But in Moldova, this weather also means that it is the season of fur—fur hats, fur coats, fur trimmed parkas.  There seems to be a fur hat perched on half the population.

Some hats resemble dandelion puffs, encapsulating the entire head, while others perch precariously like a thimble on a too-fat finger.  Some are dainty and delicate, while others look like road kill that was scraped off the highway.  Some pelts are recognizable as mink or fox, while there is some fur that defies no other description than mangy!

People wear the myriad of fur garments for one reason—to stay warm.  Most church services have no heat and classrooms are cold enough that students need long johns and sweaters to stay.  Style and fashion are far less important than pure heat-sustainment.

When you are cold, you will do and wear almost anything to get heat.

The spiritual situation in Moldova is very much the same, a frozen landscape of lifeless souls.  The difference is that there is often just enough religiosity that people have the edge taken off their spiritual hunger.  They aren’t cold enough to seek out the heat.

I know the answer for our nation is not joining another church, but it is found in knowing Christ, his grace and mercy.  I pray that people will awaken to find themselves ready to seek something more than the standard targets: religion, materialism, pleasure.

I pray for Gina* at the Home of Hope, that her spiritual coldness will no longer bind her heart, but that she will seek the warmth of Jesus’ forgiveness.
I pray for my next-door neighbor, that he will burn with a desire for more than the religion he finds in his annual pilgrimage to a lifeless church service.
I pray for the pew-warming Christian, content with comfort and her safe walk with God, that she will seek the fire of the Holy Spirit, empowered to the great adventure.

I know this cold snap will soon be gone, but what about the spiritual tundra?  What will it take for the cold hearts to snap; apathy replaced with hunger, hurts replaced with healing?  What is our share of doing His work?  What can we do?

Praying for warming in Moldova,
Andy Raatz

• Changed lives at the Home of Hope, where those formerly broken will become whole.
• Vibrant churches to be founded in communities where there are still none.
• Our first wells to be dug, blessing villages with the Church’s expression of love.
• Divine opportunities to share with our neighbors about Christ’s grace.

I believe in miracles.

I was just in the new construction in the village of Bubieci.  Three teams labored with the church this fall, pouring walls and a ceiling.  For the first time ever, the church will have their own home.  I stood inside a miracle.

Yesterday I stood in the burned-out ruins of the church in Mihaileni Noi.  After three years of labor, they now have to start from scratch, rebuilding the roof before snow flies.  I stood on the site of a future miracle.

Today I will sit with Ala*, a young woman at the Home of Hope.  She is struggling to believe that she is worthy of God’s forgiveness and love. Yet her smiles and peaceful demeanor remind me of a HUGE miracle, a God-designed transformation.  Today I will be with an ongoing miracle.

I know there are cynics that can give explanations.  You can say people built the church in Bubuieci, not God.  You can’t explain the former drug-addict so changed by God’s grace that he gave 10 days in Moldova to work on that building..

You can explain Mihaileni as human endeavor, but it is hard to explain the hope and vision of fifty people who labored in cold weather, cleaning out burned out timbers, crying at the loss but determined to rebuild.  One pastor is a former drunk, changed ten years ago, now serving with joy rather than blood-shot eyes.

You absolutely cannot explain away a supernatural healing on Ala* and her baby months ago. The doctor told her the infection was impossible, that both she and the baby were at risk. The staff at the Home of Hope gathered with her, and twenty hours later, the doctor could not find any sign of infection…and a healthy baby is now born.

You are right.  A lot of the miracles take human involvement.  We have poured a lot of concrete in Bubuieci.  We have given finances to buy metal for a roof.  We have counseled and talked to the women and the Home of Hope.  There is a factor of God working through us.

Yet only God can do some miracles.  Ala’s* smile is a miracle—because I know that it reveals God’s healing of her heart.  Pastor Sasha’s church is a miracle—starting with Pastor Sasha, an agnostic-now-joy-filled believer.  And the rebuilding of the church in Mihaileni will be a miracle, beginning with the joy of the rebuilders.

Today, I hope you can give thanks to a God that does miracles.  Some of His miracles are done through us.  But the miracles of the heart are His alone.

Serving in Moldova.
Andy Raatz

I get to serve Christ in Moldova.

As I drove back from a small village this week, swerving around potholes and squinting through the fog, my mind fixated on how fortunate I am to serve in this country. I detest the concept that I am sacrificing, but smile at the thought of being blessed.

Earlier that day, I chatted with an old married couple of 89 and 86 years of age. My new friend fought in World War II, but on a different front. I saw their tiny home, heard their stories, and talked to them about Christ.

As we handed bags of groceries to the neediest in the village of Baraboi, I joked with people who had spent their entire life in that village. I prayed with an old woman who still doesn’t know Christ, but is concerned for her sick daughter.

From the earliest ages, parents are always telling their children, “Say thank you” every time they receive a gift. I need to say thanks every hour, because every moment in God’s service is an incredible gift.

I’m not trying to be so Pollyannish that I have my head in the clouds. There are headaches in ministry–hours counseling people with family problems, hearing untrue accusations about your character, sleepless nights praying about issues in the church.

I cannot speak like Paul and talk about beatings and shipwrecks. My headaches are more from elbowing through the crowd at passport control, bouncing on roads worse than road construction, and speaking Russian all day until my brain is sprained. I occasionally miss kettle corn, aged cheddar cheese, and Giordano’s pizza. Mostly I miss seeing my family often, celebrating special times with each other.

Yet I am blessed.

I am watching the church being built in Bubuieci, a miracle happening before my eyes. I get to hug the three little girls at the Home of Hope, showing them and their mothers that men CAN be good and honorable. I am building spiritual bridges with the elderly as I hand them a bag of groceries and talk of God’s love.

How did I get so lucky? How did I win this lottery? Why do I have the privilege of talking about Jesus to an agnostic, praying with a religious non-believer, and befriending sinners of every shape and form?

For our situation, it is because of you, those that pray and support the work in Moldova. You are a part of the miracles in Moldova. Maybe it is because I keep saying yes to wherever God is leading us on the next adventure (and some are crazy)!

Yet we all need to stop and give thanks to God for the privilege of being used by Him. Life with Christ is an adventure, whether Moldova or Main Street. Jump in and go for it!

Blessed out of my socks in Moldova,

Andy

Sounds amazing, but as we drove home from the airport, our girls kept talking about how much they missed seeing street dogs. They enjoyed the time at our bi-annual conference in America, but there are no packs of street mutts roaming Orlando. Their running commentary on the drive consisted of “there’s a pup!” and “look, another dog!”

I never even thought about the dogs while we were gone. Sure, I drive by them every day. I have a couple seconds of sorrow when I see one dead on the road, especially if it is one of the dogs I recognize. But I have never missed the dogs when away!

We each have our idea of normality, and for our girls, street dogs are normal. After 6+ years in Moldova, normality now means: peaches with flavor, roosters crowing at 5 am, squatty potties in the village, passport control lines, walking in the vineyard, people standing shoulder to shoulder, selling produce on the sidewalks.

That is normality now.

It also means friendships with women who used to be prostitutes, lunches with former drug addicts, and ministry with pastors who used to be in prison. It means vacillating emotions of discouragement and faith as we preach in our new language, serve in a different culture, and attempt to do things far beyond our natural abilities.

The normal Christian life is an incredible adventure. There is something about living this journey that makes everything else seem boring. It is exhilarating to see people find freedom in Christ, watch marriages miraculously restored, and observe God’s peace come in the midst of chaos. Normality includes God’s miraculous provision, His supernatural “coincidences,” and His soft discipline.

God desires to use each of us, working through us in reconciliation, healing, prayer, encouragement, or partnership. It might be something as simple as a God-directed phone call or a Spirit-led prayer. It might mean praying for divine healing or supporting someone in a dark time.

Just start living God’s normal life. Step out and ask God to make your life the one He desires. What is God doing in your “normal” life today? What do you want Him to do? Are you ready for this kind of normality?

Your normal missionary in Moldova,

Andy Raatz

PS: Thanks for being a part of the “normal” work in Moldova. We need your prayers and support for the COH outreaches in October, for the daily miracles needed in the Home of Hope, and for the huge church construction in Bubuieci.

As we stood on the cliff, I noticed two men fishing on the river below.  They were standing in an old, rusty, metal boat, tossing nets into the river.  About every couple minutes, they would pull up the net, coil it, and toss it again.  I saw one small silver fish flopping in the boat, but it appeared to be a relatively fruitless endeavor.

After watching the fishing, I found myself looking at the faces of women who were lost when they came to the Home of Hope.  They are now all found.  We started the work praying to survive one more day. We prayed that they would actually stay in the house, that they wouldn’t get in a fight that night or that they would not throw something in anger.

Now we are seeing smiles, peace, and joy.

There are plenty of challenges ahead.   Salvation is often a process, but we are seeing progress.  All have come to an understanding of Jesus’ grace, seeing Christ bring life to their spirits.  We are witnessing a spiritual resurrection.

Jesus understood the fishing process when he told his followers that they would become fishers of men.  He knew that fishing does not mean a fish on the line (or in the net) at every cast.  It takes patience and persistence.  It takes a commitment to casting the net…over and over and over

When I am weary of casting the net one more time, I need to remember the reward of transformed lives.  There have been countless nights that Nancy and I have lain in bed, wondering why we even started the task.  We’ve half-joked with each other that “life would have been easier if we hadn’t started this thing!”  But as we enjoyed our field trip, celebrating a day out as family, I saw miracles all around us.

I often still wrestle with the burden of the lost in Moldova.  I can walk the streets in our village and I wonder how to cast the net to reach our neighbors.  How can we share Christ’s mercy with those that are violently opposed, or stuck in religiosity, or drunk every other night?

I guess we just keep casting.  We must not grow weary, disillusioned, or cynical.  Keep casting.  Keep serving.  Keep giving.  Keep befriending.  Keep praying.

Continuing to toss the net in Moldova,
Andy Raatz

The church in this village is quite young.  When Stefan received that call few years ago, the church was new with only a handful of members.  Everyone in the village was against them.  Even the other churches were fighting against them.  People wanted to see the church fail.

So when Stefan received that request for prayer from the major, he was suspicious.  When pressed, the major admitted that the priest had made the suggestion.  There hadn’t been rain for three months.  Without rain, there wouldn’t be any harvest.  In Moldova that means no food for the winter.  If the mayor could force the Pentecostal church to pray and nothing happened, it would be enough reason to run them out of town as heretics.

As Stefan sat with the mayor, he felt God say to him, “Tell him it will rain Friday.”  Stefan quickly pushed that thought aside.  He didn’t want to stick his neck out like that!  Yet the thought returned, “Tell him it will rain Friday.”  Again, he tried to dismiss the thought.

Suddenly Stefan realized his mouth was moving, saying the words that he kept trying to swallow!  It was too late to take them back, so he called the believers together that Wednesday evening, asking them to fast and pray for rain.

They fasted and prayed, trusting God for a miracle.  Three months with no rain, the forecast showing no change ahead.  The future of the church was teetering.

Friday night it rained.

As a boy, I faced lots of dares–truth and dare, double-dog dares, dares of courage and stupidity.  Childhood dares normally involve LOTS of stupidity!  Stepping out in faith and trusting God to work a miracle is NOT in the realm of stupidity, when God has asked you to do it. When God asks you to step out and trust Him, you will find that He is trustworthy.

When we play it safe, we are forcing ourselves down a miracle-less path.  We are destined to see the 5000 walk away hungry rather than fed by a miracle.  We are stuck with building our own tiny kingdom rather than seeing God build His kingdom.  We are stuck with ourselves.

When God asks us to give financially, we are faced with a dare.  Do you dare risk your little with God’s ability to provide?  Do I dare risk sacrificing some pleasure (coffee, new clothes, new toys) with the intangible reward of eternal investment?

The dare to step out and trust hits us in a myriad of decisions.  Can we risk our reputation by sharing about Christ?  Can we risk our pride by trying to start a ministry?  Can we risk our hearts by caring about someone?  Can we risk our lives by trusting Jesus with everything?

The Bible is full of dares.  God challenges you to love.  To give.  To pray.  To believe.  To trust in the dark times.  To minister.  To tithe.  To speak the truth in love.  To forgive (even if the other person never gets their just dues).  To preach.  To hold on when you don’t hear His voice.

Maybe you are not asked to pray for rain, but do what God has asked you to do.  He will not let you down.

Daring to believe in Moldova,
Andy Raatz

Our new language sentence structures are quite different than English. To speak Russian, I have rewired my brain to work backwards. I know there are those who would say that my brain has always needed some rewiring, but now even my English is messed up.

I also understand enough Romanian to mix in phrases. I slip in some sentences that are part Russian and part Romanian, creating a mixed language that is quite common in Moldova. I find myself choosing the easiest-to-say phrase from the three languages.

It dawned on my today that language learning is a great picture of my spiritual growth. Before I knew Christ as my Savior, I spoke pure “ME” language. Life was centered on my pleasures and benefits. When Jesus brought this dead heart to life, I had to learn a totally new language. I had to rewire my brain to speak His language.

It is not an easy process.

Christ speaks the language of servanthood. I speak the language of privilege and comfort.
God speaks the language of forgiveness. I speak the language of just dues .
Jesus speaks the language of grace. I speak the language of duty and works.

As I have learned to speak God’s language, I understand that our ministry is really about teaching His language as well. In Moldova, countless kids speak the language of rejection. I want to teach them the language of Christ’s nonjudgmental acceptance. The women Nancy works with have heard only the language of destruction, whereas we want to teach the words of new life.

My desire is to be totally fluent in both Russian and Romanian. I want to be able to read War and Peace in Russian, the New Testament in Romanian, and still be able to write a NY Times best-selling book in English.

Yet I really want to learn how to speak as Jesus spoke.
I want to hear a new language spoken in Moldova.

You are never to old to for language learning.

Being rewired in Moldova,
Andy Raatz

I have heard that phrase countless times over the years, usually tossing it off as a salesman’s pitch to close the deal. Both secular and religious leaders have used the concept as a way to force the decision or empty the wallet.

Yet I have suddenly felt that those words are not simply a nice cliche, but reality. Missions has taken on urgency, knowing that our time and opportunities are limited.

Last week our country experienced violence in the city center as thousands protested the results of the latest election. We were glued to the internet, trying to sort out facts from rumors, wondering what would happen next. My mind raced to our friends’ similar situation in Madagascar this year, ending in their temporary evacuation. Would we be next?

Thankfully our scenario did not escalate, but I was struck with the rapidness of how everything can change. My urgency level elevated to level RED. I now realize the pressure of time, never knowing when the door will slam shut. There is a need to press forward today, not postponing until later.

A girl in the Home of Hope has shared two of her dreams with Nancy. Both dreams were visions of her in a dark place, with the arms of the HOH staff pulling her out into the light. What if someone wasn’t there for her? What if we had waited?

Can we afford to wait? Can we delay?

• In the region of Ungheni, there are 74 towns, yet only 3 churches. In a country with few cars, that means 71 villages in just that region that have no chance to hear. Can we delay in church planting and outreach until the perfect time and adequate resources?
• Can I afford to delay the building for the church in the city of Bubieci? What happens when they lose their current building?
• At the Home of Hope, the lives of many girls hang by a thread, with the forces of darkness trying to drag them back. Can I wait until I feel capable of the task?
• Teen Challenge center’s well ran dry while thirty people are living there, finding freedom from drugs. Where are the funds to repair?

Whether Jesus returns to earth today or we are forced to leave Moldova tomorrow, there is urgency to the task. Whether I have another 50 years upon this earth or if my life is snatched away tomorrow, the clock is winding down.

Don’t wait to serve in your church until you have more free time. Don’t wait to give until you have excess. Don’t wait to pray until you have your life in control. I can plan for the next decades, but I must live as if today may be the last day to make a difference.

Today is the day. We might not have another.

Realizing the urgency,
Andy Raatz