(Be Warned: This is very long - if you
really don't care how Norbi and Rachel met and fell in love, or how God
led Rachel to the missionfield, don't bother reading it. I
apologize, but it is LONG)
Norbi and I met in
the spring of 1994, in one of the most romantic settings in the world -
the Austrian Alps. Norbi was a student at Calvary Chapel's Bible
School in Millstaat, Austria, and I was on staff. I should back up
a little and explain how I, a semi-normal American kid, ended up on
staff at a school in Austria.
I was blessed to have been born into a
wonderful, born again Christian family. Both my parents were saved
at an early age, and I have an incredible Christian heritage on both
sides of my family. I truly thank the Lord for my family. My
parents have basically been in full-time Christian ministry my whole
life. My mom had a music ministry back in the early 80's, with my
dad as the sound man and roadie. In 1984 our family moved from
sunny Southern California to Uxbridge, Massachusetts (don't even try to
find it on the map) where my dad was going to pastor a small
church. This is all a story in itself, so I'll try to be
brief. The church didn't happen, and in Feb. of '86 we moved
again, this time to Maine (the eastern and northern most State, top
right corner) . God had a different "pastoring" job for
my parents than in the normal church setting. They began Hope
House in our home in Mechanic Falls, ME. It started as a home for
pregnant teens as an option against abortion. I had always wanted
an older sister, and got to have many during those years of sheltering
and loving young women in trouble.
The ministry of Hope House grew over the
years as my parents saw more and more needs...a room of our house turned
into a store of sorts with free maternity and baby items, a Single Mom's
Support group started to meet in our living room. Free pregnancy
testing was offered, and my parents started speaking in local schools
about abstinence and waiting for marriage. Today, downtown
Lewiston, ME is home to the "Single Mom's Support Center", or
'the center', as it gets called. Things finally got moved out of
our house several years ago, and the possibilities for helping the women
long term grew. My mom has always said that expecting some of
these poor income women to know how to be good parents is like expecting
a person to be fluent in a language they've scarcely heard.
Parenting classes, prenatal care, and mentoring are big parts of 'the
center' today.
Okay, so maybe I don't qualify as a very
'normal' American kid - but how does this explain how I got to
Europe? Well, after growing up most of my life 'living by the
mailbox' - or waiting for checks in the mail to determine how we would
eat and pay the bills that month, I had pretty much decided by the time
I was 13 or 14 that a life in full time ministry was not for me.
I'd go to college, get a "real" job with a "real
paycheck" . I was going to write Christian Historical Romance
Novels - seriously. True, I knew nothing of real romance - but I'd
read an awful lot about it! (How being an author would bring in a
regular paycheck I never figured out)
God got a hold of my plans my Junior year
of High School. I had asked Jesus into my heart at the tender age
of three, but had never been filled with the Holy Spirit, or really
considered to ask God if He had any plans for my life that went contrary
to my plans. The summer before my Junior year I and two good
friends camped out at the Salt of the Earth Christian Fair, an annual
event that used to happen each summer in Maine. Not much happens
in Maine, so the fair was pretty exciting. Friday was Youth Night,
with several rowdy Christian bands playing and speakers geared to
youth. I screamed so much during the concerts that I lost my
voice. I went around all day Sat. hardly able to speak - very
annoying for a talkative person like me, at the social event of
the year! Sunday morning there was a small church service held for
those who had camped out on the fairgrounds before the fair
opened. I stood up for prayer for my throat, I thought.
Instead, as several people laid hands on me, I was filled with the Holy
Spirit. I'll never forget the amazing warmth that flowed into me
from several different pairs of hands touching my shoulders and
head. I began to cry, realizing my sins and begging for
forgiveness. Yet, even as I felt such guilt, I felt the warmth and
such an amazing, overwhelming love, that my tears became tears of joy
that were almost impossible to stop. I gave God complete and total
control of my life that day, laying all I had at His feet.
Later that year my best friend at the
time, Jessica Bean (now happily married Mrs. Casey Dudek) would move
from Maine to Oregon. And yet, God's timing is always perfect, and
as Jess moved away, Denise moved in. Her dad was the new Baptist
pastor in our little town, we had so much in common it was crazy (how
many High School students have baby siblings?). Denise Ring is
also now married, happily, to Josh Irvan - whom I still need to
meet. I began to really read my Bible, and have serious quiet
times of prayer and devotions with the Lord. And then, came
"the calling", as so many like to put it. All I know is,
God used several "coincidences" to drag my attention to
missions. I was able to give a speech on Elisabeth Elliot (if you
don't know who she is, go to the links on this page and find out) in my
Public Speaking class. The same week I finished a series of books
in which the main character suddenly feels called to be a
missionary. And thirdly, Denise dragged me to a youth group event
with her church youth group. I had lots of homework, and
some other reasons I don't even remember for not wanting to go.
But I went, not knowing what it was, or who was speaking. It was
an acting group that enacted the story of Elisabeth Elliot's husband and
the four other men who were martyred trying to reach the Inca people of
South America with the Gospel.
It was as if God had hit me on the head
with a frying pan that said "Be my missionary!" This was
pretty early on in my Senior Year of High School - October or so of
1991. While my classmates were busy trying to figure out which
colleges they were going to, I was trying to find a 'missions' based
training program. At this time, an old friend of my parents had
just moved to Maine to begin a Calvary Chapel - it was far from us, but
we went often to give them support. Calvary Chapel had just
acquired an old mansion, or "castle" in the southern Austrian
alps. They mailed out flyers about it and a Bible School they
would be beginning there to every Calvary Chapel pastor - which included
my parents' friends. The Bible School would have two missions: 1)
to teach and train European students and prepare them for leadership,
often pastoring roles in their home countries and 2) to train and raise
up American students interested in missionary work.
I had found my school! I loved that
the "Castle" , as it is most often called, was already located
outside of the US - just leaving and attending the school would be such
a great experience for me. Plus, I could afford it. So, in
late March of 1993 I was on an international flight to Munich, Germany
(the closest airport to the Castle). Attending that school would
change my life, in so many ways. First, I had my first experience
outside the borders of the United States - something I highly recommend for all Americans. We live in a very sheltered nation, with a very
small world view. I knew so little of the rest of the world - oh,
I thought I knew a lot. Most Americans think we know so
much. I had many embarrassing experiences that first trip outside
the U.S. I hope I've learned from all the mistakes I made - I hope
I'll keep learning from the future cultural mistakes I'm still bound to
make.
I was in a class of 46
students, only nine of whom were Americans. Classes were taught in
English, so all the students could at least understand English - some
spoke it better than others. My whole life (living in a great
Christian home as I did) I had never really learned to read and study
the Bible on my own. My quiet times had consisted of reading
devotional books that had scripture included. And I had always
followed along with the congregation on Sundays. But I had never
really dug into the Word on my own - and I was taught how to do just
that at the Castle. It opened up God's Word as never before, and I
devoured all I discovered. And meeting and becoming friends with
the students from all over Europe strengthened my desire to be a
missionary - and gave me a more specific direction on where I felt God
wanted me to go....Eastern Europe.
I
became especially close with my room-mates, two of whom were from
Yugoslavia, more specifically, Serbia. In 1993 the war there
between Serbia and Croatia was just ending. Another of our
room-mates was from Croatia. Politics was never really discussed,
it didn't matter - we were all simply Christians. When I returned
home to Maine, I kept in touch with Vesna (Vesni) and Snezana
(Snowy). They are still two of my dearest friends.
(Interestingly, they both married American missionaries and I married an
Hungarian - go figure!)
I
went through some major culture shock (yes, that term is real, and
really happens) on returning to the States - I had been in a sheltered,
all Christian environment for so long, the real world was hard to deal
with again. I also had a hard time with all the "stuff"
I had at home, after knowing so many who had so little. I was back
in the U.S., but I had left my heart in Eastern Europe. I worked
at odd jobs for friends, all the while feeling more and more out of
place. My mother says I whined for almost a year - that may be a
bit strong, but I certainly wasn't the most content or happy.
A
big part of why I felt I was back in the States was to get
married. I know now my reasoning was crazy - but I didn't feel
strong enough to go out as a single missionary. And so I figured I
was meant to find some neat Christian man in Maine who also wanted to be
a missionary. But after about a year of waiting, I realized I was
getting nowhere and doing nothing for the Lord. And so I took the
first step in stepping out as a single, female missionary and wrote to
the directors at the Bible School to ask if they could get me address of
any churches in Eastern Europe. I would then write to the
missionary pastors and see if I could help at one of them. I never
did get that far. Fred Boshaw, the director, offered me a position
on staff for three months, during which time I could contact
missionaries and see where God would lead me. It was an amazing
chance, and I jumped at it. Besides hosting a Bible School, the
Castle was used as a Conference Center, as well as having an open door
to any Calvary Chapel missionary needing a short break. Working
there, I would be able to make so many contacts.
And
so, my poor mother had to say good-bye at the airport again, just a year
later in April of 1994. This time I had a one-way ticket. I
need to say that God blessed me with such amazing parents. To let
your 19 year old daughter fly away with a one-way ticket took amazing
faith and trust in our Lord. My sneaky mother handed me something
as I walked through the gate. It wasn't until I was seated that I
was able to see what it was: a poem she wrote and fashioned on a
bookmarker. That's the poem on the side of this. I still
carry it in my Bible. It truly was an April in my life. I
could barely read the whole poem through my tears. Yes, I
cried. I didn't know when I'd be back with my family. Oh, I
was thrilled to be going, and knew it was God's will - but there was
that bittersweet passing from one time in your life to the next.
Like High School graduation.
There's
such a peace in trusting your life to Jesus, I mean really trusting Him
with all the details. There's also a great excitement, a sense of
not knowing what may happen next, but knowing it'll be to God's
glory. I had a home for April, May and June of 1994 - after that,
I didn't know. Our God is a caring Heavenly Father, and he only
stretches our faith as far as He knows we need to grow. And so, I
wasn't left to wonder where I would go come July for very long.
The very second week I was back at the Castle, two missionary couples
visited. Rod and Zuza were from Serbia - where my dear old
room-mates were. And Paul and Jeanette were from Hungary.
There had been no Hungarian students the year before, so I knew very
little of the country or the people. I wanted to go to Serbia, to
Yugoslavia. I was so thrilled at the opportunity to speak to the
pastor of my friends' church in person, I was sure this was what God had
planned. The timing was so perfect. I spoke to Rod, and he
said a flat out "No".
"No".
Surely he didn't understand, I was even learning Serbo-Croatian.
But the "No" was final. With the political situation
there still very uncertain, he didn't feel it wise for a single girl to
go there. I knew I shouldn't have come as a single girl! And
here was proof. If God had just sent me that special someone
sooner, I could have gone to Serbia. It was so unfair. I poured
my heart out to another staff friend, Marilyn. Dear, sweet
Marilyn was really used by God during that conversation. She
suggested I talk to Paul and Jeanette from Baja, Hungary. What was
the harm? And so, I met Jeanette - and adored her. God
kept working to get his point across, and Fred suggested I visit Baja
for a weekend. He was driving through there to bring a student
home due to a death in her family. I could tag along, be dropped
off for two days, and picked up on his way back.
And
that's just what I did, and how I fell in love with Hungary. I can
still almost hear my first experience of Hungarian worship, sitting on
the floor of Calvary Chapel Baja. I closed my eyes, lost in the
glorious praise of our Lord - and I knew I was going to Hungary.
Just three weeks after leaving Maine with little idea of my future past
June, God showed me so clearly where He was sending me. I left
Baja knowing I'd return there in July. And I went back to the
Bible School ready to try and learn as much Hungarian in that short time
as I could. I didn't learn that much - but something else
happened. I became friends with a quiet, yet crazy and fun
Hungarian boy named Norbi. Heni, Zuza, and Norbi became my
Hungarian teachers, and my dear, dear friends. The four of us ate
basically each meal together (tables seated four). Zuza, Norbi and
I formed a worship team and practiced and lead worship together.
And Norbi and I were slowly falling in love.
Go to 'Spring' Part Two for more of the story...
