“While the world was reading one story, God was writing another.”
Excerpt from the book, Pulling Back the Iron Curtain: Stories From a Cold War Missionary
“Oh, God, how am I going to make it? I am desperate for You. Never in my life have I felt this helpless.” Caught in the grips of an unimaginable struggle, this missionary wife and mom needed Jesus as never before.
In the summer of 1977, Larry and I, with our daughter, now finally resided as undercover missionaries behind the Iron Curtain. While enrolled as students in a summer language program in Lublin, Poland, we passed the days attending class, doing homework, and attempting to master a language foreign to our ears and awkward for our tongues.
Though trained to expect culture shock, the depth of shock plunged far deeper than our preparation. Without a break, we lived, breathed, and walked the streets of communism for the first time in our American lives. Operating behind the Iron Curtain—and behind the lines of NATO—gave the word alone a new reality and made textbook training inadequate.
The iron fist of communism screamed around every corner. Economic deprivation was astounding. Daily tasks became monumental. Even a standard phone call to parents in the U.S. required a forty-eight-hour advanced reservation; and then on the appointed day, we waited two hours in the post office for the international operator to connect the call. Once the call came through, we hyper-guarded our conversations for reasons of personal safety.
So, on this particular afternoon in time alone with Jesus, I assessed my situation and confessed:
Life was far more challenging than I expected. We washed clothes in a wringer washer, the type my daddy purchased for my grandmother when he returned home from World War II. The absence of a dryer and the cool summer weather made drying clothes especially difficult. Food lines outside nearly empty stores resembled black-and-white movie clips from the Great Depression.
Language school was far more difficult than anticipated. My high school Spanish class paled in comparison to this. The Polish language was daunting. I felt so stupid.
Lingering questions like “How did I get here?” shook my equilibrium and left me feeling inadequate to answer. How did I end up as a clandestine missionary in a communist country? How did I find myself walking the streets of a town a mere ninety-seven kilometers/sixty miles from the Soviet border? How could I have landed in the same location with buildings, photographs, and personal effects from the Nazi concentration camp Majdanek? How screamed at me!
I grew up in a Christian home and became a follower of Christ at an early age. As a young third-grade girl, I believed God wanted me to be a missionary. Yet, for years fear characterized my relationship with God, fear that He would ruin my life and send me to Africa as a missionary.
Then, at university, I met a group of students who had a smile on their face, a song in their heart and a spring in their step. They marched to the beat of a different drum, and I joined their ranks. Our clarion call was, “Come help change the world.” My manifesto before God declared, “Anything, anytime, anywhere.”
Soon after, this cheerleader met and fell in love with a handsome, blue-eyed football player. His proposal was, “Will you go with me in helping to reach the world for Christ?” My “yes” to that question, and the supernatural call of God on our lives, now placed me right here on this unfamiliar piece of earth in eastern Poland.
“Oh, God, please help me. If I am going to survive, You must intervene.” My prayer gushed from an honest, confused, aching heart held out before God.
And God intervened. Deep down, in the depths of my soul, with the power of His Word, God took over. He marched right across communism, right across culture shock, right across my emotional pain, and met me, Debby, with the words of Psalm 139:9-10: “. . . if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”
The Holy Spirit threw a lifeline, and I grabbed it, holding on for dear life. In a communist coffee shop, surrounded by a language beyond my comprehension, heaven descended and brought peace to my troubled, broken heart. Just what I needed most, just when I needed it most. God showed up—right then, right there.
In July 1977
In Lublin, Poland
In His Word
“When I was most desperate, He was most dependable. Geography never poses an issue for the presence of God.
“I will never leave you or forsake you”(Hebrews 13:8) is for real.”
On that dark day, I discovered the light of a lesson I will never forget, the lesson that laid the foundation for the 12,045 days of the 33 years to follow: When I was most desperate, He was most dependable. Geography never poses an issue for the presence of God. “I will never leave you or forsake you” (Hebrews 13:8) is for real.
I invite you to read further:
Pulling Back the Iron Curtain: Stories From a Cold War Missionary
