Our first big chunk of ministry appointments are done. We finished the seminar and the counseling sessions. It was a time of sweet fellowship, and also intense spiritual warfare.
There has been so much HARD in the lives of most of the people here. The believers are predominately first generation, so they have had to unlearn and relearn how to live their lives and operate their homes. There is still much learning and unlearning to be done. (Isn't that the truth everywhere, though?)
I feel unqualified for the task of ministering to them. Mostly I just cry with them as they share, and I take their hands and tell them I'm sorry. And it's shocking how that can be enough sometimes. Sitting with someone, holding space for them to speak of their pain, is a powerful thing.
And then I put my hands on my Bible. And I remind them that the Word breathes, and speaks, and heals, and convicts, and instructs.
I have to pause often, because the sweet girl translating needs time to hear my southern-drawl English, translate it in her mind into either Kazak or Russian, and then repeat it in that language to the heartsore, weary, wit's end believers who have come seeking advice and prayer.
What a heavy honor, to bear the weight of others to the throne of the Father.
It was exhausting. It was a treasure.
Tonight is home church (small group, basically)
Pray for us. We are tired and footsore. But our spirits are still willing.
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