Growing Up in Russia by Jordan Stumbo

It was a hot summer day in southern Indiana in the month of May 1996, a day that would forever change my life. It was my ninth birthday, and after all of my birthday guests had left my parents sat me down and told me two things – first that I was going to have a baby brother, and second that we were going to Russia to live. Imagine if you can my parents trying to explain to a nine-year-old boy that he is going across the ocean to a land that he had only read about in the comics.

The next few months were spent in hasty preparation. Then in January of the following year our whole family boarded a plane to leave. I remember saying goodbye to my family and friends, but it did not seem like I had time to be sad for too long when the sheer excitement of the trip was in front of me; I guess as a nine year old I had a short attention span. We flew all night, stopping in places I had only heard of – New York, Vienna, and finally, St. Petersburg, Russia.

When we arrived, the first impression that I had was that it was cold. It was such a bitter wintry day. I remember all of the people being dressed in fur, and even wearing those bushy fur hats I had seen in pictures, which looked so funny. We had arrived at the airport in the mid-afternoon, but because we were so far north the sun was already starting its lazy descent below the horizon. Our ride to our new home was in an old red van with people I really didn’t know, but my parents trusted them so I did as well and I slept most of the way. When we got in and unpacked, the people that picked us up brought us a frozen pizza. That was the first time I had pizza with corn on it, and I wouldn’t really recommend it.

For the next few months we explored our new surroundings. We would all bundle up as if we were on an Arctic expedition and venture out from our tiny apartment. We would look for good grocery stores and places to eat that we could relate to. The first time we found hamburger meat we were so excited, but it was difficult to eat because of all of the bones that were ground up in the meat. We had many such new experiences. So many that it would be hard to write about all of them. But by God’s grace we persevered.

Through all the excitement of going to a new country, my family would not let me forget why we were there. Almost every night we would all kneel in front of our couch and pray that we would meet someone, someone that was hungry for God.

For the first two years we would sometimes just have Sunday church in our apartment. From time to time we would go to a Russian church in the city we had heard about, but as a small boy I didn’t like them very much. I had little or no knowledge of the language, and a typical Russian service could last up to four or five hours. I liked our home meetings much more.

I don’t remember how we met the people we began to witness to. It happened in so many ways, but one by one God began to open doors for us. There was one man who came to our door wanting to sell us cable, then there were three college students who wanted to learn better English, then yet another we met was a young lady we passed on the street from Armenia. They all came to our “church” through different means, but we shared with them the Gospel to the best of our abilities.

Sometimes it was hard for me to know where my place was in the work of the Lord in Russia. I was still young as the church started to grow. Every now and then I let self pity and laziness grip me; it started to mold me into what I was to become for the next few years.

I would think, “Poor me, why did my parents take me away? Why can’t I have friends that at least speak my language?” Now I can understand better what it is like for a pastor’s kid or a saint in the church that is forced into a new location or a situation. My advice is don’t let your surroundings mold you, but mold your surroundings. That’s not the way I looked at it at first, but thank the Lord something happened to me a few years later.

In 2001, I started high school and a whole new world opened for me.

I went to the International Christian School (ICS) of St. Petersburg.

It was a school for missionary kids from many different denominations and backgrounds. Before I went there I was very introverted; I rarely spoke, even when spoken to. It was at this school that I begin to come out of my shell. ICS taught the doctrine of the trinity, but it actually challenged me to explore God’s Word to know what I believed.

The Scriptures came alive to me, because I delved into them myself, not only relying on what I had heard on a church pew. During that time the Truth became real to me.

The Apostolic Youth Corps (AYC) came to Russia in the year 2002 to be a part of a church conference we were sponsoring. We had moved from our home groups and now were in a more established place for the church. When they came we had a church of approximately 30 people.

For the conference we rented a hall on the eighteenth story of a hotel. We invited other churches in Russia we had met that had just begun to receive the truth of Acts 2:38, and we had a turnout of about 75-100 people. I remember one service – I believe it was the second night of the conference – and I don’t remember who preached or what was said, but I heard a voice that night. Although not audible, a voice spoke to me, saying, “I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh.” And for the first time in four years I wept in prayer. I remember crying and speaking in tongues. I prayed for the lost, I prayed to be used in the Kingdom of God.

After that my life began to change; my outlook on life changed as well. I no longer saw my life as a youth stranded from things and people that were familiar to me or having a sad existence, but I saw my life as a vessel that could be used of God. I was not being punished because I lived in Russia, I was being blessed.

In the year 2005 I graduated and I was accepted at Indiana Bible College in Indianapolis, Indiana. I was getting ready to leave Russia, and I felt my future was before me. I recall stepping on the plane, this time not as a boy, but as a young man, with most of my possessions in suitcases at my feet. My mom and brother were sitting beside me and a terrible sadness crept over me. I was not leaving that dark, cold, and terrible place that I had first come to nine years earlier, but I was leaving what had become so familiar to me. I was leaving Russia, a place where God had blessed me and guided me. A place where He had taken a small boy and turned him into a young man that desired to be used in the ministry.

I now reflect on the many times God has been with me in that strange land. Through the good times and bad, He has been with me through it all. I have two more years of college left, and I don’t know what is before me or what will happen, but what I do know is that God will be there. He has already directed my path for so long that I know He will never fail me. I believe He is still working in me, forming me into what He wants me to be.

A Heart For Ireland by Julie Potter

First of all, I want to express my appreciation for the opportunity to share my thoughts and experiences of growing up in a foreign country. I really do hope that as you read this you will be enlightened, encouraged, and challenged to completely give yourself over to God. I hope that this letter will push you over the edge in fulfilling the Lord’s purpose for your life.

Please let me start at the beginning. The very first time I came to the Republic of Ireland was as a tiny baby. Needless to say, I don’t remember anything of that first missionary effort. I was around four years old when we came to Ireland the second time. Of that particular time I have vague memories. I do remember having services in our home, hotels, or a rented hall. I remember drunks coming in and trying to interrupt. I remember piling into our car with my three brothers to begin the nearly three hour drive home to our house in Dublin every Sunday night. We would eat our fish and chips (fries) and fall asleep on each other. As a small child I would sing and dance during the worship service. The Irish ladies found the sight of a little girl praising the Lord in lace and frills amusing.

However, due to unforeseen circumstances, we had to return to the States. Upon returning, we settled in southern California. At least I did anyway. Unknown to me, the burden of Ireland never left my parents. I was completely oblivious to the turmoil they were going through. My father became pastor of a church in Fallbrook, which we moved to Temecula. I loved California – my church, family, and friends were there. I thought I would stay for the rest of my life.

The years passed, and at age 14 I decided to live for God with all of my heart. One night I had a dream about Ireland. I didn’t think anything of it. Too much pizza before bed, I thought. I dreamed I was playing the piano in Ireland in a group of people. Still oblivious that God was calling my dad back to Ireland, I told my dad about my dream. He said, “How would you like to visit Ireland, Julie?” “Yes, Dad, just a visit.” He didn’t reply as he was still working up the courage to tell us what he really had on his mind.

When the knowledge finally came to me, I fell apart. I didn’t scream or fly into a rage, I just cried. I knew I had to leave everything I was familiar with. I knew there was no changing of plans; I had to go. I was 16 by that time; I’m 25 now. After much praying and much tears, I decided to go with a willing and obedient heart.

So what brought me to that attitude? I had to die. I realized that the calling of God and His glorious Gospel is far greater than my own little world. I realized that God wasn’t just calling my parents, but me as well. If I wanted to hear, “Enter into the joy of thy Lord,” I had to be a good and faithful servant.

Yes, I was afraid. You know it! I was the shyest, most timid girl alive. I would try to speak, but all I could do was squeak and stutter. Does this sound like anyone you know? Is it you?

God began to reveal to me that His yoke is nothing to be afraid of.

His commandments are not grievous. He doesn’t want to destroy me, He just to wants to use me. He supplies the talent, tools, and power.

All I have to do is follow His leading. The more we yield ourselves to God, the less hang ups we’ll have! His command is, Go, and I will be with you through the fire and the flood (Isaiah 43:1-3). Do not let your weakness be your excuse; let your weakness be God’s opportunity (II Corinthians 12:8-10).

The Lord has been faithful, and He always will be. I do not feel deprived of anything. The blessing I have received by being obedient totally outweighs what I have given up. You have no idea! You will never learn of God’s secret treasures and the joy of service until you are willing to obey His calling.

The faithful support of the Irish mission field by the Assemblies of the Lord Jesus Christ is overwhelming. We can never thank you enough!

When it was time to leave America at age 18, I didn’t even cry! God had moved my heart from California to Ireland. I still love America, my family, my home church, and my friends. That will never change.

But I have found my place in God, and I intend to stay in it.

Erika, you were right. I do love Ireland.

Ten Years if Norway by Brandon Speer

On a cold, fall day in the month of October, 1996, Brother and Sister Speer and I arrived in Kristiansand, the southernmost city of Norway.

Perhaps I hadn’t really given much thought to the idea of moving to another country, but as I took my first step from that airport onto foreign soil, I realized that I was a long way from Chattanooga, Tennessee.

Unlike my grandparents, however, I wasn’t as discouraged at the thought of not seeing my family for a couple years. For me, it was instead the idea of no more runs to Wal-Mart where Mamaw purchased a week’s worth of groceries, and I begged for the newest Batman or Superman action figure. Or that there wouldn’t be any more Saturday afternoons spent at the city park or playing on the playground at Kid’s Corner, or simply enjoying an evening in the backyard on that old tire swing. But much more wasn’t to be expected from a typical eight year old. Thoughts of having to adjust to a different culture and different people who spoke an alien language didn’t really bother me. Perhaps it was mere ignorance. Still, I was more curious about what school I would be going to, what the other kids would be like, and what sort of recreational activities there would be. Yet, in spite of my ignorance, adaptation would soon be a necessary issue; all too soon, in fact, this change would become my first international barrier to overcome.

I remember my first day of school, walking into the four story, brick building with Mamaw by my side. I recall sitting in the classroom which was full of students and thinking to myself how I didn’t want to do this, how I wasn’t ready to begin the process of familiarizing myself. Even now I still can’t quite determine the moment a change of heart occurred, but I can resolve that in that moment I realized if life was to be anywhere near what I was accustomed to in the States, I was going to have to at least try. At times it was very discouraging. I still muse over the many hours I spent practicing new words and trying over and over to get the sounds right. It took the better part of a year for me to rise to a conversational level in Norwegian, but it was one of my proudest accomplishments.

That first year in the city of Kristiansand assisted in creating many of my fondest memories. I met my best friends, Alexander and Joacim Hvass, in the church there, and we’re still the closest of companions. I had my first experiences with ice-skating, sledding, snowboarding, and every other winter sport that year. I received the Holy Ghost for the first time that year. Basically, it was a great first year.

Then one day Papaw shared with Mamaw and me what he referred to as a “calling.” He said that he felt God was leading him to the city of Stavanger, located about four hours northwest of Kristiansand, and we would probably be moving there soon. For three good reasons, I was not at all enthused with his idea. One, we had just moved. Two, I finally felt that I was settling in as far as school and friends.

Three, it was just too far away. It goes without saying that my opinion was disregarded, not because it didn’t matter, but because we were there to do God’s work.

In February of 1998 I found myself standing in the doorway of what was to be my new bedroom, imagining how it would look when furnished and decorated. Again, I felt surrounded by unfamiliarity, uncertain of what to expect or if I was ready to expect anything at all.

Nevertheless, life went on, and in spite of my initial negative feelings towards the relocation, things gradually fell into place.

Once again, I started a new school and made new friends as well. I continued learning Norwegian, picking up on various words from my newfound friends, comic books, and even the road signs we passed.

Amidst all the hustle and bustle, this now not-so-unfamiliar-place began to feel like somewhere I could be happy, somewhere I could get used to calling home.

It was then that I came to realize the most important thing of all.

In my adolescent and oblivious mind, I resolved that things around me were occurring out of more than pure happenstance. Rather, it was God who was directing each situation and circumstance that took place; He was the reason I was there to begin with.

I was exposed to many things during the ten years I spent on the foreign mission field. I had the chance to experience various cultures and people from all over the world through outreach ministries. I talked to countless persons and heard numerous stories of near death incidents from refugees who had fled their home-lands and were residing in Norway. Yet, when it was all said and done, I learned above all to put my trust in God.

Though the things I considered trials may seem simple to you, they were building blocks for me. God knew from the start what I would struggle with and where I would need a helping hand. I learned that whenever there was a trial that I could put my faith in Him, and He would be there every time.