Harvest Moldova

Moldovan Resurrection

Andy Raatz — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 06:54:18 +0000

I always thought miracles would look more impressive: a crippled man leaping, someone walking on water, a check showing up in the mail the exact day it was needed. I’ve always envisioned miracles as events that amaze doctors and defy scientific explanation. This week we celebrate Easter, remembering the greatest miracle–Christ’s resurrection.

The miracle I saw the other day didn’t fit any of those categories.

That miracle is different, weighing in at 35 pounds, standing 30 inches tall, and sporting a smile that can melt the hardest heart.

Nika* is the daughter of one of the young women at Freedom Home. Her mom came with a hard but typical story: sold by her own mom, trafficked to the streets of Moscow, abused and broken by a harsh world. Nika and her mom came to the home after authorities found Nika on a sidewalk in Chisinau, playing next her drunk and passed-out mother.

The two of them came lost, broken, and written off by the world. They were a “lost cause,” not worth much to anyone.

But God did not see Nika or her mom as irredeemable. He saw them as miracles waiting to happen. It has taken two years, but Nika and her mom are now totally new people.

Two weeks ago, we babysat this “miracle.” While her mom attended a prayer retreat, Nika stayed with our family. Her two-year-old curiosity and mischievousness is fun to watch. Her smile is so endearing that we laugh as we say no. Her love of life is infectious, and hugs are quickly given.

As I watched her getting into everything, I dawned on me that this girl is as much a miracle as Lazarus resurrection. If not for the grace of God, her heart and spirit would be dead. Those smiles of joy would never have life. Nika’s very existence is a miracle.

I have never witnessed a lame man leap nor helped feed five thousand with a small boy’s lunch. I have never observed anyone walk on water nor seen a dead man hop out of a tomb. But I get to witness miracles every day.

I see Nika’s mom full of God’s Spirit rather than drunk on vodka. I see Nika with eyes full of joy rather than fear. I see a spiritual resurrection.

I see Easter every day.

Praying for plenty more miracles in Moldova,
Andy

Just Enough

Andy Raatz — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 17:54:52 +0000

Just enough.

I really dislike those words. I prefer a buffer, a safe zone. I’d rather have plenty stored up for a rainy day.

I haven’t been able to get manna out of my thoughts lately. I read in Exodus how God provided manna each morning for the children of Israel. He miraculously gave them food to eat.

God gave just enough.

They were to collect just enough for one day. If they kept more it would spoil. On the sixth day, they were to collect enough for two days. That day it would NOT spoil. If they went out to collect on the Sabbath day, they wouldn’t find a flake.

Why did God do that? Why didn’t God send a month’s supply so the Israelites could stock up and forget about it? Why didn’t He send it seven days a week, rather than doing the six days on, one day off pattern? How does any of this apply to missions, to Moldova, and to you and me?

God wanted to teach them that He supplied their daily needs. They could depend upon Him to supply enough. It also reveals our tendency to forget our dependency on Him. We have a great predisposition to take blessings for granted. We might say “thanks” the first week of a miraculous provision, but then we start assuming the manna will always be there. Worse yet, we start rationalizing that perhaps it wasn’t God providing after all.

In missions, we are constantly reminded of our need and our dependence. We don’t have enough resources amassed for the month or year ahead. We are dependent each month on people who invest in the ministry, but I don’t want to begin to assume it will be there. It is God that is our provider, not moving stories, photos, or sermons. It is Him.

This Sunday I will stand to preach. Do I assume the Holy Spirit will cover for me?
This month I need $4000 to cover the Freedom Home expenses. Do I assume someone will supply?
This year we will install village wells, repair roofs on churches, and purchase a transition apartment for the girls ready to leave Freedom Home. Do I assume a good newsletter will bring in the funds?

God is so faithful. He took care of the children of Israel and He takes care of us. We had the manna yesterday, and I need to trust Him that there will be just enough for tomorrow. Just enough.

Lord, help me to remember that You are my provider. You have involved us in the task, but we are not the ones who create the manna. Help me not take You for granted. Help me not to rely on human means for Your task. Give us this day our daily bread. Amen.

Thankful for His manna,

Andrew Raatz

True Courage

Andy Raatz — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 04:57:47 +0000

I have always thought that I had courage.

I have no fear of heights, and love to stand on the edge of a cliff. I’ve stuffed snakes in my pockets, let spiders walk on my arms, and once had a pet mouse that would sit on my shoulder. Darkness doesn’t bother me, especially after countless trips out of the mountains in inky darkness. I’ve almost managed to get past my fear of public speaking, in English and now in Russian.

But I am a coward compared to Mary*.

Mary is a meek, mousy, nervous girl at the Freedom Home. Her story of trafficking is typical: no parents, raised in a Moldovan orphanage, naïve, and susceptible. She experienced plenty of horrors during the time she was trafficked. She came needing a refuge from her trafficker, a safe place to hide and to heal. The trafficker was on trial, and it wasn’t safe for her to go out in any public transportation. She was nervous about everything.

But this is one courageous girl.

We found out the extent three weeks ago when her trafficker was sentenced to prison. We then learned that when our meek Mary returned to Moldova, she had confronted the man, wearing a hidden wire. She was able to get his own words on tape. Ka-ching! She nailed him!

I look at this girl now and all I see is courage. Courage is not the absence of fear, but it is pushing past those fears and doing something. Or as a wise sage once said, “Courage is being scared to death – but saddling up anyway.” (John Wayne).

It does not take courage if you have no fear. Courage is acting despite our fears.

Some are afraid to trust God with finances so they never tithe or give sacrificially.
Some are afraid to be honest with themselves so they stay stranded in spiritual and emotional immaturity.
Some are afraid to trust God’s direction so they never obey God’s call on their life.
Some are afraid of transparency and openness and their marriages and relationships suffer.

What are your fears? Afraid to admit you are wrong or that your heart isn’t as pure as you portray? Afraid to trust and obey what God is asking you to do? Are you afraid to ask someone to forgive you, or to have that hard talk with someone who hurt you? Are you afraid to serve or minister because it is outside your comfort zone (or country)?

Courage is admitting your fears, but not letting those fears stop your action.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Is. 41:10

Striving to be like Mary,

Andy Raatz

*name changed

I Live Next To A Pig

Andy Raatz — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 08:29:35 +0000

There is a turkey outside my gate and a pig over the fence.

Literally.

I am not making a vague inference to the intelligence of my neighbors or to their level of sanitation. I am talking about real turkeys and real pigs, squealing and gobbling daily. In addition to those two species, I could also add babbling ducks, a stubborn old goat, and the occasional donkey I’ve heard braying somewhere in our village.

In English, it is not the nicest to call someone a turkey. It is probably less pretty to label them a pig. And you never want to call someone a “donkey.” But like it or not, we are all a part of the huge animal farm.

In the animal farm called Church, we often find ourselves stuck with a lot of critters.

The man who brays and brags about how much he knows.
The crowd that clucks and gossips about all the goings-on, in the name of prayer, of course!
Kids that leave the classroom or bathroom as messy as a pig sty.
The one who yowls against change, or barks about the music level or length of sermon.
I’ve even known a few who have roared, “This is my church and no one is going to tell me what to do!”

Welcome of the zoo…..I mean, the Church.

Yet I realize that God has His way of working. His means of bringing His Kingdom is through His Church. Jesus wants to work through these earthen vessels so that we may show His glory, His mercy, and His grace.

The Bible is full of God working through rough and difficult people. He called out the fearful (Moses), doubters (Sara and Thomas), and adulterers (David). He ministered through murderers (Paul), loudmouths (Peter), and power mongers (John & James). Why did God choose Gideon, Samson, and John Mark, with their glaring blemishes?

The Lord somehow saw past their flaws and glimpsed their potential. He loved them anyway.

Can I see others the same? Can I see the former prostitute as God’s daughter and the questioning agnostic as the prodigal son, still searched for by the Father. Call I truly love this flawed Church?

Lord, help me see Your Church in a different light. Guard me from a criticalness of its weaknesses, for I know the Church is full of a lot of imperfect individuals, of whom I am one. Help us to be united in love, with one heart and purpose, too busy encouraging that we have no time to be critical.

And somehow help us to have one voice that glorifies you.

Still clucking in Moldova,

Andy Raatz

Language Learning

Andy Raatz — Fri, 13 Aug 2010 11:33:15 +0000

Last weekend was surreal. On Saturday, we prayed with our Dutch friends, listening to their intercession in Dutch. On Sunday, the service had two preachers: the first spoke in Russian, the second in French, with translation in Romanian. Toss in some English (and the Spanish soap opera playing on the restaurant’s TV at lunchtime), and I felt like I was in an Introduction to Linguistics class!

The weekend brought back the memory of my early language learning and the struggle to pick out a few words of understanding. Last weekend, I could understand merci and bonjour, but most of the French was just noise. I comprehended most of the Russian, some of the Romanian. The Dutch? Not a chance.

When we moved to Moldova, I began to study Russian. The first few months, I sat in church services and could not understand anything. I began picking up a few words, and very slowly the conversations started making sense. Each month, I began to understand a greater percentage of each conversation or sermon.

Today, I understand most conversations, but I can’t boast of 100% fluency.

It occurred to me that my multi-language immersion experience was a perfect example of our ministry. We try to teach the language of God, His love, mercy, and forgiveness, to people that do not comprehend.

The girls at Freedom Home have known the language of shame and abuse. The ideas of love and forgiveness are as strange to them as the sermon in French seemed to me. Why do they reject it? Because they’ve never heard God’s language before.

When we share with someone who only understands a work-oriented religion, how can they comprehend the language of Christ who desires a relationship based on grace?

If you’ve never heard a language before, you understand nothing. It is just noise.

If you’ve only heard the language of self-centeredness, how can you understand Jesus’ sacrifice for you? If you’ve only heard words of Perfectionism and Religious Deeds, can you comprehend undeserving grace and mercy?

When I became a follower of Christ, I only understood one word of that new language—Savior. The rest of was just gibberish. Over time, I started to understand a few other words—Provider, Healer, Refuge, My Peace, the One With Me In The Dark Valley.

I am still learning the language of God. I don’t have it mastered, and I have stretches where it all seems so strange and incomprehensible. Yet it is starting to make sense.

My journey with Christ is a life-long language learning process. And as I learn His language, I can then help teach those words to another.

Learning and Teaching His Language,
Andy Raatz

Future Photos

Andy Raatz — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 04:30:33 +0000

If a picture is worth a thousands words, my hard drives could fill the Library of Congress.

Photography is a hobby of mine, my current mode of hunting. I enjoy viewing the world through a lens, thus my computer now holds over 65,000 photos. Through photography I can capture small parts of life, tiny details of daily normality.

I have photos full of laughter; birthdays and celebrations with the family. I have goofy photos of the girls at the Home of Hope in moments of levity. I have images of gratefulness when a church building is finally dedicated. I have countless photos of Moldova: horse-drawn wagons, shaggy sheep, weathered faces, and innocent children.

Yet even a fantastic image cannot completely reveal the depth of history behind a photo. Each photo is full of memories that spring to life.

When I see the image below of these two girls, my mind flashes back to eating crowded lunches at their house, to the smell of sheep cheese their mom always sends home with me, and to the hugs and smiles they gave me last month.

When I see the photo below of this church and their building, I remember hauling buckets of cement up stairs to pour a floor, dreaming with the pastor to reach his community, and hearing the horrendous news one day that the pastor had just tragically died.

Photos bring back a flood of good and bad memories. Images are a moment of history.

God’s camera works in a different way. While my photos freeze time, His images stand outside of time. My photo is of what was, and Jesus sees what will become. His photo of us reveals our potential, not our limitations.

Christ knows the plans he has for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future. (Jer 29:11). He sees you healed and restored, being salt and light to your families and community.

God sees what you will be, not where you have been.

Years ago, I never thought I would preach in Russian, serving in Moldova.
I never could have pictured our girls ministering alongside broken women.
I never could have seen Nancy leading a staff that they hope will set the gold standard for ministry to victims of trafficking.

But God did.

What does Christ see in you? Even if you cannot see it, God has a photo of what you will become.

God has an image for our nation. Thanks for your part in bringing Moldova’s transformation.

Dreaming for a resurrected Moldova,
Andy Raatz

No Solo Performance

Andy Raatz — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 03:57:31 +0000

I am stubborn.

Now I prefer synonyms such as “strong-willed” or “determined.” They sound more noble and positive. Those words sound like characteristics of world conquerors and wilderness explorers. “Stubborn” is usually associated with an animal that is a member of the equine family.

But stubborn is probably quite accurate.

That characteristic has served me well at many times. It sure helped as I struggled to learn Russian and this different culture, as we labored to build the Home of Hope, and as we pressed to see Moldova’s churches start and grow.

But five weeks ago, a simple, spiritual lesson finally dawned on me.

I can’t do this alone.

I’ve always thought (and said) that we were going to build the Church in Moldova, whether through a physical building, or a broken woman; a lonely child or an abandoned grandma. If people wanted to join us by prayer, muscle, or finances, we’d be thankful. But even if you didn’t, we were still going to do it!

Stubborn? Yes. Stupid? Double Yes.

I am coming to the recognition that I cannot do it alone. I do not have enough time to come alongside every pastor. I do not have enough wisdom to help counsel every girl at the Home of Hope. I do not have enough resources to pay for church roofs, or water wells, or Convoy of Hope outreaches.

I can’t do it alone.

In the Old Testament, I read that Moses couldn’t hold his hands up long enough to help Israel win the battle, so two men help up his arms. The Apostle Paul didn’t do his ministry solo, and his letters are littered with the names of his partners and friends. He didn’t say, “All I need is the Holy Spirit and my parchments.” Paul was surrounded by co-laborers, mutually strengthening each other.

Thus I am trying to kill the pride of self-sufficiency this week.

I’ll admit—I need people to hold up our hands.
…to pray intensely when the Spirit leads, interceding for huge needs.
…to give of their vacation, skills, or finances to build the Church.
…to know when to encourage and when to pray.
…to dream how to creatively use their abilities to be a part of a miracle.
…to care for Moldova.

We are blessed to be a part of a wonderful team in Moldova, but the harvest field here is more than even a small team can accomplish by themselves. We need a community that continues to pray, to give, and to care for our nation. We need hundreds of voices lifted in prayer, caring for the hurting people in Moldova.

We can not do this alone.

With great expectation,
Andy Raatz

Living in High Definition

Andy Raatz — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 06:09:06 +0000

“So that is what green looks like!”

Those words escaped my mouth last week as the sun finally decided to emerge after weeks of disappearance. As the rays splashed across the neighbor’s fence, I realized what had been missing in my life—color.

Moldova has spent the last few months imprisoned by the White Witch, trapped by gray clouds and dense fog, icy rain and snow. I had just spent the morning showing off some Moldovan scenery to guests, a typical gray, wet, and drab day.

But when the sun popped out, it was as if life in Moldova had just been upgraded to HDTV. Our morning had been spent in black and white, with a few daubs of something that was supposed to resemble yellow, blue, and green. Yet the hues I had seen were dull representations of color, poor imitations of what a few rays of sunlight revealed as the REAL color. Winter had drained our land, replacing yellow sunflower with dull brown stems, blue skies with a gray blanket.

That moment of sunlight exposed the truth—reality.

I had an epiphany at that moment, a realization that countless people still live in a colorless world. They spend their lives thinking they are seeing color, while all they have is a bland version of what they call “life.” They don’t understand that there is a different level of life, found only when Jesus opens their eyes.

They think they have found joy, but all they have is a pale version of True Joy.
They think they have discovered love, but their version always leaves them lacking.
They think that fulfillment will be found in a color swatch of Money, Fun, Power, Religion, or Sex, only to realize that none of these brings deep satisfaction.

When I encountered Christ as Savior, my life began transitioning into High-Def, an explosion of Color. The vibrancy of God’s joy made this world’s seem pale. The serenity of Christ’s peace made me realize the shortfall of this world’s feeble attempts.

I have come to realize that I am not called to repaint Moldova, but to reflect the True Color of God’s mercy and grace. I don’t have the capacity to change the grayness, but the light of Christ can transform grayness back to color. I can reflect God’s light, allowing His radiance to shine through my life.

I pray that His light will reveal the color that is already there, the beauty of His creation. I pray God’s light will awaken people from their satisfaction of the dull and drab, startling them by revealing Reality.

Don’t worry about repainting your world. Just reflect His light. And if you are stuck in Black and White, talk to me. I’d love to point you toward some High-Def Life.

Reflecting His Light,

Andy Raatz

Praying for a Thaw

Andy Raatz — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 15:10:47 +0000

Winter has fully arrived, the coldest we’ve experienced in our seven years in Moldova. I’m accustomed to the mild winters here, and they have turned me into a wimp. It is only -6° F and I feel chilled to the bone. Our roads are barely plowed, the sidewalks are icy, and my vehicle is chugging like an asthmatic smoker, its diesel filter gelled again.

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

With Great Anticipation

Andy Raatz — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 21:26:05 +0000

Anticipation. We have plenty of it in Moldova!

For our daughters, the anticipation of Christmas morning is tortuous.

For some friends, the waiting for the news of a positive medical result is nerve-wracking.

For this author, the thought of Christmas morning Swedish roll is mouth-watering!

In this season of anticipation and expectation, we look forward to everything: from presents to the arrival to relatives, from the Candlelight service to a few days of vacation. We are eager to receive what lays ahead.

The first Christmas morning was also ripe with anticipation and hope. The entire nation was anticipating the return of the Messiah, though they did not see it happening right under their noses. Because one of the first lessons of the season is this: just because you are anticipating something, doesn’t mean it is coming exactly as you expect.

The Jews expected a powerful conqueror, but they received an infant king. In Moldova, the majority expect their religious heritage to be enough, while Jesus says he only fills the role of Lord. People often expect God to be a harsh taskmaster, whereas God simply desires to show mercy and grace.

Perhaps we need to open our eyes to God’s miracles, His way of fulfilling our expectations. Perhaps He desires to provide in a different way, bless through a different channel, and show His love through a different means.

This coming year, I anticipate great things for Moldova. I want to dream for:

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.

But I want to also be aware that God might fulfill these miracles in ways I do not expect.

God will change the hearts and values of the girls in the Home of Hope, but the process might be messier than I foresee. He will start churches, and it might be through a different method that I think best. Christ can open opportunities, provide support, raise up leaders, call others to Moldova…and all in His way.

Yes, I am still in anticipation, and I am asking for eyes to see His way of doing the work. I want to see God use the insignificant to change the world.

With great anticipation,
Andy Raatz