.

I adore my children and try to give them what they need to help them become their best. But there are some things in life I just don’t know (okay…a lot of things.) Coach Aaron didn’t brush off my kid and his teammate that day, he invited them in. He shared with them his time and knowledge.

Now I’m not saying we should all go teach Sunday school or coach our kid’s team. Do only what God has asked of you. However, my point is whenever you are with children, don’t consider it wasted. You’re making an impact on their lives and helping them grow into the man or woman they are to become.

Coach Aaron gave to Noah that day and last night I saw how he had grown because of it. So to the coach Aarons of the world, I thank you. You are a blessing to our children and to us. Thank you for challenging me to do the same.

Do you have a “Coach Aaron” in your life?

Any ideas on ways we can become one ourself?