This weekend is a holiday in Russia, the Day of the Defender's of the Fatherland. It is our version of Father's Day, but so many fathers never returned from war, it is also kind of a Memorial Day as well. We had a big party at our house to celebrate with friends from our church. It seemed like half a pig was slaughtered for this event. Tim always says that in any culture, anywhere in the world, at pretty much any time you can find men roasting meat on a stick, preferrably over an open fire. So, while we women made salads in the kitchen, the men hovered over the open wood burning fire pit in our yard.
As we downed large quantitites of charred meat and salads we began to play some games and tell stories from our childhood. Our pastor, Volodia, was remembering that he was the only student in his school that was not a Komsomolets. He never wanted to join even though it was very unwise to refuse to become one. When he was in the fifth grade he and a friend began listening to the Voice of America radio station. For the first time they heard rock music: the Rolling Stones and the Beattles. They decided life in America must be very cool compared to life in Chechnya. The radio announcer encouraged them to write letters to the station giving them their thoughts. Straightaway they decided to write a letter to the Voice of America, telling them how much they like their radio station and could they please send records of the Rolling Stones and Beattles because they couldn't get them in Chechnya? They signed it, "students from the fifth grade class." Unfortunately, the other boys' father was the superindentent of schools for the school district and any letter going to the Voice of America in those days was intercepted and returned to sender with, I am quite sure, a few words of correction to the parents. They were sternly punished and in the end the friend was told this is what comes from befriending a boy who was not a Komsomolets....Meanwhile the boys made another plan to get Rolling Stones records: walking through Chukotka over to Alaska. They felt like this border would be the least likely to be watched since no one wants to live in Chukotka anyway......
When I heard this story I laughed so hard I cried. Even then, God was preparing one young man to learn to stand alone, to be different, and to yearn for more. Nearly twenty years later, the first time Volodia saw the JESUS film in Chechnya while it was still under communism, he believed. Today, he continues to share about God's love and forgiveness in parts of the former Soviet Union where foreign missionaries cannot work. He continues to stand with those making very dangerous stands for their faith in tough circumstances. And, I think he still listens to rock music on occasion.
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