A letter from Chelyabinsk
Since leaving St Petersburg on the train 24hrs ago not a lot has
changed. There are no suburbs in Russia. Once you leave the city with
its Soviet style apartment blocks you suddenly find yourself in the
countryside which at this time of year is mile after mile of forest
buried in thick snow,
the poplar and birch trees standing tall and naked
in the brilliant white landscape. From time to time we pass small
villages of rickety wooden houses with rickety wooden fences and
awkwardly fitting tin roofs. It is hard to imagine them as adequate
human shelters in the midst of this cold and desolate landscape. The
only clues that indicate permanent residence are the brick chimneys that
protrude from the roofs and the large piles of chopped timber stacked up
against the houses.
Occasionally we pass through small towns that bring us back into the world of solid, featureless apartments and introduce us to the solid featureless babushkas stretching out their meagre pensions by selling home made breads and pies, beers, chocolate and icecreams at the steps of the railway carriages. Some have large bags of brightly coloured knitted children's dolls which, spilling out of the black bags leaning against their dark clothes on the dark slush coated platforms, seem terribly out of place. These dolls were crafted to become the focus of love and devoted attention. They were made to be cuddled and loved but there's not much tenderness experienced by the people who live in this severe climate and under these harsh economic conditions.
My first few days in Russia have been enlightening. Life here is hard.
Even in the city beyond the five star tourist hotels and central western
style shopping area it's clear that for most people there's not much
respite from the daily struggle to eek out a living in this black city.
And it is black, no matter what Warner may try and tell you! The snow
is melting, exposing wet dirty pavements. The roads are permanently wet
and filthy, even when it's not raining. The trees are black with the
pollution in the atmosphere. They look dead but will, I'm assured,
burst into life once spring returns. People dress in dark clothing with
only the obvious foreigner or new middle class rich dressing in
inappropriate light colours. The cars are all much the same colour each
being freshly resprayed with a new layer of dirt from the roads. And
the economy is black. Economic survival in the city is tied in with the
unwritten rules of bribery and influence as an increasingly deregulated
economy continues to play by the rules forged in earlier eras of
oppression and privilege.
In spiritual terms things aren't that much different. The orthodox
church holds the reigns now that the iron fist of communism has been
released. But however rich the heritage of iconography, music or ritual
all it can manage to achieve is the religious veneering of a society and
people ravaged by the evils of Tsarist tyranny or communist oppression.
Some of the villages we pass are different. The houses are wooden but smaller, neater, less rickety. Each has a garden and little outhouse. The virgin unmarked snow indicates that the villages are deserted. These are villages of dachas, summer retreats to which many of the city dwellers will escape when the snow has gone and spring heralds summer. Here they will breathe fresher air, here they will grow vegetables and recover from the dark winter days in the city. The Spring Campaign in Chelyabinsk, to which we are travelling (some 1600 miles from St Petersburg), is one of OM's attempts to cultivate the soil of Russian Christian youth and to plant for a new spiritual harvest that will refresh the peoples of this great and vast country. Do pray for the team during the incoming week as they teach and inspire about 150 young people from the Urals region. Pray that the Lord will prosper their work and make them a blessing to the churches and people they seek to serve.
As you hear this Trevor and I will be attending our second service of the day - a three hour morning service in a village church ended at one o'clock our time - 6am your time. The main service starts around 4pm and will, I hope, be over by 6:30pm after which we will make our way to the conference centre. Next week will be a mixture of teaching seminars, spending time with young people and meeting with pastors. It is going to be busy, but worthwhile. Keep us in your prayers.
To next letter.
To letters from Russia.