em•pa•thy \em-pa-thee\ The action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another….

What do you think of when you here the word “sauna?” Do you imagine a nice, warm, soothing time? Do you imagine those tepid rooms that many hotels offer near their swimming pool? If so, you have never experienced a Russian sauna!

I recently spent a week at our annual pastors’ conference. Every evening I went to Sasha’s house to warm up in his Russian sauna (and remember what a warm shower felt like). I love a sauna—intense heat, lots of sweat, and a cold douse with ice water. I even love the Russian technique of getting thrashed with oak branches. I’m not sure what the reason is for the practice, but it actually feels quite good! I’m not into flagellation as a way to purify sin, but it definitely gets the sweat pouring!

But that week, I did not simply sit in a sauna. I sat in an oven! I now have lots of empathy, especially for a loaf of baking bread. I know how a roasting turkey feels, for I have experienced everything but the basting.

Without exaggeration, our sauna ran at 100-110 degrees Celsius (about 212-230 degrees Fahrenheit). When Sasha dumped the water on the rocks, the humidity shot up to 25%, and I did not know whether I was simply warm or overbaked. I was half-expecting my belly button to pop out, saying that I was finished cooking.

I’ll never look at the Thanksgiving turkey without a flicker of understanding. I now have empathy.

Understanding is always difficult. We can say the words “I understand,” but too often they are still simply that—words. True understanding always comes when we are close enough to someone to sense their heartbeat—whether a heartbeat of pain or of joy. We feel the burdens that they are carrying through life.

Moldova has given me tremendous lessons on empathy. I better understand the challenges of daily living—cold trips to the outhouse, continual treks to the well for water. I understand the feeling of cold feet in an unheated church. I empathize for the pastor struggling to lead four churches in four different villages. The people of Moldova are not merely statistics—they are my friends.

In order to minister as Christ did, we must be close enough to feel. We cannot simply shout gospel messages from a distance, but we must get close. For the Church to have impact, it must develop a heart that bleeds for the lost and hurting people in this world. We must have empathy for the successful businessman, searching for life’s ultimate meaning. We need understanding for the college student, partying as if there is no tomorrow. We need empathy for the single parent, struggling to raise a couple of children on an inadequate income.

The book of Hebrews says that “…we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way….”

You don’t have to be abused in order to understand abused women. You don’t have to live a wild life in order to understand the emptiness of hedonism. You don’t have to convert the Hinduism to understand the lostness of an empty religion. But you have to get close.

Jesus comes close to each of us—and he understands. Let us become a church that does the same. Let us become a church of impact, hurting and bleeding for the world, our friends.

Your missionaries to Moldova ,

Andy Raatz