Help wanted

You know that verse, Luke 10:2: "He told them, 'The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.'"

I never really had personal feelings about that verse until I began working for the church. Before that, the plea for workers was an abstract idea to me. Sure, I believed Jesus when He said that the world is waiting to hear that He promises the freedom, peace and joy of being in a right relationship with God. I got it that He is calling more people to spread that message, whether in their neighborhood or across the ocean. I even wanted to be one of those people who said yes. And when we got the call, eagerly we said yes.

Agreeing to be one of those workers, I started out at the Nazarene Missions International office in Kansas City. The next three years were an exciting journey of working alongside others in providing resources for local churches that were promoting the mission.

At the same time we were constantly swamped and longing for help.

In February, Andrew and I shifted our geography a bit, following the call to Buesingen, Germany (or Switzerland, depending on which way you look at it -- it's a long story). I continue my job with Engage magazine, as well as pitching in on projects for the Eurasia Region and writing much of its regional newsletter. I love what I'm doing, but so often I feel so far behind that I'll never catch up, and find myself working long into the evenings.

A new colleague, Tiki, is shouldering a huge part of the load, and it's amazing how much we are able to accomplish together. I shudder to think what my days here would be like if she hadn't agreed to volunteer for one year. Gratitude doesn't begin to describe how I feel about her sacrifice in joining the work. Then I think about how much more we could accomplish with even two more people.

Andrew is the lone man at the EuNC campus library, where he has said a time or two that another person would be a big help. With a small campus and faculty, I'm sure the college looks around at ideas, resources and classes that could be conducted with more people, but for now remain nothing more than dreams.

These days I look at Christ's plea for more workers in a slightly different light. I see not only that the harvest is ready to be brought in, but I see workers who are so passionate about the work that they put in very long hours and take on numerous projects. It's a joy to serve, but it's a joy that's limited to too few people. With more workers, those who are already working might be able to rest a bit more, have fewer emails when they return from a vacation, and be more focused and productive with the things they're already doing.

My personal bias is to find more writers for the harvest. I know they're out there, I just don't know who they are. And they don't yet know the adventure that they're missing. I'm praying God calls their name and that they answer. Consider praying with me.

-- Gina

Adventures in ice cream

My colleague, Tiki, and I decided that every month we would celebrate our completion of the region's monthly newsletter by walking to Schaffhausen for ice cream. This time, however, it was about 40 degrees, windy and spitting rain. So, we drove.

Huddled down in our coats and shielded by umbrellas, we strolled along the cobblestone streets of the old city to the little ice cream stand, determined to enjoy a cold dessert in spite of the wet, freezing weather.

At the ice cream shop counter, the woman who either owns or manages the shop greeted us. Tiki asked the customary, "Sprechen sie English?" When the woman said yes, we asked her what some of the different ice creams were that we were unfamiliar with.

One was called Quitte. The woman tried in her limited English to explain the look and color and texture of this fruit; we played a guessing game of trying to identify what it is called in English. We never did figure it out, but having gotten on a computer later, we realized it is not a fruit that is available in either Australia or America at all.

When we pointed to another one we couldn't translate, she showed us a picture of popped corn. Then she gave us a sample. Sure enough: buttery popcorn flavored ice cream.

In the end, I got a scoop each of macadamia nut and coconut. Tiki ordered the popcorn and a dark chocolate spiced with hot red chilis.

Just as always, I felt badly to approach one of the Swiss or German people and ask her if she would be willing to communicate with me in English. As a resident for one year in this country, I feel it would be respectful and appropriate to learn the language. However, as a one-year volunteer with a very limited budget, it is not possible for Andrew and I to take the very expensive language courses that would be required. In addition, they take about 3 months of full-time class work and studying in the evenings; that would only leave us 9 months for the work we came here to do. Therefore, volunteers who come to Busingen do not usually receive the opportunity to learn German.

Being unable to speak the language results in numerous frustrations, including navigating an unknown city, ordering food and interacting with friendly strangers who stop you on the street to chat. As a missionary to the area, it is doubly frustrating to be unable to build relationships with local people who are not fluent in English. I want so much to speak to them in their language, and have viewed the language difference as a barrier to begin building relationships. Therefore I often do not even try to begin.

However, Tiki showed me a different perspective. Seeing that the ice cream shop was empty of customers, she began peppering the woman with questions about how to say "scoop" and "ice cream" and "cone" and "one please" in German. She had the woman explaining the differences between masculine and feminine, and coaching her in pronunciations of more difficult vowels.

I could tell the woman was enjoying the lesson. Tiki was asking her about her language and showed a genuine interest in getting the pronunciations right and forming a sentence. The interaction resulted in a lot of laughter and gentle correcting.

If we continue in our monthly tradition of trekking to Schaffhausen for our celebratory ice cream, I believe we could develop an ongoing relationship with the woman, as each time we try to perform a little more Swiss-German and find more commonalities to talk about with the ice cream shop lady.

I realized through watching Tiki that language doesn't have to be a barrier to relationships. It can be the open door that we walk through.