No "Right of Way" by Olivia
This is the second time I've moved to Armenia. The first time was in 2003. I was 25, and didn't know how to speak "a lick" of Armenian. That first 6 months were rough. I felt the huge cultural differences, I got tired of my conversations consisting of, "How are you? What is your name? How old are you?" And, then not being able to completely understand their answer. But, more than that I had a hard time making the "life change." I left a job as a group piano teacher in Minneapolis. I loved the kids and I felt loved by them. There was nothing better than leading a recital and seeing these little 4 year old hands play unbelievable things because you were able to make an investment in their lives and their family's life. Then...I left my job and entered male-dominated Armenia. Finding my path in the beginning was difficult. But, we adjusted and enjoyed those first 3 years here.
Then, we went home for a year for fundraising. I didn't realize it, but little by little, I became American again. I remember the first week back in the US, I was driving through a Super Target parking lot. I had forgotten that I had to stop for pedestrians in the store crosswalk. In Armenia, cars act like they'll run over you if you're crossing the street; they have the right of way. I assumed they'd stop for me. So, I kept on driving onto the white stripes painted on the pavement, when an angry pedestrian yelled at me and hit my car with her hand. Yep..I was back in America where we actually care about human life more than speed! But my "Armenianess" soon faded once I had spent a few weeks back in my home culture.
Then, we moved back to Armenia. The shock hit again. I remember crossing the street the first week back and seeing an Armenian taxi driver speed towards me as if to force me out of the way. Instead, I started to walk more slow and pursposeful right in front of his car and stared him down. He honked at me, threw his hand up in the arm in the typical offended Armenian fashion, and looked at me like I was an alien who didn't know the rules of the road. Yep, I was an American again. What am I doing here with these crazy people?
But, in a sermon I listened to something I had heard over and over again growing up, but it finally "sunk in" in the context of Armenia. The preacher said that we need to start living our life with a habit of viewing every human being we come in contact with as someone whom God loved so much, He would send His Son to die for him alone. A follower of Christ must always be driven by love towards EVERYONE...yes even the person who is about to run you off the road. The sermon was delivered so beautifully and with great illustrations, and it changed me. Yes, something so simple that I should have well absorbed over my 30 years of Christianity, changed me. God's love towards each and every one of us is so amazing.
It's a privilege to serve in a country that is somewhat forgotten by the world. It's a wonderful opportunity to remind a nation of how deep God's love is for them, and that He knows where they are, He knows their challenging past and loves them enough to give them a bright future. And, every time I'm about to be "ran off the road," I remember that God doesn't love me any more than that person because of the way I drive. That doesn't mean that I have deserved more of a "right of way" into God's presence than the other Armenian behind the taxi cab's steering wheel. His grace is great and His love is greater.
Then, we went home for a year for fundraising. I didn't realize it, but little by little, I became American again. I remember the first week back in the US, I was driving through a Super Target parking lot. I had forgotten that I had to stop for pedestrians in the store crosswalk. In Armenia, cars act like they'll run over you if you're crossing the street; they have the right of way. I assumed they'd stop for me. So, I kept on driving onto the white stripes painted on the pavement, when an angry pedestrian yelled at me and hit my car with her hand. Yep..I was back in America where we actually care about human life more than speed! But my "Armenianess" soon faded once I had spent a few weeks back in my home culture.
Then, we moved back to Armenia. The shock hit again. I remember crossing the street the first week back and seeing an Armenian taxi driver speed towards me as if to force me out of the way. Instead, I started to walk more slow and pursposeful right in front of his car and stared him down. He honked at me, threw his hand up in the arm in the typical offended Armenian fashion, and looked at me like I was an alien who didn't know the rules of the road. Yep, I was an American again. What am I doing here with these crazy people?
But, in a sermon I listened to something I had heard over and over again growing up, but it finally "sunk in" in the context of Armenia. The preacher said that we need to start living our life with a habit of viewing every human being we come in contact with as someone whom God loved so much, He would send His Son to die for him alone. A follower of Christ must always be driven by love towards EVERYONE...yes even the person who is about to run you off the road. The sermon was delivered so beautifully and with great illustrations, and it changed me. Yes, something so simple that I should have well absorbed over my 30 years of Christianity, changed me. God's love towards each and every one of us is so amazing.
It's a privilege to serve in a country that is somewhat forgotten by the world. It's a wonderful opportunity to remind a nation of how deep God's love is for them, and that He knows where they are, He knows their challenging past and loves them enough to give them a bright future. And, every time I'm about to be "ran off the road," I remember that God doesn't love me any more than that person because of the way I drive. That doesn't mean that I have deserved more of a "right of way" into God's presence than the other Armenian behind the taxi cab's steering wheel. His grace is great and His love is greater.
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