October News

Hey Readers!

Just wanted you to know I have posted a newsletter to the website.  Some of this and that going on in Moscow these days.

Short version - God is good.  His blessings are enduring.  Lots of good things going on as we finish the first quarter of school and continue the work of the Lord in Bible study and church.

Got questions?  Got information?  Got a praise report?  A prayer request?  I'm good for those, too!  Just shoot me a note:  Miss.Kris.Newman@gmail.com.  I love to hear from you to see who reads my random words.

For now, see you here, there or in the air!

God bless you!
Kris

Oh yeah - here's the link to the website:  OCTOBER NEWSLETTER

The Right Season

I’m not one of those “everything pumpkin is a special blessing from God” people.  And I wouldn’t say autumn is my favorite time of year for many reasons, but after all the complaining is set aside, I do rather like autumn.

I like the brightness of the skies lit by a harvest moon.  I like the sunshine playing with yellow leaves hanging like golden drops of promise flying from summer’s hold.  Even the chilly rains of October are easier to endure when the walk is carpeted with orange.

The color of it all paints the world cheerfully.  I like that.

Inside, though, autumn is a sad time for me. 

My Grandma’s birthday was in autumn and I am not done missing her yet.  30 years isn’t long enough for me to stop talking about her.  “My Grandma made the best banana bread.”  “If my Grandma were here she would say she loves that!” 

It was autumn when she became sick for the first time.  Autumn when I walked to the hospital to see her after school.  Autumn when I realized I would lose her eventually.  Autumn signifies the end of my childhood. 

And so I don’t like autumn.

I know God understands this as He often places extra blessings in autumn for me so I can think on good things.  New school years start in autumn and I love that.  The leaves, as I said before, decorate the world in paintbrush fashion and I enjoy that.  After summer’s thick, musty air I breathe better in autumn.  And breathing, of course, is a good thing.

And it was autumn when He spoke to me first about going to Russia. 

I will spare you the details, but suffice to say it was on an autumn drive that I was discussing my future with God (some might say praying), when I felt absolutely certain that I was about to get direction.  I waited in anticipation.  Would my writing be picked up by a Christian publishing company and millions would be saved?  Would I somehow skip college and be a teacher who would influence poor, urban children causing them to realize their wildest dreams?  Maybe I would be a missionary to some romantic place like an island?  Oh the possibilities were endless!

I can see a much younger version of myself sitting in the Sunday School classroom.  I hear my friend’s voice repeating words that God and I had spoken of the day before.  I knew it wasn’t coincidence.  The anticipated direction was close at hand….. “Maybe God wants you to go to Russia.  Why not?”

My very spiritual, Christ-like, example-to-others reaction was to look out the window, into the sky and say, “Russia?  You’ve got to be kidding, right?” 

Now here I am 20 some years later enjoying my coffee and looking into my Moscow neighborhood.  Although I’ve not quite been here a year, this feels like home. 

Many autumns were lived between that conversation with God and today.  I find myself measuring my young woman’s expectations against my current reality.  The delay between the call and the answer is entwined in its own story of many chapters.  I often questioned.  I frequently doubted.  Toward the end of the delay I, Peter-like, denied the call when someone reminded me.  “Oh, no, I’m sure that won’t ever happen now.  That was for a different time in my life.  Not now.” 

But you know God is never late.  To Him there was no delay, no hesitation, no change of mind.  It was all right on schedule.  Looking back I can see Him training me, changing me, leading me, preparing me for this very autumn.  I wouldn’t have chosen the path which brought me here, but I’m glad for the knowledge it gave me.  There were some chapters God saw me through that I know were not His preference.   The choices and actions of others may have dragged out the plan, but the Planner didn’t change His plan for me. 

I am so glad that when I was presented with the question again, I had the right answer.  “Yes, I would be interested in teaching in Moscow.”

It’s not without personal cost to me.  I have left the young woman full of energy behind along the way.  I am a grandmother now with enough minor health problems to annoy me. Moscow exaggerates my weaknesses.  My children are grown now, which is good.  It would have been very difficult to raise children here.  But now I want to help raise my grandchildren which is impossible from this side planet.   We freeze joy in quick snapshots in an attempt to share life, but my arms are empty.  They live their daily joys and sadness without me and I miss every moment.

It’s not without cost, it’s true.  But it’s also not without extreme blessings.  Time for teaching and time for writing has opened new doors of ministry for me.  I am confident that the scriptures taught beside addition will make lasting impressions upon my students’ lives.  The older me appreciates this much more than my younger version would have. 

Yesterday I walked along an autumn lane with three of my younger colleagues.  We were given tickets to a ballet at The Bolshoi.  I love ballet!  The grace, the beauty, the strength, the romance, the story of it all!  All of my writer senses come alive in its presence. 

Grandma made sure I took ballet lessons as a child.  It’s an old friend full of lovely memories for me.  I feel the music and the little girl inside wants to twirl, leap, stretch!  For my colleagues, however, experiencing a ballet was something new. 

I watched their reactions with great interest reminded of my younger self.  I was full of words to describe the day, they were speechless.  I re-read previous chapters in my heart’s memories of other ballets.  They were making new notes on fresh pages.  It was nice to share it with them, to see it through fresh eyes again. 

Strolling with them I saw something that reminded me of my Grandma, but the melancholy was held in check by the blessing.  I find I can enjoy this autumn.  This is the day the Lord has made.  I can rejoice and be glad in it.

New Day

Today is one of those new days. You know, the first day of . . . . whatever. They always start out a little different than ordinary, everyday days. You wake up earlier anticipating something new. Not altogether sure what the day holds, or the week or the month. Your mind is full of possibilities balanced by uncertainty.

The sun shines the same. Not really hazy, not really clear. The birds and the crickets sing the same song. The squirrels chase as if it’s a normal day, nothing new.

But to you?  It’s a new day. The first day of whatever.

Monotonous sounds are fresh today. The cacophony of a city morning  sings a little nicer today. Every chipmunk is cuter. Even the cars seem happier as they drive along to here and there leaving you behind. The train whistle blows as if to announce, “Hey!  It’s the first day!”  Even that makes you smile a little brighter.

Regardless of all that stays the same, something is definitely new in this day. It’s going to start a new season, a new path, a new direction. The air bristles with the static of hope and it charges your actions. You may wear the same clothes you wore last Monday, but they feel different. You might comb your hair in the same fashion, but it looks nicer. Your yard even seems to notice that it’s a new day and has painted a new layer of green on the grass while you slept.

Fresh, clean, clear, new.

You look for a plane in the sky with a banner that says, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.”  You 

know it must be there. Everyone knows, don’t they? 

Today is a new day.

Revel in the hope. Drink deeply of the promise. Mark the calendar.

Today is a new day.

Summer 2014 Wrap Up

At the end of a project or an event there is always a Wrap Up Session.  It’s the time for reviewing, re-visiting, criticizing, praising, tweaking the reasons for success or failure.  On the agenda will be things like What Went Right and What Went Wrong and Ways to Improve and Things to Repeat. 

Today my brain is in Wrap Up mode.  Me and Jesus have been meeting all morning to discuss this summer’s projects and events.  Subpoints on today’s agenda under What Went Right include Deep Conversations, Meaningful Connections and Solidifying Relationships.  Under What Went Wrong in big, bold, CAPITAL letters are LESS FAT AND MORE FRUIT!  Thankfully flight weight limits will only apply to my baggage and not me.  I might be left behind. 

Truth be told, though, if joy added weight I would be extremely over every limit!  I have reveled in angelbaby kisses, stories and laughter.  I have drank deeply of friendships new and old.  I have been immersed in moments with God until my skin feels saturated.  Family and friends have poured love into me this summer and I feel valued. 

This summer is very interesting to me.  It’s as though my being away has made me realize even more the importance of people in my life.  That’s odd to someone who is alone most of the time.  For many years I drove to work alone, I lived alone, I walked alone, I shopped alone, I ate alone.  If I spent any time with anyone it was on purpose.  Apparently, those purposeful times of connection connected me with strong ties.  The kind of ties that need only an afternoon to tighten, strengthen, freshen.

The conversations I have had this summer were all over the map!  Politics, religion, overcoming deep sadness, sharing great happy moments, God talks and family memories.  Words and phrases danced around topics from every viewpoint.  It was captivating.  It was heartbreaking.  It was uplifting. It was transparent. It was real. 

Someone asked me once where I like to vacation.  I realized I didn’t have a favorite WHERE, but lots of favorite WHO to vacation with.  Time spent with someone invigorates me.  And so this summer I have VACATIONED with almost all of my favorite people.  I didn’t get to see my sister face-to-face, but we chatted randomly many times about everything and nothing.  I woke almost every morning to one angelbaby face or another.  My relationship with my daughter-in-law grew exponentially when she opened her house, and her heart, to me.  I enjoyed normal, every-day family time with my sons.  I strolled, drank coffee, shopped, pedicured, cooked, cleaned, sat in the sun with amazing friends in many different seasons of life.  We cried some, laughed some, intellectualized some. 

In conclusion I find I don’t mind being alone, but I am glad to not be alone, too.  I have looked deep into the eyes of myself through my friends’ views.  I have seen doubts removed, watched fears subside, and built courage while the summer slipped away.  Bridges were built and tended many times over.

All of this has strengthened me.  I am resolved to do more, be better, stretch further to share Jesus with someone in Moscow.  I am convinced I am compassionate enough, grace-full enough, loving enough to get the job done.  A difficult life has given me strong resources to draw from and I am ready to give. 

The summer in America is quickly wrapping up.  The hours are counting down.  I am looking forward to this school year.  Amazed by all God has privileged me to experience.  Full to bursting with happy memories. 

Ah, excuse me, back to the business at hand. 

The Chairman has a final statement:  It is determined this summer vacation project has been very successful.  We will repeat all events marked with a smile beginning next June.  Those marked with tears will be reviewed on an ongoing basis to determine advancement of healing.  Prayers of gratitude and notification of needs will be ongoing.  This meeting is adjourned.

It’s time.  Let’s write this next chapter:  Moscow – The Second Year.

Partnering Post

I am currently luxuriating in home.  Hugging a lot.  Smiling a lot.  Sleeping a lot.  Eating a lot.  Reveling in Americanisms.  It's wonderful.  But I can feel myself getting quickly saturated and know it won't be long before I am full enough and rested enough and ready enough to begin the work of Moscow again.

It's hard to have my heart in two places.  I am thoroughly enjoying my time at home. But I miss my Moscow life - my students, colleagues, church friends.  I know I'm not quite done there.

Some people have asked how they can partner with me financially in Moscow.  As an Associate in Missions with the United Pentecostal Church International, donation receipts can be provided for tax purposes.  I have added a page to my website with links to my home church in Thorp, Wisconsin where partners can send donations.  I also included a link to the United Pentecostal Church website where donations can be made online.

Equally important to finances, I need prayer cover.  Each day there is a new challenge with new opportunities to share Christ in so many ways.  Pray that I see the open doors and seize the moments I'm given.  Pray for the church to continue to grow in faith.  Pray for the International School of Tomorrow to be a place where grace and truth flourish.  Pray for peace in the Ukraine.

If you want to be included on the email list, please stop by the website and let me know.  I will gladly add you.  We are, after all, in this together.

Here's the link to the Moscow Ministry Partner page:  MOSCOW MINISTRY

I will also be speaking at two churches on August 3rd
   Calvary UPC in Bloomington, Minnesota at 10:30 a.m.
   Pentecostal Assembly in Eau Claire, Wisconsin at 6:30 p.m.

Hope to see you here, there or in the air!

Reflections from a Writer in Moscow

It seems there is a problem in the stratosphere and I'm not currently able to update my website.  

But I really wanted to get a newsletter update to the world so I am posting it here.  It's not exactly the same voice as my blog, but I think you'll like it ok.

Let me know if you have any questions or if you'd like to partner with me for the next year in Moscow.   I know God will bless you in return.  

***

Reflections from a Writer in Moscow

May / June 2014

Kris A. Newman

Greetings from Moscow!

I trust that you are enjoying the same lovely spring/summer weather as we have been blessed with in Moscow.  They tell me it is unseasonably warm and I’m ok with that.  It is incredible how quickly God can change the landscape from winter to summer. 

Although the regular school session ended on May 30, we still have three weeks of summer school classes to manage before I am free to come home.  The end of the year, of course, causes me to reflect on this season of my life.  One year ago I had no intention of leaving Thorp for any reason, I enjoyed working at the law firm in Eau Claire, loved the writing assignments for 5ive for Women magazine.  My life had fallen into a very predictable pattern.

I had no idea that God was setting a new thing in motion that would change everything.  I never imagined I would be in a classroom with students from literally around the world.

I am humbled that He chose me to be here this year.  When I consider the many new friendships and connections He has provided with people from all over the world, I am humbled.  When I consider the conversations about His grace I have been able to share with honest, transparent seekers, I am humbled.  When I consider the healing I have received for my back when “just one more prayer” was prayed, I am humbled.  God has been good to me this year.  In return, I hope that I have used the right words, shown the greatest amount of love, returned good at every hand and been a vessel of honor for His glory. 

My return flight lands in Minneapolis at approximately 6:00pm on June 25^th.  I have to tell you, I’m looking forward to a lot of American faces and places.  And yet, I know I’m not quite done here. 

Moscow is a hard city in many ways.  It takes a lot to build a foundation of trust.  There is a long history in this country of hurt, deceit and treachery.  It’s ingrained in their culture. To find the beauty, one must look beyond the walls, reach beyond the surface. You can’t Photoshop reality.  I have done my best to reach out and make several connections with people around the city.  They are from many facets of life.  Mostly, they want to practice their English with me and, in return, help me with my Russian.  However, I have lived long enough to know that every friendship made is an opportunity to share grace.

 

This point was driven home for me at Easter time.  On Good Friday we had a special devotion where the students each read a portion of the Easter story from the Children’s Bible.  As we read, we discussed what the story meant.  At the conclusion, the Sudanese Muslim girl looked at me with eyes wide, “Does that say that Jesus died for me?  For all of us?” 

I assured her that is exactly what it meant.  She became very quiet and thoughtful for the rest of the day. 

When it was time for dismissal she had one more question.  “Miss Kris, that story about Jesus, is it real or is it fake?” 

Clearly, God has sent me here for a purpose.

But, as always is the case with God, there is never only one job to be done.  I have also been actively involved with the United Pentecostal Church of Moscow and the local missionaries, the Robert Moses family.  Using my limited computer skills, I helped them create a website for the church among other sundry tasks to enhance their visibility in the community.  Due in part to this exposure, several saints from the Philippines and one from Venezuela have been added to our church family here.

  

As an Associate in Missions with another year-long teaching contract before me, I am excited to see what the next school year will bring.   However, this can only happen if I raise the necessary budget to cover another year on the field.  I do receive a salary from the school, but it doesn’t quite cover the cost of living in one of the most expensive cities in the world.  My budget for the upcoming year is $13,700. 

I am also in need of prayer partners.  There is no such thing as having too many people praying, and I appreciate the words of encouragement and support received more than words can say.

As we close off another Moscow month, here are the current prayer requests:

Pray for strength and wisdom for the Filipino sisters who are attending our services.  They often travel for three hours to attend service.  Their lives here are very difficult.  Often they only have one day a week off from work and it generally isn’t on Sunday.  Pray that they will be able to attend services.    

Pray for safe travels for me and my colleagues as many of us are heading out of Moscow for the summer. 

Pray for us to be able to bridge the cultural gaps as we share the Word.

Pray for my students to continue to seek God for themselves.

Thank you for everything.  Your prayers and support mean a lot to me.  There are days I feel like I’m being carried on someone else’s strength and I know it’s your prayers at work.  Drop a note to me here or through my e-mail at miss.kris.newman@gmail.com. 

Also, please visit the church website and see what’s happening in Moscow.   MoscowApostolics.webs.com

In His Service,

Kris

Dreamy St. Petersburg

I have dreamt in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind. And this is one: I'm going to tell it....     Emily Bronte

The Dream of St. Petersburgh

I dreamt I took a train to an adventure. My mind was filled with all the possibilities and `'what-ifs" I had always imagined.  I expected to see beautiful things, hear musical voices, see colors and textures and life I had not known before.

The train in my dream rushed through the darkness with only the occasional disturbance.  

I awoke to find myself there, at that place, the place I had dreamed of!  Surrounded by history and meaning, I walked behind my knowledgeable guide.  She told me the story of her city.  "This is where Alexander I lived and this was Catherine's palace.  We have Nicholas's statute over here and the lighthouse over there."  We wound our way through unfamiliar comfortable streets filled with the voices of life.  

The Fortress of Peter and Paul stands chief among the buildings in this dream.  Walking through the walled city I found myself taking pictures and wondering about their story.  Who lived here?  Who walked here?  Who rested in the safety of the mamoth walls?  And Why?  What did they hide from?  I could almost feel their sense of safety, hear their hushed whispers.  

Sometimes it rained - hard, chilly raindrops forcing up the umbrellas and drawing strangers closer together.  Unexpectedly, around another corner, the sun would shine and the skies would clear.  Equally by turns it was cool and warm.  A day which couldn't make up its mind what kind of day it wanted to be.

Still we walked.  Sometimes strolling, sometimes with purpose, sometimes with crowds, sometimes without.  Always surrounded by the story.

We happened on a parade at one point.  WWII veterans and their families holding pictures of those lost in the Great War.  This city felt the cost of the war in devastating fashion.  The survivors are grateful for those who paid the price to hold the land.  They celebrate with intense pride.  The uniforms, the flowers, the pictures, the stories flowed through the street with the rain playing softly overhead.  

We stopped for coffee at another point.  Like Goldilocks we tried first this spot then that before we found a place that was just right.  Hot coffee, sweet treats, gentle conversation refreshed us both.

As we exited the last Metro I caught sight of a painting tossed on the street.  In the broken fragment I could see perfect blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.  A building grew in the painting it's rounded turret strutting its strength against nature.  "I'm still here!"  It shouted behind the billboard tacked to its face.  "Don't let the modern facade fool you.  I have watched the gate for centuries.  I saw Napoleon and Hitler trying to take me away.  Neither Soviet rule nor winter's blizzard could change my stand.  You may paint me with advertisements or bathe my stone in whitewash.  The fact remains.  I am still here."

As I lay my head down at the end of the day, I realized it was not a dream at all.  I really did come to St. Petersburg.  I really did see, hear, taste, feel these things.  And another day awaits.

I thought I was awake, but found myself still in the dream.

Another swirl of color, sound and smells swished about me.  The sun was out now and shining brightly.  Golden domes atop fortress buildings glimmered in the horizon as I walked a new route. 

“There is Bro. Turner’s favorite bookstore.”  “There is my favorite palace.”  “There is St. Isaac’s Cathedral.”  Over and over the phrases of my friend crowded into my hearing as she tried to show me all of the best and share with me her abundant knowledge. 

Passing The Church of the Spilled Blood, a remarkable piece of architecture, I was caught by the sound of a quiet flute dancing among the trees.  Wearing black and strolling carelessly, the flutist interacted with his audience.  I drank in the peaceful sounds a moment before continuing.

“We were here yesterday.  Remember when we crossed the bridge after the parade?  That’s where we were.”  My friend stood pointing and, to my surprise, I did remember.  The bridge with the four horses prancing above beckoned us to go on.

Another dash of music surprised me upon a wall outside of a hotel.  I didn’t know the song, but gave it a passing glance to honor its existence.

Through this passage and that, winding behind and between the ancient buildings, we finally erupted into a bright square.  “Now we’re here.  There is The Hermitage.” 

Ah!  The Hermitage!  Frosted in mint and cream, the elegance was almost more than one could fathom.  To our right a spare, modernist, clean-lined building humbly held court.  Court isn’t all that it held, however.  It also held a Kandinsky Exhibit. Up a glass staircase, through a winding passageway and then there it was!  The very thing I wished to see. 

Many years ago I had received a print of the Kandinsky painting “Winter Landscape” which has hung in some manner of honor or another ever since.  The colors carried a promise for me that someday I would see the real painting, I would stand before it.  And now, here in my dream, I stood. 

“Thanks, God,” I whispered. 

But Kandinsky wasn’t the only artist present in this dream!  We gazed at Da Vinci, danced with Matisse, rested with Monet, laughed with Van Gogh and a host of many others inside The Hermitage.  Wandering through the labyrinth of rooms my heart was overwhelmed with the beauty and contrasts of expression.

Many tired hours later we were home again.  The welcoming apartment with its fresh baked chicken covered with tomatoes and mozzarella opened its doors.  Wearily we rested.  Sharing again our lives and finding so many commonalities, so many subtle differences.  Born on opposite sides of the Cold War we found kindred spirits.

Sunday dawned early, but not early enough and we quickly made our way to the train which would return me to Moscow.  Brisk steps, brisk breeze and brisk good-byes jumbled together on the platform of the waiting train.  Out of breath, I sat in my seat, closed my eyes and slept.

If you would like to see additional pictures,

 please visit my Facebook page:  Author Kris A. Newman

Shifting Success

Success.  The result of goals?  The result of calculated risks?  The result of God?

I have been giving a lot of thought to success lately. 

For one thing I am constantly harping about it to my students. “If you want to succeed in reaching Honor Roll, you must complete each day’s goals.  If you continually meet or exceed your goals, you will have success.”  That’s a goal thing.

Success hovers above me as I live this Moscow life, too.  Having found my way around the Metro was a particular kind of success.  Grocery shopping, ordering food at a restaurant in a foreign language, making friends – all successes checked off my invisible list.  That’s a calculated risk thing.

I am told I have been successful at raising my children and am asked for advice.  “How did you raise your sons so successfully?”  A question for which I have no response.  I honestly don’t know.  I ponder it often and shake my head in amazement at their successes, at their achievements, at their character.  Where did they come from?  How did my mistakes, miscalculations, misunderstandings allow them to become men of honor?  That’s a God thing.

I understand success in the business world.  After three, six, 12 months of employ, my work product and conduct has been evaluated and re-evaluated.  “You are too loud.  You are too assertive.  You do not speak up enough about problems.  You are not confident enough.”  My favorite?  “You work really hard and you do an excellent job, but you make too many mistakes.  You need to slow down.”  I cannot tell you how many times my lack of success has been connected to moving too fast and worrying too much about what should be done in a day.  I thrived on rising to the task, deflating the stress and being successful!

I have long held to the idea that if I could make my boss look better, then I had done my job well.  The best teams I have been on have allowed me latitude to be creative in insuring their success.  And I did make them look better.   I comprehend the importance of those business goals and agree with them.  I work hard to apply them to my personal business as I see their value. 

But now I’m engaged in another kind of business with a different set of parameters.  The business of education is much like an art project whose final pattern is not known for many years.  I have had passed to me certain impressionable minds and hearts.  I have the ability to break their creativity, to shatter their confidence, to frighten them away from dreaming big.  Equally, I have the opportunity to unlock their creative genius, to build their confidence, to strengthen their desire to dream impossible dreams.   Each day is another chance to fail or succeed.

The importance of this window of time is magnified in an international school such as this.  These lives are those of future leaders.  These children already speak two or three languages.  The likelihood that they will go through the next five years of education together is remote.  Rather, we will soon be only memories of one another scattered to the four corners. 

How do I measure the success of my work as an educator?  With more questions, of course.

Do they read better now than they did in October?  Can they work sums more quickly?  Do they know how to tell time?  Have they mastered a broader vocabulary?  Do they enjoy the art of learning?  Are their friendships stronger?  Is there a sense of community which builds them up?  Are they thriving?  Is there any tool lacking in their toolbox?

There is another layer.  I am also an Associate in Missions.  My purpose here is to share the goodness of Jesus Christ with Moscow.  People have invested in me financially and prayerfully to share in this project. 

I know how Americans generally gauge success of a church.  “How many in Sunday School?”  “How many baptized?”  “How many have received the Holy Ghost?”  How many?  Not many here.  It seems I am not much help at all to the missionaries I have been assigned to assist.  I must remember that that measure of success as an AIMer cannot be quantified by numbers. 

I need to change my perspective.  Shift my paradigms.  Rearrange my view.

I read in Luke 7 the other day how John the Baptist had sent followers to ask Jesus if He was the One sent from God.  You would think John wouldn’t have to ask considering all that he had seen and heard of Jesus, but still he worried whether he had done his job.  Had he pointed to the right guy that day on the beach?  What if he missed it? 

Jesus seems to ignore John’s question all together with his response.  “Then Jesus answering said unto them, Go your way, and tell John what things ye have seen and heard; how that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, to the poor the gospel is preached.”  John 7:22. 

It seems to me He was saying, if you do whatever your hand finds to do – be quick to help someone see more clearly, help someone in their walk, reach out to everyone with grace – even the destitute despised by society – speak the truth, show someone how to be raised from their sins, share the good news…. Then you are successful.

My job isn’t to have results.  My job is to sow seeds.   With my students, with my colleagues, with every single person who crosses my path.  My success can only be measured by the One for Whom I work.  

Yes, I do have personal goals to achieve while I’m alive.  Yes, I do have a plan to reach those goals.  Yes, I will do my best to be the best possible Follower of Christ I can.  Yes, I will continue to engage myself in stretching further to serve Him better.

It’s true.  There are many ways to gauge success.  Based on that, I think this year has been successful so far.  It’s a good investment of my time and of your prayers and finances.  I can’t imagine what the final harvest will look like, but I am excited to see what God has in mind.  Thankful He trusts me to plant the seeds and represent Him.   

According to these paradigms, am I successful? 

Well, I have seen many opportunities to share joy with others.  I have watched children read the Bible with excitement who had never seen a Bible before.  I have held the hand of someone who asked for prayer and felt the sweet presence of God bring peace to them.   I have broken the Bread of Life with several discussing the ins and outs of how to walk with Jesus.  And more.

Not only me, of course, but my colleagues and friends who share this adventure with me.  And you, my readers, my supporters, you are a part of this success, too.  Your encouragement and finances provides me with opportunity I wouldn’t have otherwise.  I am only the mouthpiece emboldened by your confidence.

So, now, let me rephrase the question.  Have we been successful so far?  

Yep.  I think we're doing okay.  So far so good.

==========================

To order a copy of A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus,
 please visit my website:  Writer's Pages
Facebook:  Author Kris A. Newman

News Update

Just a quick note to let my blog readers know I have added a Moscow Update newsletter to the website.

February was too packed with living to have much time to write.  Spent a day at an art gallery.  Enjoyed Valentine's Day celebrations, scribbled some words at the coffee shop - but no time to sit still and just write.  I'm afraid if March walks past at the same pace there will be a war of the words crashing onto my keyboard!  

Until then, here's the latest link:  MOSCOW UPDATES

Thanks for stopping by!  

Wait-y Words

It’s been a bit since I sat down at the computer to write on purpose.  I have done some scribbling and some rambling, but they aren’t words for sharing, just for emoting. 

I’m not sure where my serious words have gone.  I apologize for having lost track of them.  I know you are waiting to hear all about my marvelous Moscow adventures.  But the words are winding elsewhere winging away on the winter wind.

I go from here to there in Moscow surrounded by millions of people.  I am lost in a sea faces moving from one place in line to the next.  Forced to walk the pace of those before and behind and around me.  I am closer to them than to any other human being here, but without words.  We move in syncopated silence. 

I purposed to share that with you in a long short story so you can see through my eyes, but there seemed no reason for the writing.

Yesterday I sat down on purpose with a blank sheet of paper before me and started six time – SIX TIMES – to tell you something important.  But nothing important wanted to be heard.  Stumped, I closed the computer and made my way to the house of a great writer – Count Leo Tolstoy - hoping he had left some words for me.   Like a slow-moving lava, the ideas began to surface. 

But not enough to write about.  And evening turned to morning and a new day dawned.

This morning, thanks to modern technology, I saw the home going service of a patriarch of Pentecost - Bishop Frank Tamel.  In true Pentecostal fashion there was rejoicing and laughter and much, much music.  Story after story was told of the influence of this man.  Thousands of voices rose together in affirmation of the affect this life had had upon their lives. 

There, in the middle of the Pentecostalisms, in the middle of the crowd thousands of miles and hours away the words began to form.

One of the sons of the deceased told the story of how one man talked to another man who was the father of the Bishop.  Because the man and the father spoke, Bishop eventually gave his life to Jesus.  One conversation caused a chain reaction shift that changed an entire city worth of lives. 

Imagine that.  One man talking to another man offering a simple sentence of hope. 

It occurs to me that the real reason words exist is to communicate a message between persons.  I have something to tell.  You are listening to what I am saying.  If my message is mundane, you will quickly lose interest and move on to another conversation elsewhere.  When the words are hiding, it is because they think they have nothing to say.

As a Christian, as someone whose life has been changed by a message of grace and hope, my words carry an extra treasure.  No conversation, no communication, no sharing of words is ever rudimentary, it is never useless.

With that in mind, I thought again of what I have to tell you. 

Much is happening here in Moscow.  It is easy to make an acquaintance in Moscow, but not so easy to make a friend.  There is a definite distinction.  Yet, I find the grace of God creates a strong bridge easily crossed regardless of language and culture. 

I have mentioned before my classroom full of bright, curious minds.  One of them is a Muslim girl who is always quick to raise her hand to pray “In Jesus Name!”  She loves to read the Bible and to tell the stories she is learning.  Another child has asked me to write down the simple prayers we pray in class so he can teach them to his family at home.  Yet another comes to me frequently with Bible questions.  Those conversations are eternally valuable and only time will tell how many lives are affected.  I hope I don’t brush them off as incidental conversations, but see the weight they carry like the man-to-man conversation above.

My classroom is also a place where parents come to talk with me.  Sometimes we talk about their children, sometimes we talk about them.  Mothers in difficult situations have sat at my table as they tried to sort out what the Bible teaches, what does God expect of them.  I find myself struggling for words of hope.   I recall my own dark nights of the soul and dredge up the hopeful verses that shone brightly into my life.

This room is also a place of prayer.  I pray there myself, often as a means to keep balance when the students’ personalities ignite one another to mischief.  I pray there also with my colleague as we seek God’s help for problems bigger than our experience.  The joined faith of those words brings courage to us as we listen to the other.

Yes, there is much to talk about in Moscow.  It’s not that the words have escaped me.  They have just found another way to be expressed.  I hope that my words would have a lasting impact on many generations.  I hope that my faith would create a chain reaction so explosive a city’s worth of people can be changed.

I have decided that words are treasures to be spent lavishly.  If you feel you have run out of words, just wait a minute.  They will come.

Latest Newsletter

For those of you who are only connected through the blog, here is a link to the latest Moscow Update Newsletter.

Hope this finds you enjoying a blessed start to 2014.

Enjoy!

Kris

MOSCOW UPDATES NEWSLETTER