Four Years of Ukrainian Church in Schwerin
Last week we celebrated that the Ukrainian church in Schwerin has now existed for four years.
Is that something special?
Well… just imagine this.
You live in Texas, go to a Pentecostal church, and today—yes, today—you have to flee to Mexico. You leave everything behind. On the way, you go through things no one should ever have to experience. Bombs fall around you, people you are fleeing with do not survive, while you just barely make it.
And then you arrive in a country where you do not speak the language. You do not know the culture. You do not know anyone. The loneliness is overwhelming.
But then you discover that there is another American living in the same place. Also a refugee. Amazing! Only… she is from Massachusetts and used to attend a very traditional Reformed church. Very different from what you are used to.
Still, you look for each other. You try to build some kind of friendship, as much as that is even possible in such circumstances. And slowly, a very, very small church begins to form.
I do not know exactly how it all started here in Schwerin four years ago. But I can imagine it must have been quite intense. Not just a new country and a new culture, but also fellow refugees who, although they come from the same country, all have different backgrounds, different regions, and sometimes different ways of being church.
And yet… they found each other.
Four years ago, almost everyone thought it would only last a few months. That they would quickly be able to return home. To their own city. Their own church. Their own family.
Four years later, reality looks very different. Some still have their homes. Others have nothing left. Some have their families safely around them, while others live every day worrying about loved ones still in Ukraine. Families have been torn apart. Men stayed behind or were called up to fight. The war still shapes their daily lives.
And yet, right in the middle of all that brokenness, a church has come into being.
Whatever you may think about churches, let us be honest: the fact that something like this exists—and still exists after four years—is remarkable. No, actually, it is a miracle. I believe that only God can bring people from so many different backgrounds together like this. Not because they are the same, but because they share the same Hope.
Because when everything is taken away from under your feet, what are you still standing on?
It reminds me of the old Sunday school song. About the wise man who built his house on the rock, and the foolish man who built on sand. The storm came. The rain fell. The rivers rose.
The difference was not the storm. It came to both. The difference was the foundation.
These brothers and sisters have received a real-life lesson no one would ever choose. They know better than anyone how quickly securities can disappear. A home. Work. Possessions. Safety. Control over your own life.
Everything can be taken from you. Except One. God does not change. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. The truth of the Gospel does not change. Jesus died for our sins. He rose again. And for everyone who trusts in Him, there is a future that no war can destroy.
That does not take away the pain. It does not make the war any less terrible. And all of us would have much rather seen that this anniversary never had to be celebrated, because everyone would already be back home.
But as long as that peace is not there yet, this church is a place where people hold on to each other, pray together, cry together, and hope together.
It feels mixed.
On the one hand, we are grateful to celebrate that the Ukrainian church in Schwerin has existed for four years. On the other hand, we continue to pray that this war will end and that people can return to their own country, their families, and their homes.
Until then, maybe we can learn something from them.
Not about war.
But about trust.
About continuing to build on the Rock, even when the storm does not stop.
Congratulations on your fourth anniversary. May God continue to carry you, bless you, and use you. And may the day come soon when peace is no longer something we pray for, but a reality.
P.S. Oh, and by the way… while the service continues in Ukrainian, M is simply watching a few church services online in Dutch and English. E speaks Russian; M does not.
So M sits there nicely with headphones on, listening to a sermon as well—just a different one.
I can imagine that the people in the Ukrainian church might have thought the first time: What is that foreign Dutch guy doing there with headphones on?
Well… everyone has their own way of following the service.
