“Oh, I love your boots! Where did you get them?”
Comments from total strangers initiate conversations when they notice my footwear. “These are my Siberian reindeer boots, and I purchased them in Siberia.”
The winter ritual of pulling out my stored boots awakens within me the memory of a mysterious land far, far away. Never did I imagine that helping to fulfill the Great Commission would take me halfway around the globe to a portion of geography shrouded in mystique. But on several occasions, from our home in Budapest, we had the privilege to visit our organization’s leaders in Siberia. Cities with names like Irkutsk, Perm, and Krasnoyarsk marked our itinerary.
“To westerners, the thought of Siberia conjures up horrors against humanity.”
To westerners, the thought of Siberia conjures up horrors against humanity. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, gulags, work camps, frigid temperatures, and starvation form pictures in our minds. Sadly, these descriptions are every bit as real as the statistics.
In fact, one of our Russian friends recounted to us the personal story of both his father and grandfather who were exiled to a gulag in Siberia for preaching the Gospel. Today, this beloved saint represents the first generation in his family to be able to freely share the Good News.
“These primitive tools became their only hope of survival in the subzero temperatures of this cruel terrain.”
Other colleagues related stories of prisoners suffering transport for countless days in boxcars. Once they reached the middle of Siberia, they were tossed from the boxcar and given an axe and a shovel. These primitive tools became their only hope of survival in the subzero temperatures of this cruel terrain. A rare few survived and lived to tell the story. Others did not. But their legacy lives on in the citizenry populating the late twentieth century Siberia which I visited.
“Today’s men and women are the descendants of thousands of Christ followers banished there decades ago.”
Today’s men and women are the descendants of thousands of Christ followers banished there decades ago; there are also children and grandchildren of the political dissidents and intelligentsia, even the artistically gifted, who suffered in Stalin’s Soviet Union.
Now, for the boots.
The entrepreneurial woman at the bustling outdoor market represented the population of modern day Siberia—bright, beautiful, hospital. Her wares caught my eye, and the reindeer boots had my name on them. I had owned cowboy boots, gum boots, hiking boots, ski boots, work boots, and dress boots, but this was a first. Reindeer boots!
Delightfully, her one available pair actually fit my American foot. The decision to purchase came easily, and I paid her the rubles. As I studied my new possession, a marked pride in the seller’s voice broke the silence: “My husband made them.” Ah, designer boots . . . my first.
Her statement stays with me. When the seasons change and I reach to the back of my closet to bring out the boots, I regret not asking, “Did he also kill and skin the reindeer?” Without the answer, I am only left to wonder.
My Siberian reindeer boots are warm, strong, and sturdy, just like the people they represent. Mine was the privilege, in a small way, to get to know them.
Living With Eternal Intentionality®
“And this is eternal life, that they may know You the only true God, and Jesus Christ
whom You have sent” (John 17:3).
“What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived— the things God has prepared for those who love him” (I Corinthians 2:9).
Walking with God (in no matter what kind of boots) will take us places we never dreamed we’d go. Where has God taken you that caught you by surprise?
What memory do you have of that event, place, or people?
How do you keep that experience fresh?
In this photo you see my intrigue with Siberia’s Lake Baikal, “the world’s most voluminous and deepest body of freshwater”. In winter, supposedly, trucks loaded with freight drive from shore to shore across the ten foot thick ice.
At an outdoor market on the banks of Lake Baikal, warm conversation with my friend offsets the bitterly cold temperatures.
